Dear diary,

You know how parents always want you to "quit lazing around, go enrich yourself"? Well after 21 years of living I think I finally achieved something along that line this week, by the broadest of definition no doubt.

I read three books in a week. One being The Unbearable Lightness of Being. It was never a light read, and to tell you the truth, it made my being pretty unbearable. The other two is Man and Boy and Man and Wife, but I won't touch on them. This isn't a book review.

I did twenty push-ups(which I swore seemed more like fifty). Played basketball, for a while. Woke up way early, something ninish/tennish. Damn I feel like a superhuman.

I scrubbed. I dusted. I wiped. I dumped. I recycled. I soaped. Oh my God, when will the horror end. This by the way, is the major annual event: spring cleaning. And I used to wonder why it's called "spring" cleaning when there's hardly any spring to consider in my part of the world, and metaphorically spring represents a season of joy and renewed hopes. Then as I grow older I realise "spring" is synonymous with "jump", or rather "pounce". How devilishly clever.

So I did all the things that should enrich me somewhat. I was expecting that little "ding" sound that registers whenever you level up in a game. It never came. How can I tell if I was "enriched" or not then. Literally I didn't feel any richer, bank statement's still a joke. I didn't feel any different inside either. Wasn't any smarter than before. Nope. In fact I developed a phelgmy cough.

Where the hell are the benefits?! My sense of well-being?! I demand some proof! Sometimes you just feel so shortchanged.