Summer of What Youth

So my summer swings from my classes to frequent drop-bys in my former work hole. Whenever I ask some of my friends for their work, they tell me everything’s fine, and start complaining all sorts of office blahs. Terribly so, I miss all the complaints. After how many nights regretting and not regretting that I quit work, I am suddenly uncertain where to go. I mean, while doing absolutely nothing has appealed me for a while, I realized doing nothing at all tremendously improves shopping mall’s gains at the expense of deflated brain cells and reducing one to a mere spiritual pauper. Spiritual pauper. And I’m supposed to be soul-searching. I worked three d!mn years for my personality to be stable, I mean I can look a person in the eye and say that I am contributing more to fullness of humanity than individuals my age, at half the price. You know, many institutions still believe that age must be relatively proportional to salary.

Once I tried inquiring about a dance lesson and about to pay the fee. A mother sitting next to me is patiently waiting for her turn to pay for her daughter’s tuition, I glimpsed the line next to age. It was seven. I was supposed to be having a dance lesson with a seven-year old kid! A good ego booster, indeed! I said bye-bye to a cool cool hip hoppy groovy summer. But I refused to be bullied into such “immature outlook”, so I started looking for other studios and (un) luckily, I found one. I also enrolled in a European language class to occupy time and so for the few weeks following came the unparalleled boredom of my life.

A couple of weeks after my good senses took their leave, I was constantly haunted by how much the no-particular-reason reply is keeping me awake at night and asking me where all these is leading to. Getting a life or being sick and tired of the real life? Amazing how real is used to convey a totally different meaning, hmn? If I had more sense, I shouldn’t have let my braincells take their leave and let life’s joke push me towards the dance studio and a language class. Now that they’re back, bored yet happy and refreshed, I think I can start some damage control on the way I play this GAME called LIFE. Now that my senses are back, I get to stand back a little and think over why I suddenly bolted out of the office door and came running into not-so-interesting classes. Rationalizing seems to be the best cure for my insanity.