I didn’t write last week because I got sick over the weekend. Writing is like talking to myself in my head, but if I don’t do this, I won’t have anyway to study; there will be no evidence as to what I experience everyday. Maybe I experience the same things everyday: studying, cooking, cleaning, kids, but if I pay attention to what I see and feel and think, there are so many different things I can experience. I have to find time to write.
P always laughs at me about how I don’t know a thing about the world, but it’s okay. I still like him because I have learned to accept the fact that we are different. I just don’t talk about my writing with him anymore. It’s meaningless because it’s impossible for him to understand. When I don’t see the possibility, I stop trying. I accept the reality of the human condition.
Interesting things make people want to learn and people learn better from the things that they find interesting. That’s the beginning of a learning process. Maybe adults learn because they find learning practical, but it shouldn’t be what learning is all about: people learn because we are curious about how things work — or at least that’s why I learn.