musings

"You'll make a ton of money....bags and bags, more than you could ever imagine - and it won't make a bit of difference. Because you'll be working as hard as you were before, maybe harder, and you won't be able to stop, and one day you'll look up and realize the only thing that's changed in your life is your location. And you'll wonder why the hell you spent your life doing it..."

Billy Litchfield - One Fifth Avenue by Candace Bushnell

Spending the start of my weekend battling a nasty sinus infection and treating myself to yet another chick lit, while doing housework and watching an inane episode of The Hills, all at the same time. Now who says I can't multitask eh? 

All this while pondering about the overrated, overarching question of happiness and true satisfaction - the equilibrium of life. Although I truly enjoy my (over?) indulgence in work and the sense of creating and achieving something, I can't help but wonder if I'm missing out on something. Should I be out of the house more? Ought I be partying more? Am I missing out by not hanging out more? But if it really matters to me, why do I constantly choose to stay home and read rather than be out there? 

Am I uncomfortable with myself aside from working and dancing? 

Anyhow, the passage above just jumped out, and got me thinking. It's probably true that the whole idea of working towards retirement thing is a mere facade. We reason that by working our asses off now, we can look forward to a better life in future, however long that may be. And once we make 'enough' to warrant us a lifestyle that's comfortable enough for our standards, we'll quit or retire and enjoy a whole new life of fun and frolic in the sun. 

But that probably isn't true. 

If things go our way, the harder (and smarter) we work, the more successful we'll become, and consequently, the more moolah we'll make. With that, we'll probably move forward. To a bigger house, a better car, or get a place or two in a snazzier location. But once we're there, we'll want to move further. This will go on, until we find the point at which we're satisfied. Or when we can't do it anymore. For whatever reason. 

So when that happens, will we eventually fall back wondering why the hell have we spent our entire lives doing what we do, trying to achieve what we think we want in life? 

Or will we smile happily to ourselves, noting that we've truly lived our lives to the fullest, doing all we could to get what we want to have. In effect, saying that there's nothing, absolutely nothing I would change in my life if I could live it again. 

Then again, that's the whole point of living right? To just do it; live it, and see how it unfolds for you? Just enjoy the ride and not worry about where you'll end up? 

I don't know.