Life's Company

Personally, I hardly have any idea as to why I threw away 3 weeks of my holiday to work.

Is it because a good number of friends are going overseas as a reward for a long mark in their education? Because I may actually be one of the only few who's staying in Singapore?

Is it because I could use the money to cover my personal expenses? Because there's stuff I might want to buy, things I might want to do, games I might want to play, and the like?

Is it because I've nothing else better to do? Because staring meaninglessly at the world around me could very well be replaced with far more meaningful things?

I don't know, really. My sis told me to treasure these last few holidays since, as she rightly pointed out, they were the last few holidays. This one, the next one, the one after that. And then everyone around reading this will be more or less pretty much on their way to being a grown up adult.

A more random question. Do you consider yourself to be a city-side person or a countryside person? There're those that clearly seem to be more city-side, and though more rare, there're those that seem to be more country-side as well.

There're those who love the group, living and walking down crowded streets. Cheering and laughing together, working with one another, a rather fun lifestyle. There're those who keep to themselves, seeing and just appreciating everything they have their sights on. One whose best company is more his own thoughts than anything.

In either case, likely there's a particular shared feeling by either sort of party if placed in a situation they dislike. A feeling of being dead, of not being alive, I suppose. The kind of feeling that some people consider akin to a meaningless existence.

The feeling of being alive. Of being more than just a breathing entity. Be it emotion, ideology, religion or routine, it's this feeling that keeps people from changing and doing other stuff. A profession or line of sorts where they truly belong.

For some this particular black and white area doesn't exist. The kind of people who can't live on eternally socialising, eternally writing, eternally working. Something new just entertains them for a while, and when it finally stops they move on to something else.

An acquaintance commented that working on your own accord was to a certain extent a sign of having nothing better to do. I kind of understand him now.

Anything to stay alive, I guess.