27th of August 2008

How time flies. It especially true when one is equivocally persuing one objective in mind, which is work, work and work. At times i wonder why work like what I am doing now?

I am 37 years old, which translates into 37 x 365 days of my sad existence, 37 is a figure that I want to be contented with, as I constantly remind myself that I am a saggitarius, which invariably means that I am born at the tail end of the year. I reckon it's at least some sort of feel good inner mechanism that I ditch out to pacify my pysche.

Many a times I reflect and ask myself one singular question. Why work, and work so hard and long hours at that too? It's not that I have a dependant to take care off? It's not that I have some offspring to bequeath what I have accumulated over all these years, right? Sometimes I just feel like closing this chapter of my life and moving on to some place where I can do what naturally makes me happy, to be away from all those persuit of all things materialistic. I really really wonder.

Coming to Robert Herrick's poem which I posted just earlier this morning, It basically exults a person to seize the day, or "carpe diem" in latin. Why isn't I seizing the day I wonder? Can I see myself doing the same thing day in and day out in the next few years? As much as I don't want to, I am unsure about it. Which invariably directs me to the basic question, whatever for?

I reckon I am giving myself 5 years before I call it quits, perhaps even earlier, since I am alone and doesn't need so much to maintain my lifestyle. I reckon this canine will be destined to roam the far reaches of this world alone.

Ironically Robert Herricks' poem which I quoted in my earlier post, "To the virgins, to make much of time" was written by Robert in his latter years as a testament of his regret of not "seizing the day" and getting someone to settle down and marry. Perhaps I am reciting the same old 'tune'.