Being 99.9% at home where home should be takes its toll sometimes. It's creepy as it become boredom eventually. There is that need for me to do something, usually something to do with creativity. But, with the limited internet connection and limited resources, I recently just confine myself to books, which is not really bad at all. When did the last time I finish a good book? Or, finish reading something I've thought it's good then end up with a "crap" expression?
I feel empty. I feel dead. I feel unproductively stagnant. Bum. Making life a proof of sloth. Adding to that idea is a predicament between a PS3 or a Wii. It's a good thing I still partially know how to make use of my idle time, mind and body. Wait, I do not have an idle body, just mind and perhaps spirit and soul.
I am still grateful of everyday. Perhaps I have inherited such privilege because my ancestors did so well with whatever they had done in the past. Saying that, I am still in the business of what they done, but in my own little way.
I am still grateful of everyday. Perhaps I have inherited such privilege because my ancestors did so well with whatever they had done in the past. Saying that, I am still in the business of what they done, but in my own little way.
There is meaning to life more than this life. I know. I just know. I am just killing time.
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