Snowing again.

Grey sky, grey tress, white fence, white snow.

I watched out the window, snow dancing madly in the air, busy about falling. What's the rush? You will fall, you will hit the ground, you stay there for a while, and you disappear again. Such is life, birth, live, and dealth claim it all.

With the glass panel on the window, I feel isolated from the outward world. I am in my own enclosed world, like a silkwarm in its little cocoon. I shalll get out more, some friend may say, but out to where? I pity the time wasted on the journey, and what is so worthy of my time than spending time alone here? Of course it gets bored, crazily boring as it can be, but then there is always so much on the "to do" list. Listen to this CD, read that book, clean the dishes, do the laundry, fold up the clothe, make the bed, make that phone call....

I am not working, but the work one can do at home can go on and on amazingly long. But, I am not being paid. No one is paying me, that means I have no income. Oh, what a joy it is to have income, to have the financial freedom to dispose money as one wishes. Yet there is one thing positive about been pennyless, you learn to live with less. It reduces your ever rising desires when you have no matching means to chase it up. You learn the simplicity of living with less.

Eating, cooking, cleaning, all seemed such a waste of time. And how I hated it, when I have to standing there longer than half an hour, with tap open, water running, cleaning the dishes. That is when I get the motivation to work for a paid job, insteand of being a house wife.

Take away all the non-essentials, then the truth becomes barren. You just have bear with the unpleasant circumstance a while longer. I knew I will learn French one day, the strange running noise will run out from my mouths too, and make perfect sense to others. And people even become amazed to learn, I taught myself French in, say 6 months. But before that happens, it is this long, painful, annoying dragging on hours of repeat and repeat, tuning my ears to the wierd sound of French tongue. I am talented in language, given the way I learned English, but French is requiring more than talent, it requires patience, fortitude, and resilence.

People who work, and get paid for it, have a feeling of self-worth. If you are being paid a lot of money, then you have a reason to believe you must be good at it, and if you are paid more than most of your peers, that means you must be better than most of them. It is like playing soccer in a team, the top players get paid more. It seems to be true everywhere, if not so at the beginning, the situation will soon correct itself.

So where is the value of a housewife? Who has no peers, unless her husband is a middle eastern, who does have many legal wives. And a wife doesn't get paid, so how does she feel her value? Has she been valued for her work? Or under valued? Like some of these you secretively called "losers" ? A wife, is feeling her value through the attitude she is being treated by her husband. If he recognize her value, and appreciate her work, he would respect her, treatly her kindly and gently, and lovingly. He will never address himself proudly as the "bread-winner", but humbly saying" we are just doing different things."

Society is an ocean, and we are all canons floating upon it, or sinking, like some people do. We anchor our direction with becons, and then it is better to find items that is eternally right, like North is north, than using your neighbour Jones as a direction, for then you'll get lose fast.

Snow is falling, helplessly, irriversibly. And watching them falling through the glass window panel, I meditated, upon life.

Another snow day, in Canada Montreal. And I am here, in my rented house, living through another snow day.