Live Life, Shut Up

“Good heavens, how do people do this?”

That was, to an extent, the first thought I had this morning. To an extent, because while the sentiment was certainly there, the verbatim rendering of my first thought must have been more along the lines of: aahghrrr-uck-ow.

But how do people do this? Work, live, play? I may not own half of the consumer goods described in the Trainspotting quote above, I may not be facing life-changing dilemmas or having soul-seeking interior monologues about my raison d’être — not in my current stage of existence — but I do wonder.

The night before I’d gone to the theatre and had a couple of drinks (four, white wine, then water, about four too) and I was fast asleep, when? Two? Ish? In any case, this is what life-loving and life-living people are supposed to do.

They have jobs, work late some nights, go to the theatre, have full weekends, see concerts, read books. Some even manage to blog! I surely haven’t done that much lately — except for work, for others. Earning some respect and an extra buck here and there along the way. But live? Like I think others must live?

Oh, and did I mention? I’m not in any clubs, I don’t go to the gym (yet), have no relationship, no kids, no dog even. And still I’m probably forgetting bills, forgetting plans, forgetting people I promised to call soon two years ago.

I’ve no idea what my current bank balance is. I have five calendars I’m trying to balance. I’m balancing on a tightrope between yesterday and a vague tomorrow.

But sod it. Sod the whiners, the naggers, the ever-complaining undead I see on the bus every morning. I’m living life. It’s mine.

There may even be happiness in there. Somewhere. Good, that.

Inspired by Quofda, written in 18 minutes, posted because it was bloody well time.

Tags: balance, choose life, quofda, trainspotting, Work