Work has been a real bitch to me lately, but it somehow managed to make the days of the week seem shorter. I’ve had to deal with clients breathing down my neck every few minutes, and something tells I’ve done pretty OK being the one who takes the bullets. In fact, I think I’ve grown numb to it to some extent.

I guess it’s cos I’ve worked for and with far more worse people than these. Perhaps in the past, I might have reacted differently towards situations like this. I may be sitting down blinking back tears of frustrations and swearing off everything I know in my dictionary. But now, I guess I just let most things be and try making the best out of every mess made. I realize there really isn’t a point to breakdowns and anxiety in fuckups. And bleating them to friends and people around never makes anything easier anyway, cos it’s never really a failure when things turned out someway or another in the end.

And they always turn out someway or another in the end.

I’m turning 25 soon, and I thought to myself, -how much time is there left for me to take pleasure in my living? Obviously not much. I have spent way too much time worrying about things that were work related, when time worrying and loving should be spent more on others that really matter to me.

I read an interview with Pen-Ek Ratanaruang (director of ‘Last Life in The Universe’), where he said -
“The simplicity of life is gone. There is no calm. No one looks inside the mind. It’s not that people don’t want to, but they forget to, since there are other things to arouse them .... But everywhere is loud. I'm afraid that new generation will be afraid of silence. People tend to appreciate silence less and less.”

How very true, cos I’m getting afraid of silence.