I have become that which I hated: a person who has so little meaning in her life that she needs the bloody TV always on or something going on to distract her from the very shallowness of existance. The sort of person who must be surrounded by people to alleviate her own intrinsic loneliness.

That being said, it's sunday again. I never could get the hang of sundays. A day of rest just doesn't appeal to me anymore. I find myself bored out of my mind, with a million potential things to do but no drive to do any of them. In theory, sunday sounds great, in practice, sunday is a depressing day with nothing to do which will end on an introspective note, which is never good.

Valentine's day has come and gone. On said day, the MBA students at my university had some sort of function going on involving carnations and music with horrible "although we are far apart/ you're always in my heart/ you make me feel so high/ I feel like I could fly" sort of lyrics. Watching the MBA lot, dressed up in red and spreading the festivity, I realized that even if I could fake a smile and be increasingly peppy and active in such events for my own inevitable MBA "projects", did I really want to be? Which is when I started actually looking into Indus Valley as an option. Yeah, I know, I change my mind more than I change my clothes, but then I've never had a set path I want to follow. So now I'm looking into liberal arts degrees for my masters.

And so begins another depressing sunday.