My home’s undergoing some renovation work at present. Though on the surface it seems that that not enough’s going on to cause a considerable drop in the quality of my life, the bad vibes from alien structures scattered about the house, the forced relocations of many of my most commonly used and loved items (my shoes, camera, and the irreplaceable
Gungun kunkun er hao), and the seemingly endless supply of dust over everything (sheets included) just keep gnawing away at you till you’re ready to implode; and the fact that there’s no home to run away to in times like these feels horribly claustrophic (“Out! Out! I want to get out!”)
It’s times like these that I really start appreciating my home; and, as I sit here and type about my temporary loss of a good home, I start realising how fortunate I am to have had what I have had. I cannot imagine what it’d be like to be without a home, or to have a home I dread going back to. And yet, this is the reality thousands (millions?) of people, children or otherwise, live with every single day.
Who am I to complain, right?
I suddenly feel really compelled to do something to improve the lives of those still longing to find their home, be it a literal home or not.
I love to read and write. Professionally, data science, technology, and sales ops are my thing. In my non-professional life, I aspire quite simply to be a good person, and encourage others to do the same. For those who care, I test as INFJ in the MBTI.