The truth about being scared and late night "bunburying".

So I read a book late last year, maybe two or three years ago. The importance of being earnest by Oscar Wilde. Its a play, often described as being comedic. I make it a point to read books that i find "memorable" more than once. At least once or twice every year. I feel as if, as times change, I should be able to glean a different message from whatever I read. Its like a check to find out whether or not I've "grown" in a sense. Whether I'm more receptive to intricate life themes I may have missed at first read.

So why I've I come here to ramble? I realised that it's been a while since I was here. Life can do that. Shuffling multiple online jobs can do that as well. Still, recently I had a cause to yearn for a pause time as a result of an incident that has made me more sensitive of my "humaness".

I fell sick. And was a way from myself for a while. But I'm thankful I'm here for the aftermath. Thankful I'm present enough to be existential enough to claim being "scared". Its a bit harder gathering your thoughts and making this kind of writing work, kinda like an antithesis to freelance writing where you feel like you're going to be reviewed or better yet paid if your work suits your client.

Thankfully, I don't ramble as much as I do on here(must be why i still got a job). The incident made me think about the Oscar Wilde book and the concept of bunburying, what I vaguely translate to being away from somewhere. I tend to have fleeting moments were I wish I was somewhere, someone else. I think we all do.

While I don't remember much, I'll make it a point to re read the " importance of being earnest" just to get a feel of what i've missed. Its certainly something worth celebrating, being alive.