Moments after a panic attack when I stepped on the scale, I decided to register at the gym that same day and end my home–office–home–KFC routine. It was a tough separation, but after signing up and attending the first session, I realized it was totally worth it. The energy and morale I get from being at the gym and around its people counterbalance the feelings of loneliness and depression.

This week, the Turkish lira lost about 20% of its value, and I’m really exhausted from watching this drama unfold. A perfect example of “salt gone bad.” Apparently, the only way to handle it is to ignore it. I realized this tonight.

I applied for a temporary residence interview and will have to wait until mid-September. I hope it gets approved so I can apply for a work visa from here, which would save me a significant amount of money.

I’ve realized that hope differs from delusion. A hopeful person, unlike a delusional one who archives everything, is always striving to improve conditions, a strong and admirable inner feeling. I knew a few people like this in Iran, but unfortunately, not here. I need to find them. Or maybe I’ll become one myself.

Every time I feel homesick for Tabriz, which has been happening a lot lately, I look at the news and economic situation and my longing disappears quickly. Smart move.

For some time, a thought has occupied my mind: a new definition of happiness. Happiness, I think, is the difference between current concerns and one’s level of thought. Without misunderstanding me as saying foresight is bad, I believe that the closer someone’s level of thinking is to their daily concerns, the more happiness they can feel. For example, if someone has a long-term career goal achievable only in the distant future, it’s unlikely they’ll feel daily happiness, because a part of their brain constantly reminds them, “Wake up, simpleton, nothing to celebrate yet.”