Somehow my eagerly awaited weekends always turn into hours swollen with boredom and ceaseless worrying. If its not my career hitting a trough, it's my life not being lived to the fullest. I always think that I should be doing more, enjoying more, travelling more and smiling more. To hell with worries and numbing, worrying thoughts; if only I was occupying my mind with other things I might just find that evasive nook of solace.
Does it bother other people too, I wonder. At least, I know a lot of genuinely happy, contented people who are settling down into the cozy hum-drum of domestic life. Meanwhile, I keep vacillating from one idea to another. Should I go for an MBA? Or should I just stick to my job? Should I take my guitar more seriously? What about football?
A thousand and one options, and no decisions. None, at all!
Its just frustrating to have the knowledge of your faults but have no will to correct them. Its a little like being blessed with good taste but have no talent of your own, just being a critic on the fence. Pass judgement, lament, rant, applaud but make no contribution.
There's got to be more life in me than the one that I'm living. It's a passive existence with a gnawing feeling of the dullness that is eating away inside. Someone told me it's "emptiness". Turn to music or poetry or anything; find a vessel that will resonate to your tune.
Does it bother other people too, I wonder. At least, I know a lot of genuinely happy, contented people who are settling down into the cozy hum-drum of domestic life. Meanwhile, I keep vacillating from one idea to another. Should I go for an MBA? Or should I just stick to my job? Should I take my guitar more seriously? What about football?
A thousand and one options, and no decisions. None, at all!
Its just frustrating to have the knowledge of your faults but have no will to correct them. Its a little like being blessed with good taste but have no talent of your own, just being a critic on the fence. Pass judgement, lament, rant, applaud but make no contribution.
There's got to be more life in me than the one that I'm living. It's a passive existence with a gnawing feeling of the dullness that is eating away inside. Someone told me it's "emptiness". Turn to music or poetry or anything; find a vessel that will resonate to your tune.
