The Meaning of Life

It is simply appreciation. The need to feel relevant. That we have a purpose in life and we are actively furthering the purpose. To be worth something. Anything. To somebody or something at least. Having a cause makes life worth living. Be it a family, a job or for the arts or science, you pick.
I do not think the human soul is meant for idleness.

Well that is my take anyway. I exclude monks from my discussion. They throw my theory into whack. I know too little about monks to comment.

Now that I have discovered the meaning of life, I am no where close to feeling enlightened because I am lacking a purpose. 28 years old and no purpose. I should be terrified. Let me rephrase that. I should be shit terrified. Ah, and I showed so much promise.

I think we all are capable of going to great lengths to be appreciated. But trust me, being super nice to people is not good for the soul. Trying to be agreeable all the time is not good for the soul. I know, you would think who wouldn’t like a Nice Guy/Gal? But after being Ms Doormat, Mademoiselle Taken for Granted, Miss Won’t Take a Stand for The Sake of Keeping the Peace, I quit. I quit. I quit.

And if you fall under this category, heck you should too. At the end of the day, if you don’t appreciate yourself, don’t kid yourself in thinking anyone else would.

I am real good for advice but I am at the drawing board on how to make it work. I am still working on standing up for myself. Right now I am taking it out on service providers. Yes I do feel empowered when I politely send back a lipstick stained coffee mug to the sour-faced Starbucks barrista. And complaining about the lousy soft-shelled crab at Genki Sushi. And yes, I feel I am doing the world a favour by blasting Maxis for their connection problems.

I am a customer. Hear me roar.

Being inconsequential sucks. For example, I am acutely aware that my brother has little regard for me. He is young, artsy and independent. At this juncture, the world is his crustacean. I am neither thin, fashionable nor popular. I am relevant only because I am his sister and little else. He sure as hell ceased looking up to me. And I feel funny about it.

Anyway the point I am trying to make, albeit, in a very roundabout way, is how crucial it is to be and more importantly to know, that one is being appreciated.

Well, I didn’t and feeling sorry for myself apparently didn’t help. I even went through mild depression. Even dropped hints the size of Mexico to let people know about it. (my cry for help la konon). Didn’t work. Empathy was not forthcoming. Nobody smothered me with love and chicken soup. No hero came to yank me out of the pits.
The truth is I didn’t even stand out. When one is clawing out of depression solo, one wonders what is wrong with oneself that nobody even notices. Could it be that nobody gives a toss?

So lesson learnt, we are all responsible only for our own happiness. Goodness, this entry is beginning to sound preachy. This is so not a story where protagonist goes through tragedy, learns lesson and becomes a better woman. As if.

Heck I crave approval still, I hurt when I feel alone, I am still looking for that thing, that elusive Purpose-in-Life that I will be good at, that would make me feel worthy, complete. But I am bent on worshipping little me and keeping myself relatively happy for now before I woo the world.

True happiness is in your hands. So be selfish. And go all ahead for personal empowerment. And most important, remember to be polite when you send things back to avoid finding spit in your coffee.