Thoughts that rattle in my head

Halfway through this book, "Veronika Decides to Die" by Paulo Coelho.

Nothing thrilling, not a page-turner, but its so deep and I can't place my finger on why it's so peculiar. Some parts I don't really get, but so far I empathise with it. Interesting book.

Anyway, so the book talks about a girl who wanted to escape the mindless routine of life, then she gets warded in a mental hospital. Only in there, some patients are normal, some curable, and some incurable. And there they are healed partly by medicine, partly because the environment allows them to break out of the routine and live life as truly themselves. And a patient (she's one of the curable, normal ones) says to the girl, that crazy means simply a deviation from what is considered normal, right to the majority.

That's as far as I've read.

And these years as a student, and lots of things we learn now will never be used in future. Maybe at Sec to JC level. Uni's more applicable of course. But maybe we learn them so that more opportunities will be open for us. And in this elitist society, everyone wants to do well, to get that job. And so Uni entry grades climb higher, job requirements climb higher, everything goes up, people want to climb higher. So they work hard. They study hard.

But it's just that... I don't really want to. I don't mind staying at the bottom of the hierarchy, 'cos someone has to be at the bottom anyway. No difference between it being me or the other guy. I just want a job that will always be needed in society, doesn't matter what the salary is. Yeah doctors are needed, scientists are needed, bomb-makers are needed. But cleaners, postmen, teachers, office errand boys, librarians, policemen are needed too.

So yeah, what and who am I working hard for? My parents? Not that it matters. People who taught me, like my teachers? Of course not. Myself? Hah. Haiz I'm too easy-going, too happy-go-lucky.

Working hard so that when I'm called for, there will be many doors that I can be called into? Maybe.

But then again, why would He need me? He can always call someone else.

And yet I'm still here.

So, what is life for?