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“What is the point of folding them if we are going to wear them again tomorrow or in the next few days?” a child asked his mom when she asked him to fold the laundry. “Well, if you are okay with wrinkled clothes, if you are okay with rummaging through the stash of laundry in the basket every morning to find the clothes that you want to wear and then be late for school, then, don’t fold.” The mother answered casually. The child thought for a while about what his mother said and went on to folding the laundry.
I have been thinking for quite a bit about the things that I do. Is there a point? What do I learn from it? Do I feel happy, do I gain anything in any kind? I remembered some years back, as I was mopping the floor, I stopped for a bit to check the notifications on my phone. It was some latest feed by my connections on a social media platform. I clicked on them and scrolled down one feed after another.
Before I knew it, thirty minutes passed just like that and I was surprised at how fast time flew by without me realizing it. I was most appalled by the fact that I have wasted that thirty minutes just scrolling through people’s lives, my supposedly connections, most of whom I was no longer in touch with and junk news that were on my feed. What was the point of it all? There was no point really when it had nothing to do with me. What good did it do to me, browsing through people’s lives.
If the person was important to me and if I am important to them, we would have messaged or called each other to share news about our lives. Since then, I stopped browsing through the social media platforms because I didn’t think there was a point to it and I felt it was a waste of time. My time was better spent on things that were more fruitful and productive, or calling friends and family who truly matter.
Then, there was writing, whether it was here or anywhere. Is there a point to it? As a teenager growing up, I used to write diaries, you know the whole “Dear diary….” . Not everyday but whenever something “major” happened in my life. It was my channel to release my thoughts, to pen them down in the way that I enjoyed writing them or just to rant my heart out.
Today, it was writing to earn a little but what if or when I do not earn? I thought for a bit these couple of days and my conclusion was yes, there was a point to it for the very same reasons as writing my diary. It would have been better if there was earning and as human nature, I would look for alternatives to earn but either way, I felt there was a point to it even. Earning would have been an additional motivation. If I do, for the slightest bit that was given, I am grateful. I may not write as often as I did, but I still enjoy this bit of pastime.
Sometimes, it is not a pastime, but it is a necessity to release the inner thoughts that has been shelved for a long while, waiting for a time to be exhumed and to fulfill my desire to type on the keyboard. I love keyboards and I love the feeling of keys on my fingers when they get tapped, and the sounds of the tapping keys. Call me crazy but tapping on keyboard makes me happy but I have to admit, I am lacking on the engagement part, just because the feeling has changed and it is no longer the same as before when I first joined any writing platforms. People changed, the attitude changed, the mood changed and I am still wondering the point of it
Cleaning is the other thing that I have been thinking about and am still thinking about on a daily basis. What is the point of cleaning if something cleaned will always get dusty and dirty again. For clothes and things that we use on a daily basis, there is a point. We get to use them at least with an ease of mind, knowing they are clean and they smell nice. For dust, my nose and skin are happier knowing that the surfaces are of less dust even for just a day. I sneeze less and I lessen my allergies wherever possible. I strive to have a better life for myself and I will make effort to make that happen, and we all should. In things I no longer find a point of doing, I stop doing basically, in time.