I used to hate sun. It made me dizzy and obnoxious. Having been in the southern hemisphere for more than just a few years, I've come to an agreement with the generally warm weather. Now I actually like the sun light very much. I like summer and its warmth. Even the blazing heat is still better than the fierce cold. My lame shoulder gets its blood circulation warmed. I can exercise without worrying too much about catching cold inadvertently. And I can enjoy beach and the sea breeze, not that I am in reality able to do this on a daily basis though. Beer tastes better too, although I somehow prefer wine when it's summer.

I wish I lived by great beach, in a wooden cottage, with a beautiful and kind company, and did not worry about earning my daily bread, in an all-year-summer land where it doesn't rain too much.

Wishful thinking.

Having felt it necessary that I'd have to take up some extra cardio exercise for my fitness, I've decided to run home from work. It's a fair bit of distance from work to home - takes about 50 mins by foot. Today was the first experiment.

No, actually, I did walk home from City last Friday. Just gave it a go when I missed a bus which was to arrive an hour later. Even by the time I got home, it wasn't time for the bus. That day it was a bit taxing on my feet because I had to put up with my work shoes.

This time I've brought my casual shoes to work - unfortunately I don't have a pair of running shoes. But casual shoes still were so much better than the formal work shoes. Because the way is rather hilly, it was a hard work. But the harder it gets, the more worthy it is for my cardio level, right?

At the completion of the exercise, I've dropped by the local shopping mall and bought a 1.25L bottle of sparkling mineral water and a pack of 'ultra-thin' condom. I felt like some sort of animal at the time I purchased them, and it was curiously satisfying. I wolfed down the bottle and arrived home safely. The sun was still high up in the sky - I love summer.

My new resolution was (and it's only the fifth of Jan now) to have a shoulder reconstruction this year and have an iron-strong shoulder which will enable me to throw wild right hook, to paddle like watermill on great sea wave and to never lose a grip on a desperate double-leg attempt.

To my greatest regret, however, money proves to be the bar again. I'd have to invest at least $1370 on private health fund for a period of a good year before I can be eligible for comprehensive surgery and necessary treatments.

Oh well, there goes a seemingly realistic new year's resolution.

I tell myself, every now and then, that I am incapable of feeling happy, or satisfied. In fact, I don't appear to be in a bad shape though. I have a job. I have company. I get my bedding. I drink and I am still considered young. But no matter how I look at it, I cannot imagine what it is like to feel happy, satsfied, or even loved. I sound like a spoiled teenager who hates everything around himself but I know it's just what I am. The twist is, I always crave to get something better than what I already have. Not a very uncommon symptom in today's general population, I admit. But it is a twist because, despite all my preconditions to plunge myself into the sea of deep depression and despondencies, I somehow manage to do better because I always feel frustrated and wholly unsatisfied. Thus, having looked at some mortal examples who struggle to improve themselves, I almost think that maybe it's not too bad that I find it impossible to feel content with what I am or what I have. That is by no means to suggest I have so much motivation. I always suffer from being listless and lethargic. I hate myself because I have no motivation or passion for something. The older I get, moreover, the harder it is to grasp any symptom of motivation in my everyday life. Like a flu that arrives with all sorts other symptoms such as runny nose, sore throat and fever, my lethargic status of mind or body is infected with inability to feel impressed, moved or excited. But if getting old comes with any kind of relief that has not been manifested in previous years, it is the ability to compromise. I learn to compromise because otherwise I won't be able to deal with my extremely vulnerable glassy mental status. So, in order to overcome all that unhappy states of mind that roam within my system like abominable cancer cells, and I try to overcome them because I crave something better than what I have, I disguise myself under a thick skin developed over many years. A thick skin that is not exactly pretty but gets me going and move around because it offers temporary protection against debilitating rains of emptiness and frustration. Therefore,

I feign.

I often feel empty. But I know there are things I can do to fill in the gaps. I choose not to do those things. I blame this on my lack of motivation. It would be fantastic to have so much motivation and waste no time on procrastination.

And I'd naturally think about how I can build up my motivation.

That's a good start. No, I mean, that's only a start. I'm not too sure if that can possibly be a 'good' start. I say this because I merely think about how to build up my motivation. The motivation to do things. To take a further step and to get out of the comfort zone. Not easy. Or rather, it occurs rather rarely.

Then I'd envy those who seem to possess enormous will power. I wonder how they do it. It must be some kind of inborn quality. They say you achieve it through making efforts. But how do you make efforts if you're simply unable to do it. Or rather, if it just doesn't happen in your life? Then I give up. I just tell myself that's just how it is. I wasn't born with the gift.

Or sometimes I'd just do it (whatever that is).