“Be Yourself” Bovine faeces…

I remember a time when all boys wanted to be policemen or astronauts. I remember when girls wanted to be actresses or pop stars or Barbie dolls. And I stood there watching them. No, not with the eye of a cynic (I hadn’t developed a dislike for the world just yet) but with the eye of wonder. I had no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up.

Almost twenty years from then, I watch my friends having jobs and what not. Of course, none of them accomplished their childish dreams, but me: I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. Oh, wait, I grew up!

Some people, like myself, don’t really know what to do with their lives. Maybe we just want to major in laziness, or maybe we just don’t bother with anything any more (code for lazy).

Sure, I’m lazy, but is it my fault? I don’t think so. Let me just blame the system for a second here (because, heck! Why not?). It’s the system’s fault that gives us childish hopes and dreams. As children, we don’t really have a great individuality: we all want to be the same thing! But the system teaches us to accept that we’re different. It brings out the artist in us, the lawyer, the businessman, the architect. And then the same system crashes what it has created by offering us extremely expensive colleges and universities that we either can’t afford to attend or we’ll have to pay off with an interest as high as Everest. And let’s say we attend. Then it crashes us by offering charming jobs like call centre operator or fast food cook. I may be lack of a childish dream, but I never dreamt this nightmare. No wonder I’m lazy! I was a cynic all along, even as a child! I could already see there was no hope.

Many want to be actors or directors, yet most of them become burito makers. Many want to be lawyers, yet most of them will end up helping their father in their garage fixing cars.

Screw individuality! We live in a consumerist communism. Or something worse. The whole “be yourself” slogan is just an illusion.

But it’s okay. At least we have the option to be lazy.

Unless, of course, you have debts to pay and family to care for, so being lazy doesn’t count as a great idea.

Well, screw this! I’ma be a saint!…

…Santa out!

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Time, boredom, swearing… The greatest conspiracy of it all!

Time needs to stop for a moment and rethink of what it’s doing wrong: it’s making me bored.

Well, not just me, but everyone else upon the surface of this little, miserable planet we call Earth. Most of the time, time passes with us just sitting around doing nothing. And thus, without anything better to do, we create words. And the first word we have crafted when in this state is ‘bore’, ‘boredom’, ‘boring’, etc. And now we have such dreadful words in our dictionaries. But if time knew what she was doing, she’d fast forward these never-ending moments. We’d be living our lives with two couples of words less, but think of what joy that would be!

We’d never say “I’m bored” any more. And bore… what a distasteful word that is. It’s such a badly crafted word that it could also pass for a swear word; “You stupid bore!” “I boring hate it in here!” “I hope you bore to death, you little boring bored bore!”

Point is, I’m bored being bored. Unfortunately, we have to have boring times, or else we’d get bored from doing stuff as well. Imagine a world where every little moment of your life is filled with something exciting. And someone calls you “Hey, John, how are you?” You reply “I’m a little bored, actually.” “Oh no! Why so?” asks the caller. “Well,” you reply, “I just jumped off of an aeroplane. I’m falling right now.” “But that’s… exciting!” exclaims the friend. “Meh,” is your answer, “the problem is that the parachute won’t open…” “Oh, BORING!

 

Those who know me, know very well I tend to talk to myself. With that in mind, I really hate myself when I start thinking or writing or saying or blogging something, and then I give myself the counter-arguments. I hate it when I have this train of thought in place and then I drift off and turn it around and ruin everything. Alas, Now my mind is changed; boredom (and the word bore in general) must exist (even if it sounds like a swear, something like whore).

 

I shall start using the word “bore” as a swear word, and see how that will make me giggle inappropriately in any given circumstance. “Did I bore you? I think I did!”

 

That’s all, imaginary folks. Santa out.

 

P.S: I need to go to the vet. Not for me, for my dog, Jessie. She needs to see why I don’t respond to her commands. She doesn’t know I’m just lazy.