When I'm properly caffeinated, I dig writing. Poems, essays, stories, blog posts—you name it. I've finished this week's work in one day, and all I want to do is sit and write. Maybe ——— was right about my being depressed. I certainly recognize several manifestations in my behavior—obsessiveness (see number of posts lately, trying to make up for the not wanting to earlier this year), mild reclusiveness, feelings of persecution (which are easy to wave away in the reclusiveness, thus creating a bit of release, one manifestation against another), feelings of lost time (I'm not entirely sure I've ever read about this feeling in my research, but I'm adding it anyway since I've never felt so at a loss for time), even (and I'm ashamed to admit this, but as long as we're being [overly?] honest) idealization of the home country—of culture shock. Then again, I have to ask myself how I behaved back home. It's hard to remember (see "idealization of the home country" and its subroutine of former-self idealization).
They say when you go back home, the first two weeks are weird and then everything turns back to how it was before.
Is it the caffeine that lifts me up? I hate routine, but if I can get myself to follow it, I feel great after about thirty minutes in. I know this, but getting myself to this doesn't get any easier.
It's part of my job to research culture shock and present on it. It's one of those things people like to deny. The worst is the guilt over feeling bad. Don't feel bad for feeling bad. Who am I talking to?