If Life is a Choice

What would life be like if I had a choice?

For starters, I would probably need not grovel much about the financial aspect of a job when seeking employment. I also would be able to start thinking about savings and pension plans early on.

On another note, I would likely be able to move out somewhere nearby the workplace–I do need the distance and the comfort of sleeping a couple more hours before getting ready to work. I would have more time to write and read, and do both more comfortably.  Need I say more?

I may have more chances to hang out and get to know my new friends as well as catch up with the old ones. I may be able to see them on lunch breaks just because. Just listening to them talk about their demanding bosses or horrible co-workers, laugh out about old times and let them cool down before coming back to each of our own hellhole; it seems nice. It is nice.

I would be able to provide a bit of a break for my brothers, probably spend some quality time with them in a place where they can just dream of anything, be strangers, experience new surroundings and come back as new individuals.

Maybe I can also have a break myself, somewhere I can dream of anything, be a stranger once more, experience new surroundings, learn and come back a new person.

If life gave me a choice, I would have time to think, more before I need to keep on moving forward and make ends meet. Perhaps I would have more time to think and feel, have more empathy for the world and its people. I would have more time to act upon that empathy, create and build something worthwhile.

Maybe having a legacy will not be meaningless at all. Maybe I would be able to see that I can do something different for the world; if life gave me a choice.

I would have more time to think and regret less. I may regret less, and I may even be tempted to give more.

For I have many, and more in store, and nothing at stake, so why should I hesitate?

But life offers none of those. Life offers no time, no means, just circumstances. Even worse, life throws a dice on them, so from the very first moment it started, it started with nothing but luck. Even for the bravest or stupidest of all, would anyone be as daring or idiotic to take it on?

So allow me to change the question: What would it be like if life is a choice in itself?

I no longer have any hint of shame for saying this out loud. For me, the answer is as clear as it can be.

If life is a choice, I won’t have any of it.

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Traversing the Vortex

Throw some confetti in the air, pat me on the back and extend your congratulations because I officially fulfilled my one-year contract last Feb 5. Yay!

Or maybe not, considering unemployment is just right around the corner.

Looking back to the past few weeks and some drama (colour my surprise) which entails the good ol’ office life, I get reminded constantly that this may be a good decision after all. But of course, I can’t help but worry about the prospect of not being able to secure another job as immediately as I hoped it would be. It was quite a progress of my own to account for the interviews I have had the past month–compared to basically nothing in return for the applications I submitted for about 4 months last 2016–yet as there has been zero good news so far, I think it’s fair to be a bit anxious if this is going to be another long wait. Dear Lord, I sure hope not; it will make me a huge asshole for the family, and it will only make this financial family drama a lot worse.

Man, I was just preemptively laying it out and I’m already beat.

It also doesn’t help that it’s Chinese New Year soon, which means prep money for them red pockets. It’s good for me in a sense that I’m still accounted as the receiving end, but not so much for my old folks since us kids would be getting them prosperity packages from them. I also hated the whole tradition of having to buy new clothes and all, because they’re fucking expensive, and I’m about to be penniless due to the resignation, but my folks would insist on having new sets of clothing anyways. Come to think of it, I just had a little row with my Ma this morning because I refuse to get new shoes for work because it’s damn pricey. Nobody notices, except for her, and I still have another good pair I can wear on the visit to my relative’s house anyway, so I really cannot fathom the rush and the need of it while we’re still trying to pay off other more important stuff.

Having arguments about similar matters like these sound completely dumb, which was why I usually try not to mind it so much, sometimes by trying to just brush it off or compromise. Unfortunately, there are times when these things rub me off the wrong way and I was just frustrated about why it is even a problem. Having accumulated all the stress and exhaustion because of work, the handover, and the lack of assurance on the next job just burst the emotional bubble for me.

This is one of the things why I bode too well living alone and far away from all these strings attached and this miserable city I flunked into on the day of my birth lottery.

Nevertheless, I had three days remaining in this position and quite obviously cannot wait to sign up for another job soon–not because I just like working, but because life gave me absolutely no fucking option nor enough means to enjoy some down time. It’s the basics of survival; you know, money and experience. “Whatever for”, you ask? To get you to a better place before you die… or just to make sure someone can settle your bills for you when you die, because apparently nothing in this world is free, even when you’re leaving it for good.

Wish me luck for the upcoming interviews. Three cheers for the pseudo-life we’re all doomed in!