I have spent another uneventful Sunday at home.

Yet, for the first time, I begin to enjoy the uneventfulness.

I seem to remember how I used to get restless when I have nothing to do at home. But work have taken such a heavy toil that I really appreciate the time when I just sit at home and roost.

It was in the voids of emptiness that I realised how I have been on a crazy chase in the last few weeks. All the effort invested in work for minutes of glory and appreciation. It seems hardly worth it. Besides, the recognition does not even mean anything, besides satisfying the needs of some egoistic bosses.

I begun to consider why we actually work. The reason spate of killings have brought home a point that we should really be living our lifes the way we want; we never know when we will prematurely discontinue life's journey. But the large chunk of our time seemed to be engrossed in work. I asked a superior not too long ago why are we working so hard. He answered that we need money to enjoy our life. That seems reasonable until I realised that we have been driven so hard till we have no time for enjoyment.

I need some time off...