Saturday, March 25, 2006 Suscribe to this blog


Sick sanny @ 10:07 PM


A few months into work and my free time is in jeopardy of being consumed by work. I practically have no time to myself save for sleep and probably about 2-3 hours of TV everyday (Thank heavens for television!). Forget about exercise, everytime I come home I get so stressed over the messy state of the house I feel like Lisa Simpson barging accidentally into Bart's room. Plus, the last three days had seen me doing a roadshow ('for the experience') in one of the educational institutions here (read: standing and talking from 9 am to 6 pm)...my sore throat's still dragging me down after two weeks, my knees and heels hurt and worse, no one at home seems to be any more understanding of my plight. Boohoo!! hiks hiks The amount of housework is still too daunting to even think of. Only sheer dislike for tardiness and a niggling sense of responsibility (diminishing fast-though reminded everytime Papi or Mami calls) and probably hope that some hottie's going to be visiting (ha-ha) have kept me to go on, really.

Is this the way creativity is sapped literally from the minds of adults - by way of non-stop working commitments? I haven't been able to draw or buy the piano that I've wanted for so long, let alone practice; I find that I'm getting more and more discerning, and that is frightening. Too much of Russian literature, or too many dumb people faking it in the media, either one of those reasons.

Seriously, what's caused all these is simply a vicious cycle of workaholism. Everybody works more and this results in more work allocated to a specified amount of time - why can't people understand that working hard doesn't equal better results - only longer hours outside home. Well I could drone on and sulk some more but that wouldn't change a thing. Might as well get my schedule organised (even if I'm a non-schedule kind of person, ironically) and put my time in order somewhat - though I already anticipate that the amount of free, constructive time to myself would be pitifully meagre. I am just crossing my fingers and telling myself, when the raft has been built, it's time to have fun on the beach (I forgot the exact idiom but the point is, better to keep a positive outlook than depress myself further) .