I really really wanna leave here.

Especially since it’s getting colder, and every morning could be the start of the snow season. Winter here means waking up in the cold dark and coming back home in the cold dark. Snow has turned into mud or formed into slippery ice. It leaves two possibilities:

1: your jeans soak up the icy water.
2: you fall on your face whilst trying your best not to fall on your ass.

Everyone in traffic is in a lousy mood. Hibernating, just eating and sleeping till winter passes, would be so great.

Working in a big renowned company, in a competitive field, with lots of possibilities, lots to see, lots to do yadda yadda yadda…especially for a young person starting out, in times of global recession, it looks enviable to most but my mind wanders to fantasizing about traveling here and there, meeting friends all over the world, making new friends…and Korea. It’s a fascinating country. I know it tells a tale I wanna buy in to. With the beautiful people, the fun songs, seemingly everyone is so well-behaved and decent, the fashion, the food etc. but on the other hand there are crazy netizens, suicides left and right, incomprehensible government policies…so a lot of stuff is not what they seem to be, and obviously prejudice and immatureness are omnipresent. Basically Korea is a place where dreams can thrive or be crushed, and somehow it seems the latter is more the case. Still, it’s intriguing and I wanna know if it’s a dream or a nightmare for me.

Nothing here is intriguing. It is what it is. All the places I’ve already been, same old same old, just like the people here. It doesn’t offer room for dreams. So I bitch and moan to my friends, parents, colleagues etc. how this and that sucks, why there is so much math when I wanted a job where I can use my creativity and not even have to touch math with a tadpole…

…and occasionally I see a picture like this

flooding

It’s a picture on Tumblr (credit to original uploader) where this girl cries over her schoolbooks that have been destroyed due to flooding, I guess. It silences me. It puts me to shame.
I barely ever cared much about my schoolbooks. In fact, some of them looked brand new even after the year was over. I always wanted to see the world and learn about life through, well, life itself, or if not firsthand-experience than through movies or TV shows or books, but rarely ever school books. Seeing that kid so devastated over something that I cared so little for puts things into perspective. Makes me a little less selfish. Happy to have a home, enough food, family and friends, a job that pays rent, and possibilities in life. What right do I have to complain? So I stop. At least for now.