Curse the thing called comfort.
I have adapted to my life here at work, and I curse that. I’m comfortable working here, and I curse that. I am comfortable living in Singapore, and I curse that. Comfort makes me accept. Acceptance for something less than what could have been, or could be.
A few weeks ago, before I got comfortable at work, I used to think all the time about what better things I could be doing. I was going mad. I knew other people were doing better things, more interesting things. I was stuck doing data-entry-like website updates, while some of my classmates were learning new things like Linux or XML.
I cursed my luck being in this company, and was more than ready to confront my supervisor for some change. Then as luck would have it, I settled. I got comfortable. I changed the people I compared myself to: some of my friends are working in worse companies, having lower pay, longer hours, worse jobs.
I started feeling glad that I was in this office working. That I could do what I was doing. Nothing had changed, yet every changed.
I started to actually like coming for work. To actually accept what I had. I called what I had, “good”. I was in a “good” job. I was doing “good” work. Life was “good”. Being comfortable in life, was good.
The Enemy of the Best
Then came the realisation. The realisation that the good is the worst enemy of the best. I was so comfortable that I no longer wanted anything more. I had a good job, what else could I ask for? I didn’t need anything more.
I could ask for the best. But would the best actually be better? Is it worth all the pain thinking about how to get the best?
This has always gotten me. Do I seek for the middle-way, for comfort, or do I go all out for the best? I’m caught in two-minds, and they’re giving me a splitting headache.
What do you do when you have such a dilemma?