November and soon.. December

I am caught in the drudgery of work. Waking up in the mornings to clock in yet another 11 hours or so behind 4 BBG panels before seeking whatever social affirmations after dark. It is SO tiring. I must have aged at least 2 years since i started work. Don't get me wrong. Work is awesome. But i still asked myself, on a not so special Thursday, at a not so special sidewalk "nasi padang" stall, "Is this it? Is this the Life i am going to wake up to 2 years from now and still cannot figure out why i am doing all this for?" My greatest fear is not knowing what i had done, that Time will all be merged into inanities of "pay raise", "203rd breakup", "yet another dinner".. etc.

There must be a measure. A guide that allows me to really keep track. and i am manic about "keeping track" especially since so many new words are being hurled at me as the days progresses. My dad is throwing "marriage" at me to see if i catch on. I throw back "no freaking way", "career" and "wanton lifestyle" at him. The scary part is one day he throws "marriage" at me and i catch it ring finger first. Not necessarily because i am a good catch, but im too old to throw anything back and him.

I AM getting old. Am i feeling my age? All 23 years of it? Definitely. I know this when i stare at myself in the mirror and ask why i look so god-damn jaded. This is getting more often by the day. Anytime of day or night. I'm not going to indulge in the "It's your 18 hour days and wanton partying ways" argument, even if that's true, because surely regeneration should be the balm to all degenerating activities, no?

I was telling someone while we were out one weekend that after a while, (which roughly translates into one year from now), I am not going to seek entertainment outdoors, I'll just want to stay home and entertain from home. Which means that I am not going to the circus anymore, I'm going to be the clown, the trapeze acts, the elephant that goes amok, Siegfried & Roy, the 7 year old Chinese boy who forgot his harness, the sword swallower.. (you get my drift). Which brings me to my next crazy but not-so-surprising musing..

Getting my own apartment. I have stayed away from home for 1 and a half years when i was still in school. A really nice place. Large room, double bed, airconditioning and on good days, 3 year old crackers on the bed next to the cess pool. And i miss having the luxury of privacy. To crawl into bed at 3am in the morning and waking up 14 hours later and have no one (read: MOM) tell me to get up because i am a girl and i have to do housework, to that i usually retort for most of my adulthood that:

1. I need my sleep because waking up at 10am means that i only have 7 hours of sleep and i will start bleeding from my nostrils if i have anything less than 12 hours of sleep.

2. I have never done housework in my life, and the only reason MOM says that is so that she can strike conversation at 10am in the morning when SHE is particularly bored since she :

a. Doesn't do housework herself.
b. Doesn't have a facial, pedicure, shopping spree to attend to.
c. Is not a particularly vibrant conversationalist and would not lure me out of bed with
money.

When my mom is extra particularly bored and needs me to pander to her whims, she does the whole "Your mother-in-law is not going to be impressed with a daughter-in-law who sleeps in on weekends" to that i usually say "Well that's because her son keeps me up all night.." I wonder why my mom even bothers sometimes...