On Borrowed Time

We live on borrowed time. Each and every one of us. We borrowed constantly from a perceived future of health and wealth. We take risks, we choose to eat a bit unhealthy, play a bit harder, work a little harder, skip a meal here and there, sleep a little less, skip exercise, dove into our own world and forgetting others all the meantime thinking to ourselves, "oh well, there will be time later to catch up, rest up, heal up." 

The problem is that we never quite know how much of the future we can borrow against. It is a dangerous game then, taking out a huge loan, especially if along the way we don't develop the habit to save up. Save up on energy, save up on health, save up on wealth, save up on memories with people closest to you. 

It becomes a gamble, and trust me, there are some IOUs that you don't want to regret having, especially if it is a bit of quality time with loved ones. There are debts we simply can't afford. 

So it is that I ask of you in this Christmas season, when the urge to borrow and spend is great, be mindful of what you spend on and invest. Spend a bit more time with people you care about, and who cares for you deeply. Don't expect that they will always be there. Invest on cultivating love, don't assume it will remain patient and present. Say the words that people need to hear, do the things that will make a difference however small. Invest a bit more in taking care of yourself that you don't take too much of your future from yourself or deprive others of you by wasting it all today some way or the other. Do it right so you don't need to take a new lease on life, for the loan office of life is fickle.

Bewilder

If I were to characterize American politics in 2017 with an emotion, it would be one of bewilderment.  The experience is akin to watching someone you love, a favourite grand uncle perhaps, succumbing to dementia and giving into paranoia.  The once benevolent figure with a sweet countenance has now become a mad individual.

Normally we would find help, or commit them to a place that can accord the necessary care. Yet, due to limited healthcare and insurance, and lack of support from other accountable figures (e.g. uncles and aunts) in the family, this "grand uncle" now lives with us, a middle-income family with little means. And every morning we find him standing on the front lawn in a nightshirt, underpants and combat boots, waving an automatic rifle,  spewing forth vitriol, demanding for a higher fence because he suspects our neighbours may be stealing our newspaper and milk.

Our neighbours shake their heads, the cops have been called, but to no avail.  To add injury to the wound, this rich grand uncle has sworn to leave us out of the will; instead, leaving all his inheritance to some rich cousins, business partners, and golfing buddies who have yet to lift a finger to help. He has multiple estates, but we are never allowed to set foot on them.  

Day in and day out, it has now become the norm. We live with this stress, not knowing quite what to expect, but realizing it will be embarrassing nonetheless.  The backyard is littered with cigarette butts, the once pristine walls of the house riddled with the chicken scratch of a man-child.  The market value of the house continues to deteriorate, and it feels as if nothing can be done to repair it. We are now the laughingstock of the town.  I am bewildered.