I've been spending much of my weekends this month going to the cinemas with friends. Work has been demanding lately and I've been lazy with exercise. I can't seem to write creatively anymore. I've been putting off some of my priorities to give way to new things. Which isn't a bad idea - I've got to spend the time I should have used for getting my writing 'skills' back or toning my body to be with friends, to strengthen bonds, to fire my passion for beautiful things.
To be honest, I'm beginning to think I'm making my dream a reality somehow. I mean, if I look really deep into my core, all I want is to lead a quiet life surrounded by beautiful things; to be creative, to never run out of reasons to be awed by my surroundings. This non-existent drive to have a career is starting to worry me for two reasosn: one, that it might just be an excuse for my fear and laziness, like a cloak that covers up my willingness to face hardships; and second, that it might actually what I will get eventually - a life devoid of a profession and not aiming at anything really.
Have I become like one of Murakami's characters by reading too much of his books? Haha! But then again, I don't really need much to be happy or contented. I've always been drawn to simple things, not asking for too many things.