There's A Blues For Friday Too

Fridays are like this. My mind has gone into the weekend mode. Dragging my feet at doing work, can't wait for the end of day. My God it's only 10.27am. What have I gotten myself into?

8.45-5.45 for 5 days a week. Of course, the working hours only serve as a general guide. Commuting takes 30 minutes in the morning and 45 minutes in the evening. That's 10 hours and 15 minutes less off my life to live. Having only 5 to 6 hours of personal time every weekday is depressing. No wonder I have 5 books yet to be read (yes, I bought another one - Haruki Murakami's Norwegian Woods). My electric reclines in solitude against the amp while the Epiphone acoustic rests against the far wall by the window, the camera has been left untouched for many days, some DVDs still to watch.

I need more time.

Weekends? I fill it in with as much sleep as I can muster to recover from the week(s) past. But that would also be subject to family engagements, trips to stores to buy needful (and needless, just because I can) things, all the miscellaneous stuff. Sometimes even sleep has to take a backseat.

I long for the long lazy days of yore, when time ticks by unimportantly. When sleeps rules above all else, and classes comes somewhere next to last in my priority list. I had a close knit group of friends, we do crazy stuff, we sleep at ungodly hours, we talked and ate and watched and read and heard and basically did anything we wanted to. Time means n-o-t-h-i-n-g.

Being a corporate whore has its' perks, but at what price?