it's only recently that i've been a little worried about how life is going. i've re-read alot of my old posts and to me, it feels as though the warm and content me is progressively becoming more and more non-exisitent. there are a few things which pops up in mind and i reckon they all have something to do with making ly a grumpy old sad dude.
i reckon growing older, and living through much more, especially dealing with experiences (whether or not they are good) has implanted in me, the idea that nothing seems to be the way it is. again, i know this is quite negative but maybe it's just due to the amount of 'bad' experiences compared to the good that i've dealt with since starting this blog. two and a half years ago, i returned from new zealand and after a long period of self reflection, i decided that i was the only person whom could turn my life around.
why is it now, when compared to then, that when i look in the mirror, i do not see the motivation, and the uncontrollable flame of determination, once seen in myself. the flame, once a lit to massive proportions, now flutters against a wind cast black, breathing it's last drop of fuel that once was suffice.
friends always joke about qut, with its associated dodgyness (compared to uq of course), and loved to always use the motto 'the real world' whenever we would describe of dodgy equipment or discount cutback student necessities. but maybe it is this that lies true. maybe it is this which makes me feel a little cold and lonely at times knowing that 'the real world' isn't all that nice.
i mean, these days it just seems to be all work, which i guess attributes to money. if we are not working, we are resting. if we are working, there is always that thought that dosh in pocket is barely comparable to the hard work we perform. apparently so i've heard, this gets worst as life progresses further. but what i can't understand is why this one aspect in life is so important. at the moment, it seems that work is done more to survive than anything else.
when mana came up from nz and sat on my bed, asking whether i still had my to do list, it made me shatter a little inside. two and a half years ago, i remember, while typing on the still new keyboard of my laptop, the reflection of computer screen white light, on an emancipated ly, just out of highschool and full of dreams and ambitions. i type of the goals in life i wished to fulfill. and with pride and joy i shared my list and the accomplishments i had with those who shared the same passion; and i guess with those whom didn't as well. when i came to realisation last wednesday night, it's a little sad that as frequently as i pick up my guitar to play those boredom tunes or when i come onto here to blog of how this or that thing sucks, the list, as originally made, sits lifelessly to the left, physically flapping it's weathered corners and digitally, as lifeless and lifeless can be on a computer.
(this sucks, i had a good ending all typed up but lost it all when my computer froze; i'll try my best) i've had a few days to think about this and it's made me realise, well, stuff it. in the end you make what you want to happen. when shit hits the fan sometimes, i guess, in a sickening way, you should embrace it. i know it's a little strange actually analyzing the phrase but i guess either way, if shit does hit the fan, your going to get hit whether you like it or not. but today, i'll try and sort life out as best as i can. i'm going to try and figure those little things that make me tick and those little things which actually tick me off and i guess embrace it. i'll try and manage time a little more better to find time to do those things i've always wanted. 20, even though sounds old to me, i guess is only a quarter of my life (i do plan to live to 80).
my only goal now is to get back on track and see this whole thing through. there are still 2 more months of holidays and i aim to cross off at least 10 goals, i'll do it, you'll see.
P.S. thanks to all those whom have made me realise that life isn't all about surviving. you know who you are.
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