A manager of my company asked me to do work which needs my ability of English. This offer might vanish because it isn't formed as a formal work yet, but it might be a new work of mine. Of course, I feel thankful for that. I believe that is because of the people who supported me. I have been keeping on writing English in communities like Facebook, MeWe, Discord, WhatsApp... I want to be thankful for the members of them who have accepted that activity of mine and also given me various opinions. I haven't made practice by myself alone. I don't want to forget that fact.
But... I remember the days I had been drunk and thought that now is a miracle. Far from these terrible days... I have learned English literature in my college but there was no chance to use that knowledge. I had worried about my dumbness and wanted to run away from that fact, so I had drunk a lot. Oh, my terrible days... we often say that "There are just the walls which we can overcome". But I could stop drinking because I had a headache once. In other words, my will was not related to the action of stopping alcohol. Therefore, I can't proud of this. I did my activity with honesty and have lived as seriously as I can.
I'm reading Douglas Richard Hofstadter's "Gödel, Escher, Bach" step by step. This book has fictional parts and logical parts so can have entertainment essences which doesn't stop the reading. TBH, I almost skip reading the parts which need mathematical knowledge and thinking, but still feel the intensity of the intelligent thrill. It's also philosophical. What is self-reference? How is thinking logical? It brings me the taste of a Japanese novelist Enjoe Toh's works. It's serious and theoretical but also has a sense of humor, therefore charming.
If I get bored of reading it, I start reading "The Mind's I" again. What is the mind? What is myself? The authors look at these primal questions directly. That's excellent. These can be connected with the things I had while I had read books about the brain and the mind. It also can be connected with the difficulty I have had. I couldn't have lived smoothly in this society or the world... This world was already perfect and the existence of myself was just optional, or I was just an error... I thought so. Of course, my recognition of the world makes me know this world itself. So, in this way, I am a precious subject for me. And this can be said about other people, too. What a sublime solipsism! It is also mysterious and enigmatic.