YuHeng's blog

Almost two weeks since I’m in Toronto. Back in Toronto I should say. There’s so much to be happy about, so much to be sad about, but when you’re away from home, all sadness melts into a kind of happiness, of an ecstasy of sadness, melancholy, nostalgia. This summer, I’ve spent my summer well. I’ve spent a well-spent summer. I’ve had a lot to do, nothing to do but overall, I’ve had enough to do. I could do more, but it’s enough. It’s enough for this summer.

I can no longer stimulate my mind. I haven’t read in a while. I should start. But of certain certainties, which are uncertain, I do not know how my evening will differ from my morning. In short, I cannot guarantee. I will probably perform certain habits, routine, etc. and a plan is only a plan insofar that it is a plan; certain things are only plannable so far into the future. I know what I have to do, and I know that is only based on the habit of abstractions, of thinking what I need to do and slowly, know it. But I don’t need to conjure this out of certain elaborations–plans. I only have to do what I’ve always been doing within the sphere of the habit of thinking what I should do, of what should be done.