Half-Assed Living

Recently, I realised that I do a lot of things half-assed. I go out of my way and try stuff. Meet people. For example, I’ll go to an event, join whatever it is, and talk to one or two people in between. But as soon as it finishes, I’m on my way. If they have a drink or supper planned afterwards, I won’t join. It’ll be too much for me.

Too much what, I don’t know. Am I afraid to be too close to people? I don’t think that’s the issue. Maybe I’m just hitting my social battery by the end of the event, so I don’t have the mental capacity for more. But I keep doing this. Why am I rushing? Where am I rushing to? To my single room, where no one is waiting for me? Absolutely not.

I’ve noticed this a few times recently. There was a hike I joined, and I spent five hours with those people. But afterwards, it was dinner time, and we all went to a food court. And though most people sat at long tables to keep chatting, I ate by myself. It wasn’t a sad occasion. I was actually very blissful about it. Peaceful, even.

Again, at Toastmasters, it was a fine two hours. After that, people went to Burger King for supper. It still surprises me how people eat dinner that late, at 10 pm—but hey, who am I to judge? I was the queen of late-night snacks once upon a time. So, I didn’t go. Instead, I rushed to the MRT and got home. It was still early when I got there, so I killed some time on my phone before it was my bedtime.

See, this is what I mean by doing things half-assed. You’re not diving into the full experience. You only dip your toes in. Because an event is an event, but people usually connect more afterwards, over food or drinks. That’s the thing.

I was thinking about this the other day, wondering if I’m just tired in general, from work, so I simply don’t have any energy left for after-hours things. Or if I’m old. Or an ambivert. I want to say: D, all of the above. It could be anything and everything. Not just staying for drinks after an event but even going to the event often feels like a chore.

I choose these things myself. I search for them, find them based on my personality and hobbies. I arrange the timing, get myself ready; sometimes I even pay. And yet, most of the time, I still don’t want to go. But I push myself—because one cannot stay home all the time.

I was talking to my colleague about this the other day, telling him I didn’t know why I’m like this. And he said he’s always been like this, too. He’s not as old as I am, and I’d say we share similar personality traits. So maybe it’s our introvert selves screaming to stay indoors and not mingle anymore. But very often, I do want to go out, mingle, and do things that make me slightly uncomfortable—so that I can grow.

In a world where we don’t even know how long we’re going to live, what’s stopping us from going all in so that, god forbid, we enjoy the experience fully? Excuse my phrasing; I just finished that famous ’90s TV show, so I want to start every sentence like this. But seriously, in a world where we invest so much in assets like cars, houses, and land, do we even invest enough in ourselves? Meaning: going out there and living fully, whatever there is to live.

I went to Korea and never tried octopus, for example. Then in Japan, I did try it—but didn’t like it. I’m someone who would go all the way to East Asia and just eat fried chicken and be content with it. Do you know what I’m saying? But then—where do we draw the line? What’s fully living, and what’s simply knowing our limits and behaving accordingly?

In a world where all lines are blurred, can one push herself just enough to enjoy, without falling off the cliff? Asking for a friend.