Man's Search For Meaning

A little more than 9 months ago, I took up a job. It was nice and safe, and relatively comfortable: in line with what I studied in University (which was mostly a waste of time - I was unprepared for University life, I don't enjoy programming, and I didn't learn much that was useful in life; yes, I should've just taken a bloody year off and travelled, but the mindset I inherited then didn't permit myself such a 'luxury'), pays well, and is very near my own home.

I took it up because I was sick of being broke. I took it up because I was sick of my mother pressuring me to follow the herd. I took it up because I wanted the worry of my financial quagmire off of my dying father's shoulders.

Now, not even a year later, I realise what a cost I have paid. Re-realised, really, as I realised it some years back working at Prudential Services Asia. I have sold my soul at slightly above RM20 an hour. And that's even before the cunts at BN take my money to fund their lifestyles and spout shit from their mouths. Before defenestrating people and/or blowing them up with C4.

So 9-10 hours a day I'm doing busy-work: chasing people for work that's poorly defined, creating systems that get changed a month later, updating documents that become irrelevant that month later, struggling to understand those poor definitions, fighting for sense and meaning. After that it's too dark to walk my dog, I'm too drained to do much else.

Weekends, the little time I have to myself, I try to keep my room and my mind uncluttered. After that it's running around trying to maintain some semblance of living - chores, meeting with friends, loving people. Semi-regularly, it's back to the office.

I hate myself for being so weak, so unflexible, so fat, so unhealthy. And so, I spend money to make myself feel better, thus fully closing the trap. Stuck in a place I can't get out of, and I no longer have the heart to. I no longer have the heart to consider driving at 120km off of a flyover, or banging my head or my fist into something hard to feel that pain, or going skydiving without a parachute.

I recently dreamt that I was cycling on the wrong side of a highway to a very distant place, and how accurate that is. What the fuck am I doing with my life?

Right. Rant over. Long overdue update to the blog, but so little has been going on in my life that that's all I can say. It's just work and keeping up with the fucked up politics in the country run by goddamn cunts.