I don't want to close my eyes. I don't want to force myself to look into it either. I guess I should stay close just so I can remember whenever I feel like doing something stupid.

 My New Year's Resolution is: to become the type of person that studies every single day and misses it when he can't get it done for some external reason. So far, I have successfully accomplished the first part, and I will keep working to do so until the last part manifests itself.

I've come to the realization that I will never be able to provide the good things one can achieve with money if I don't learn how to be useful in a way that other people can't; and to reach that level, I will need to study a lot.

That's it. The type of person who studies every single day probably lives in a clean environment, and my house is a mess right now. A mess that needs to be cleaned.

I am feeling things that I definitely should not be feeling.

Tentei escrever umas três vezes em duas línguas diferentes sobre a minha gratidão em relação à minha mãe (que é insuficiente, pois só ser grato não basta) e sobre como tenho a obrigação moral de retornar em triplo tudo o que ela já me deu. Isso me fez pensar em quanto o dinheiro me ajudará a cumprir esse dever, o que então me fez pensar sobre como eu não tenho uma fonte de renda. E sobre como é fácil ter uma fonte de renda. E sobre como eu vivo dando desculpa - mesmo que agora esteja finalmente estudando. Acabei de dar outra desculpa.

 Today I've learned that "ejaculated" can also mean "[to] say something quickly and suddenly". Can you believe it? Seriously:

""OH NO, NOT AGAIN", he ejaculated as Maradona jumped to attack the microphone's wire again, this time throwing it to the ground."

I learned this reading "The richest man in Babylon". Yes, I am sure I can learn a lot of actual useful knowledge from it, but so far, that is it.

Hey, I will write whatever goes through my mind.

No, I can't. I have to leave. See you next year!

 I feel like writing. So I will.

 To be honest, I've been feeling quite anxious these last couple of days, and today - especially after unsubscribing from old channels on my main YouTube account and getting hit with a lot of nostalgia - is starting to get almost unbearable. I decided to write while I was washing the "service area" (no idea how to say it in English) and the cats' litter boxes, which I decided to do before leaving for my mom's house. It is probably some excuse to postpone the cleaning, but here I am.

 The thing I wanted to write about has to do with our perception of time's passage. And it is kinda funny to realize I'm probably only thinking about this right now because today is the last day of the current year. Anyway. On the perception of time's passage:

 Have you ever thought about how everyone - from the poor to the rich, from the 16 years old meme lord to the 88 years old grandpa, from the garbage collector to the Ph.D. in Astrophysics, and so on - gets a little sad when they realize the Dragon of Time With A Big Clock On Its Stomach has eaten a chunk of their life? And oh, please don't mind me saying "when everyone realizes times has passed" in the fanciest way possible.

 If you have not, then pay attention the next time you see that uncle you haven't seen in the last couple of years. Truth be told, it works best if you're a teenager who had a growth spurt, but even if you haven't, when a friend of your mom who hadn't seen you since you were 8 sees you when you're 15 years old, the first thing she will say is: "Oh my God, look at you! You grew so much! Last time I saw you you were this tall (and they will place their hands by their belly button or somewhere close to indicate your height at the time)!!! Wow, time really goes by fast... (the ellipsis is crucial)."

 To be fair, this is just an example. The truth is that whenever we realize time has passed, we flinch. It's a truly difficult thing for all us human beings to realize we are getting closer to the time when we didn't exist.
I might be going too far here, but I think the real pain men feel when they start losing hair is the constant reminder they're getting older. That time is passing. That the time they turned 20 is now long gone.

 Alright. Maybe I'll regret not writing something significant here today because there are less than six hours until this year comes to an end, but I will take the risk. I will probably write elsewhere though, but you will not see it.

 I cleaned what I had to clean. I hope you have a good New Years' Eve.

My mom just left. I wanted to ask her to stay a little bit more, but I didn't.

 It is now later than I wish it was so I'm afraid I won't get a rest as good as I deserve considering the workout today. But that's not why I'm here.

I am reading The Perks of Being a Wallflower for the 2nd or 3rd time now, but this time I'm reading a loud because I want to improve my pronunciation. But that's not why I'm here either.

What happens is that it is raining. It is raining a lot. And I can see myself 3 to 5 years back reading Perks of Being a F* Wallflower all alone in my room, with my cats in the cold dark night, listening to the sounds of rain. I can see myself thinking on how that's what "infinite" must feel like.

I can't anymore. I swear I'm not trying to signal my virtues here, I really am not. It's just that I no longer can go through a rainy and/or cold day without thinking about hungry cats under cars. About shivering dogs with a sad expression in front of a pet food store (if they are lucky). And what could I say about the beings of my own species?

As I said, since I'm not trying to signal my virtues, here I go: cats and animals in general are the first thing that comes in to my mind at moments like this. I am not proud of this and I'm aware of how repulsive it must be to see someone expressing more compassion towards other animals than the one from his own species.

Anyways, I just wanted to share this. Fuck you, rain. Fuck you, extremely cold weather.

And the only thing I can do is to improve and help myself so I can help others more easily. 

 Oh crap, I ate sugar today. Probably it isn't that big of a deal, but I can't help but think that eating sugar make me prone to sadness.

Also, I can't help but notice how I think, write and even speak different in english compared to my mother language. I wonder if it's going to be the same with french...

There are certain topics that only come to my mind on night time. 

I wonder if it has been like this since day/human 1. Imagine being in a starless night having to fight against your inner demons too - as if the daily struggle to survival wasn't enough.

 Tem uma pessoa aí que diz que o propósito da memória é extrair lições do passado para estruturar o futuro. E que você desassocia emoções à memória quando consegue analisá-la até descobrir de que modo você se colocou em risco e o que você pode fazer para evitar seja lá o que aconteceu. 

 This person also says that a certain negative emotion attached to a certain memory is the result of either being 1) taken advantage of/tyrannized in some way or 2) being a whiny, selfish, weasel (and, in this case you need to grow the hell up).

 21 anos. nunca trabalhei sério. tá explicado. um fracasso. parece que não mudei nada desde os 15. decepcionado mas não surpreso.

sobre o dr. Cuca

sinto falta da paula.

pra ser sincero, a gente nunca chamava ela de paula. normalmente é assim com quem tem sobrenome diferente. quem não a conhecia e nos ouvia falar "tejano" se enganava ao imaginar que estávamos falando de um homem. não era homem. era a paula. Paula Tejano.

paula tinha um cabelo muito bonito. não era exatamente cacheado, mas também não era liso. vai ver era uma mistura dos dois, sei lá. não conheci a mãe pra saber se ela tinha cabelo liso, mas a julgar pela vó - a simpática Deide Costa - apostaria que sim. o pai tinha cabelo cacheado, e disso eu lembro bem.

sempre achei isso muito incomum, um pai ter cabelo cacheado. tirando quando o cabelo é liso, normalmente o pai - homem acima dos 35 - tem o cabelo mais curto. não dá trabalho pra cuidar, e pais de família têm coisas mais importantes pra se preocupar.

mas não o dr. cuca. o dr. cuca era exceção. o dr. tinha uma filha, três cachorros e um minucioso complexo de cachos na cabeça. os três cachorros eram vira-latas adoráveis. era uma graça ver a atenção que eles davam pra quem os chamavam pelos nomes. também me lembro disso. "Quico! Zinho! Branco!".

não lembro quem apelidou o dr. cuca, mas ainda me fascino com a engenhosidade dessa criação. não só "cuca" encaixava perfeitamente com a sua residência em neurocirurgia - especialmente quando acompanhado do "dr." -, como também servia de ponte para o seu outro apelido, reservado aos mais íntimos: beludo.

sem dúvidas foi um homem de muitas facetas. médico neurocirurgião no Hospital Simas Turbano, sócio da Mecânica Paulo Brificado's, e pai solteiro de um sapiens e três Lupus familiaris. pros chegados, dr. Cuca. pros íntimos, Cuca Beludo.

É sobre não se acostumar, e eu acho que nunca vou me acostumar