Being Sensible
I sometimes hate being sensible. I've never been more sensible than now, these days of my life as I slowly but surely approach my mid-twenties. When I was younger, I was hardly sensible, I would be rational, yes, but just in thoughts. Most of the things I did was hardly sensible... stuff like opting for a course that everyone said was not going to be good... you know? Back in those days where everyone smart enough to get straights As ought to become a doctor, take up a pure-science course and all that... well I ditched that... and opted for Arts.
So look where that choice has taken me now.
Work on Saturday nights. On Sunday mornings. Dragging my sleepy body out of bed at 8 am on Sunday to check my e-mail for incoming tests written by teachers who work overtime on Saturday nights (under my command, of course). It's sensible to wake up early on Sunday mornings, because the sooner I get the work done, the sooner I get to go to bed. SO that I can wake up earlier the next day, so that I can perform better at work.
OK, OK, so most of my posts here are nothing but work, these days.
The point is, having a stable career at a stable company is being sensible. And I'm beginning to dread this life. Jeesh, I'm too young to be sensible... but then again... The money. Oh yes, the money.
Remember when you were kids and all you needed to do when you were out of stash was to reach out your palm, ask for it with a solid and justified reason? And pout if Daddy or Mummy said, 'No, not today?'
I understand Daddy and Mummy now. See if it takes me such hard work just to get my monthly salary, I just DON'T WANT TO SEE THAT MONEY going away to a silly kid who'll spend it on Twisties and Pringles.
You know what? I don't think I want kids anymore.
