I wish I were less complicated. One of those easily pleased people whose needs are simple. Undemanding. Light. Unfortunately (for me), I am everything but.
I was driving through a palm oil estate earlier, and I saw some kids run by the side of the road laughing and I felt a twinge of wistfulness. When was the last time I felt that carefree? Then I saw a lady drying her clothes on a wire outside her house. And I wondered what her problems might be. Children. Husband. Dinner. I’m just guessing.
I asked myself if I could live here. Like this. In an estate, surrounded by palm oil trees, the nearest town perhaps a 30km drive, and far away from civilization. My version of civilization that is; in the likes of high rise offices, heavy traffic, oversized shopping malls,each new one larger than the last and clubs that stay open till 5am. My automatic response was no way.
But when I think about it, I wonder why not? Is it because I’d actually miss the shopping malls which I can’t stand going to on the weekends because they get just so offensively crowded? Or would I miss being stuck in the horrendous traffic at any given hour in KL? Perhaps I’d miss out on the rat race - the thrill of working in an office from sunrise to dusk, doing a job that brings so little meaning to anyones life least alone mine, dealing with irksome demands by the bosses and incessant deadlines which if you miss, spells the end of the world. But hey, if I pull out now – whose going to pay for my car or the new service residence I want to buy? And what about the weekend parties… the all night clubbing and drinking till dawn, celebrating the end of a tiresome, seemingly endless week?
I guess, I have been programmed to fit this lifestyle regardless how unhappy it might be making me. I’m stuck with a bunch of financial commitments including a loan that paid for my education which led to my line of work, which got me caught up in the rat race that fed a greedy dream to be successful. And along the way bought some bullshit on how living this life, wearing these shoes, driving this car, carrying this handbag and living in this condo is the definition of success.
What a fucking joke.
I was driving through a palm oil estate earlier, and I saw some kids run by the side of the road laughing and I felt a twinge of wistfulness. When was the last time I felt that carefree? Then I saw a lady drying her clothes on a wire outside her house. And I wondered what her problems might be. Children. Husband. Dinner. I’m just guessing.
I asked myself if I could live here. Like this. In an estate, surrounded by palm oil trees, the nearest town perhaps a 30km drive, and far away from civilization. My version of civilization that is; in the likes of high rise offices, heavy traffic, oversized shopping malls,each new one larger than the last and clubs that stay open till 5am. My automatic response was no way.
But when I think about it, I wonder why not? Is it because I’d actually miss the shopping malls which I can’t stand going to on the weekends because they get just so offensively crowded? Or would I miss being stuck in the horrendous traffic at any given hour in KL? Perhaps I’d miss out on the rat race - the thrill of working in an office from sunrise to dusk, doing a job that brings so little meaning to anyones life least alone mine, dealing with irksome demands by the bosses and incessant deadlines which if you miss, spells the end of the world. But hey, if I pull out now – whose going to pay for my car or the new service residence I want to buy? And what about the weekend parties… the all night clubbing and drinking till dawn, celebrating the end of a tiresome, seemingly endless week?
I guess, I have been programmed to fit this lifestyle regardless how unhappy it might be making me. I’m stuck with a bunch of financial commitments including a loan that paid for my education which led to my line of work, which got me caught up in the rat race that fed a greedy dream to be successful. And along the way bought some bullshit on how living this life, wearing these shoes, driving this car, carrying this handbag and living in this condo is the definition of success.
What a fucking joke.
