The Big Bad World vs. My So-Called Lifestyle

Having lived my life the way it is, of course I wouldn’t really know any other way to live it. The world is harsh, cruel, and merciless. As the popular song goes, “Life’s a bitch, and then you die.” I strongly believe this, yet so far, I know I have lived the easy life. It’s a pretty boring life, quite frankly. And listening to other people tell their tales of drama and hardship, my so-called life doesn’t even stand a chance. The way I see it, it’s been reduced to a mere existential presence.

But despite all that, I can honestly say I’m cool with it. After all, I don’t really have the right to be jealous of other people’s trials. I mean, any person who’d be jealous of such is mentally ill and should be locked away.


I remember back in high school, a science lesson mentioned of Darwin’s (of course it might not exactly be by him, he just happened to be the only scientist I know with works in that field) evolutionary theory, Survival of the Fittest, and it sometimes dawns on me that it doesn’t just happen with evolution, but with real life as well. The weak ones die out, while the tougher ones live on. After all, life can really be a pretty nasty bitch when it wants to be.


My life was very sheltered. Away from pain, away from dire need, away from most difficulties. I have no experiences of dramatic traumas, no troublesome affairs, no major crises that deeply affected my adopted lifestyle. Sure, I’d go through some problems, but nothing that really influences me emotionally or psychologically. It’s nothing life-changing. Especially now that I live a quasi-independent life, my usual problems have now become thinking up numerous ways to splurge on my excess petty cash (can you believe it? My petty cash actually have its own petty cash! Hey, no complaining here…), and daring myself to actually get up from my bed (that’s me, such a daredevil!), away from the wondrous powers of television, and actually drag my unwilling behind to eight hours of excruciating work (I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Being a call center agent is a thankless, thankless job). I also constantly think up ridiculous excuses to deprive myself of simple hunger-satisfying grub (and it’s supposed to be a basic need) just so I don’t have to move a muscle (hey, if someone else can do it for you, why bother doing it yourself?). Believe you me, I procrastinate to the fullest degree possible. It’s not even an art anymore, I have it down to a science.

So yeah, if you think about it, I think this way of living passes for an easy life. Granted, it ain’t luxurious, but so long as I’m no pauper, it sure as hell can work for me.


So how do I compare my life to that of the people around me? Easy. It actually all boils down to one thing. Read: I am not “masa”. I obviously don’t deal with the normal issues “masa” people deal with. I don’t speak their language, our brands of humor differ, and I just don’t get whatever it is that they get (see? I can’t even name their thing).


The problem with “masas” is that they’re so many. I mean, it’s like a population explosion in their parents’ sleep. And then there’s me. Poor lone me. It’s like everywhere you go, they creep up on you like your own shadow but the sheer majority of the lot is enough to overpower you till you’re in an awkward, left-out rut. They gang up on you because you become different, apart from the rest of the world. And you’re left feeling more alone than ever because you can’t seem to connect with the majority. Just like high school, all over again.

Life for me is so “wala-wala lang”, no matter how big and bad the world gets to be, that sometimes I feel like I’m already above and beyond living. But is that really such a bad thing? More importantly, can that even be considered a good thing?

Eh… I’ll let you know when the answer hits me in the face with a brick.


~ by iamnotfrodo on March 10, 2006.

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