I haven't touched blogger for years but not because of limited access. The case seemed that I lost my creative juices even for writing a blog. I drew and wrote poetry before I became a "professional." But I missed my old me. I needed to study to get a degree, I needed that degree to get a job and I needed the job to get some money. All throughout the process I belived that after being financially stable I could get back to my old ways and let the muses back in.

Nope. Didn't happen. Working basically sucked the life out of me. And I'm left deflated at the end of the day with only enough energy to eat my dinner then get ready for bed.

I might have called myself successful by getting my license then landing a respectable job. But really what is success? Is it to haul yourself out of bed everyday, walking down a stressful street, traffic, then finding an office stuffed full of work. It's not that I'm lazy or anything or that I can count on my parents for financial support. (I am not from a rich family.) It's just that I find myself wondering if that life was meant for me. Is the stress I'm dealing worth the salary I was given?

Before we graduated we were told that the easiest place for a certified accountant would be an auditing firm. They were right, the interview ended with me signing an employment contract. But we were also warned that we would be facing nights of no sleep. We thought, "we're used to sleepless nights studying, we can handle it." Living the high life, NOT. We did sleep less than 2 hours during the peak audit season and I had my first breakdown. Under piles of papers, I forgot to take my lunch, decided I didn't feel hungry then kept on working. Very bad idea. My knees were shaking. I went home early then was barely able to reach my bed. Fatigue and empty stomach equals K.O.

I've argued with myself if I should resign or not. It meant I would be unemployed, but at least no more possible breakdowns. (To be honest the firm was great, wonderful benefits and all, I was just personnally unfit for the job.) Also knowing how people talk, going back to my mom would mean I was a failure. Am I a failure for trying to balance my life, setting it back into one where the pace won't leave skidmarks?

Life doesn't go as planned as always. People are pulled by the social current where we as individuals judge ourselves by what others would think not understanding that they won't know what we really need. Only we ourselves could name that. Afraid of being different, afraid to be shunned. But living under rocks is not a life. It's cramped. I want to do what I want to do. Why let them tell me I can't?

(Note: The law can still tell you you can't.)

True happiness does not lie with money. That's what the tv says anyway, but then again, can you actually live in this world without those greens?

Imagine wanting to travel the world, to see the sights. Besides the transportation fares, you'd need the accommodations for when you go out of town not to mention buying new clothes cause let's face it, no one exactly owns the exact type of clothing for every country.

To draw or paint, you'd need the supplies.

Baking requires ingredients, so does cooking.

Simply living in a house gives you bills. Water, electricity, (wifi...). The (basic) needs.

I've spent running after money. And it made me lose the time for all the things i love to do. I've stressed, became suicidal, and generally just wished for time to stop. I quit my old job then to a month to rest but it was easy that my resources were dwindling fast. I went back to my hobbies but my paints were dried up, my pencils were thrown away, and I simply used the back of old calendars to sketch on. Being unemployed had its own stress. So I tries looking for other work, again my life dissolves into the mundane.