Pacing Into 20

The sedentary lifestyle coupled with plenty of sleep (though not necessarily quality sleep) and hours of idleness allows for some deep toiling over the matter of life. In less than a year I will be 20. The difference between 19 and 20 is much more significant than between 18 and 19 or even 17 to 18 (the legal age when you can consume alcohol; though they generally don't make a fuss nowadays). For example, you tell a really hot lady you're 20, and she has 50% of taking a second glance at you and perhaps continue with the conversation. Tell her you're 19, she will pretend not to listen and walk away looking upwards.
I was telling Beng Hong in our casual MSN chat the other day how I am becoming the typical boring adult male. Like any other adult, burdened by responsibilities and 'you should', I have no temptation in pursuing the uncertain anymore. I cannot allow more unknowns in my life - I have to get to the bottom of everything, without wasting time. In short, by growing up, I have lost the potential to look for joys in things unknown. I have to have information on every single thing before deciding - from how many seats the bus have to whether the internet kiosk has a printer, and whether the discount ticket I bought is mileage-creditable, I have to have an answer. Horribly, this is becoming more and more like Mum.
Pacing into 20, I am more and more confident of my own self (it's actually another way of saying I'm more degil and hard-headed now). I have my own principles and I do not allow others to challenge my opinions that easily. I loathe change, especially anything dubbed 'modern' - modern art, modern literature, modern language. My definition of modern clothing is stagnant at plain blue jeans with no extra embroideries or prints, and modern furniture being at most the Ikea types. I think it's slowly becoming a truth - I am starting to get out-of-date. Browsing for Chinese New Year clothing the other day, I notice it's more and more difficult looking for what I had in mind compared to a few years back. My favorite brands are now becoming 'common' - their huge tendency to use bright pestle colors, rugged design as if to give it a 'this is not a new piece of clothing'-feel. And I did found something I like eventually, but it's 3 to 4 times what I had to pay for 2 to 3 years back.
I am metamorphosing into the mundane and average urban male - I commute to university, stay there from 8 to 5 (occasionally only till 12 or 3), come home, hang around, go online, go for dinner, and then work (study) till bedtime. I travel twice every year, going home for the holidays. I have nothing to look forward to in life (perhaps graduating is something?). I earn and collect frequent flier miles, credit card reward points, member points etc etc but never seem to be on track to redeem something I really like. I read the news though it never occurred to me how I would be affected if Obama or Clinton or Edwards won (I'm more interested in which aircraft MAS would buy to replace their 737s though, MAS said they would announce by January). I go online everyday only to find every page I visited yesterday is still the same today. And Mum and Dad had slowly turned into creatures from another planet I can hardly communicate with them.
What is the purpose of life? This is a question constantly popping up under these circumstances. It's something like you throw a stone forwards, race towards it, pick it up, and throw it forwards again. That action drives you forward, but what are you running into? A better life? Or something you only dared to dream since childhood?
These days surprises don't surprise me anymore - most of the time I just smile to get over it. Frustration and anger get hold of me very often but I always think of it as some tidal wave - it'll soon be over. Happiness is only there when I seek it hard enough, and only when chances permits - a beautiful day, the car not breaking down, no Mum and Dad to call you every hour (even in the cinema), no stupid road geniuses overtaking you and you brake so hard you almost flew away, no AirAsia customer service calling to ask you if you wanted to buy the 'flight insurance' at RM2, and no television showing crappy programs cheating your time. Why has happiness become such a luxury? This is something to ponder upon.