Time

Some people hate their lives. Oh, I do define life including anything that happens Mon-Fri between 9-5 too.

I walk the streets, ride the metro or drive the green 1.3l Ford and sometimes obsessively look at people. A glaring majority would jump the shark after hours to bang those pubs and clubs, those malls and whatever this industry of disconnection and entertainment throws at them.

I would know, I once was one of them, for about a year.

These people would do anything to dismantle and make disappear those 9-5 hours like they never lived them. They hate what they do. Later in the week, when Fri’s around, they’d plan those marching escapades to the posh seaside, the urbanized mountains or whatever is hip at the time. Chosen destinations to help disconnect and forget, getting high on whatever makes the 9-5 times go away from the mind, they have a funny way of working. Till Mon.

I would know, I get invited to these things now and then.

While I most often than not turn these offers down, not without a fair share of guilt for letting people down, I look at spending time differently.

I try to live by choosing meaningful experiences rather than mundane ones that wipe out the present. I’m okay with my life, be it good or bad moments. I need not run away and get swiped off to forget.

While some like to put off the 9-5 times (the bulk of their lives) in the evenings and weekends, I seem to resist loving the off peak times just because I’m not in denial the rest of it.