Why I am un-serious

It’s obvious; I never write anything serious. The things I’ve written are only ever frivolous. And to think that I so often scorn frivolousness. The things I write are frivolous because they are always about myself; what I do, what I think, the people I meet, my impressions of them, my dreams, my ideas, my sorrows, my pitiless circumstance, my loves, my failures, my regrets, in a word, my world. And don’t people just hate reading about other people. There was an afternoon where I was out for lunch for with a colleague, and for nearly the entire duration of our lunch, she was talking about herself; about how things are in her country, what she did in school, what she’s about to do, what kind of work she’s interested in, what her siblings are doing, what her this, what her that; everything she could curve back into her own world. I grew terribly bored within the first 10 minutes, and thereafter only half-listened and nodded whenever I sensed a pause and an expectation of acknowledgement.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s