10:32 p.m. - 2006-04-12
let's pretend that we're dead and then we awake.
sitting in the cab back home from work at 10 pm, i start thinking about what a dog's life i'm leading.
sorry, i take 10pm as late, and i treat work as "work". never fun.
i think about construction workers and menial labour stuff, romanticising the simplicity of sweat and physical exertion, like lyrical prose about flowers and petals, and juxtaposing the image with the sterile office worker, slouching in his chair in an air-con office, in front of a computer, sweating his brains and his fingers, like the image of a clean lab rat, subject to stress tests, drug injections, and running the exercise wheel relentlessly, stressed up and going nowhere.
i think about middle class and lower class. sweat and not sweating.
i realise that if i am in the middle class, and thats where i am, in my air con cab, i have no real right to complain.
if i am a sweating worker, in the system, doing menial mindless labour, i would have more right to complain, to rant, to voice my frustrations at the system, at work, at my monetary compensation, at the people sitting in air-con offices, who seem to think they are doing all the thinking.
Then i look at myself, slouched down in the seat, feeling sad and frustrated and stressed and messed up, yeah what right do i have to complain, i work in an office.
bloody right.
but of course i didnt feel better. i feel worse, like a shut muzzled animal, a skinned dog, throat too coarse for barking, dying.
the middle class has no right to complain. squeeze.
but of course, to look at all these in perspective, it is just transient, my attitude to working, how i handle stress, how i handle the demands of others, whether i know how to defend myself and do the little things to make myself happy.
having lived to be some kind of adult at age 26, i should have learnt enough about myself to avoid the things that make me unhappy, to seek the things that i'm happy, to know right from wrong, and to control whatever self-destructive streaks i have in my personality.
i should have known better than to continue killing myself, entertaining meaningless thoughts about suicide, low self-esteem, going on guilt trips to kill my soul, going on bad scenarios to become a coward in life.
Everything that i do now is a statement about the kind of person i am and the kind of life i have. and the kind of future i'll have.
i feel like some spiritual self-motivating guru. almost embarassing. but i have to tell myself all these or i'll lapse into shitty stuff.
something to do, something to look forward to, someone to love.
these help one to be happy.
ok, this is it, byebye.
