on my wall are pasted many photographs. photographs are misleading things, especially at one in the morning.

for example, one photograph has the rolling hills of wales in summer. what i would give to be on a hill in wales in summer on this cold night.

right before i went to wales, i thought, "i must get out. i must get out now". seeing photographs always make you think you can drop everything and find forever. that girl with the facebook photo, that place to visit. that's how i think, occasionally, anyway.

i'd like to say i'm happier because of that, that i've seen more places, for example, but the realization strikes you that photographs are forever, film is forever, but happiness isn't (duh), but i think it's actually let me down. i wish someone had explained to me what discipline was, what it did, what it was for, explained it in terms i understand, like i think i do now.

not in the 'monkish ascetic' sense of discipline bringing happiness, but the constant reminder it brings that wishing to be happy doesn't make me so. maybe i've let myself get too caught up, though i still find myself instinctly revolting at maxims such as "save more", be "financially secure". i try not to go into debt, but at the same time i can't kid myself, i save only to spend, and spending on finding that next happy place no less. i am blessed or cursed not to like drink, which means less money spent on that but less fun in social situations, had a previous (haven't smoked in a bit) weak spot for the comfort of cigarettes.

but yet i don't want to be a complete bore! just a partial one. but i'm pretty afraid of letting it all go to shit again.