Bothered

I just attached the song of il Divo to my blog, and though I know that Popsiccal (a.k.a. a combination of pop and classical) tunes is an acquired taste, this particular song I really like. What can I say? I'm just as vain as the next guy. Let's just say this song means something. Anyway, I can always choose not to hear it. I'm actually one of those that get annoyed when I visit someone's blog then the music starts blaring, I get turned off and just leave the freaking site.

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I spoke with my uncle yesterday, actually chatted with him. He's based in Houston where he's taking his 107th degree in one of their Universities. We were talking about his dad, he's in his 70s and he likes to talk about death and being in the 4th quarter of his life. I spent the weekend at their house but not once did I go out, I just watched TV and slept (major couch potato at work), while his dad kept going out on lunches and dinner dates with his friends.

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Anyway, my point is, I told my uncle that his dad had more of a life than I did. He said that I had no life at all to begin with. Not until I leave this god forsaken country and leave for abroad like the rest of my fellow countrymen would that even be remotely possible. That bothered me, never mind the fact that I could be exaggerating it a bit. But I mean, I'm not exactly averse to the idea of leaving my country, in fact I have been whining myself to death for the past two years about how I want to do exactly that. But what bothered me was that fact that he was right. I don't have a life. Like I have put everything on hold till I do get out of here and then that's when I start living my life. What the hell is wrong with me? Ok whatever, I will not even start dwelling on the innumerable ways of how fucked up I am, I shall just leave it at that.

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I'm bothered.