November 4, 2017:
In the shower I try to set my thoughts straights - or at least link similar thoughts with their like, grouped in categories, and those categories into separate levels of realization of the self, and those levels are lacking only the right words to be turned into a profound thesis of being. Some insights sound banal when I play them back to myself (they appear in my mind in flashing clumps and then are played back in words). These ideas are actually nothing more than possibilities, possible explanations of myself. I thought I was at a good pace and place of self-realization at ages 18, 19 and 20, when I felt I was transcending out of my cocoon and through my pains into true independent self, but realize now that that was only the beginning, the introduction, into finding ME - and that despite my adherence to the new and refining insights of then - I am surprised to find myself as a self needing - yet again - new revision.
And beyond - or instead - of talking about the thoughts on the self, I yearn to get to the core of the ideas themselves, to the raw and odd truths of my being, which I am only hinting toward but am not yet immersed in. I don't yet know how, but it seems that all my writing since 2006 (and before that) have been leading toward the full and underlying thoughts and cognitions, a body of work with insights in eloquent words, which will hopefully come forth out of me in the near future.