My Comfort Zone

I’m in a meeting. I can’t pick calls you know, it would be rude to the person making his point and indeed the rest of the participants. The issue at hand is the all-important issue of how a lorry winded up at a destination thirty minutes early twelve months ago. This was in a civic education drive in the same year. The details have been blurred out in everybody’s memory hence the heated and winded argument. Not that I care, I did even think it economically wise to use my time to queue at a polling station just to vote in people you’ve never met. I’m not just that passionate about politics at a personal level anyway. If you ask me, In Kenya it’s more like religion; good to keep to oneself.

It is therefore very unfortunate that I have to cut down on my playtime on a Saturday to discuss issues that are particularly inconsequential in my estimation. I’m feeling out of place, left out in the mindless nattering and passionate speeches that ensue. I’m not comfortable but then again it’s my job to stay around and pretend to be “privileged to be here”.

Then my mind wanders to the many people who might be going through my fake “privileged to be here situation”. What of those who are here too often-wake up in the wrong place, spend the day doing things you don’t like? I try to figure out what you would call them-unlucky, unsuccessful, unhappy, probably a sad adjective. Something I don’t want for myself.  I want to be at the place I like-where I meet my kind of stuff, my niche.  It is that place in my imaginations where my species thrive.

Badly, the reality is I rarely get to my perfect habitat. I have to, most of the time, deal with unsavory people, do unpleasant tasks or do something at a time when it doesn’t feel right.  This situation can be very frustrating. The more of these experiences I get, the more I feel like I haven’t succeeded in life; or positively put, I get a lot happier by doing something different. That’s why I have never really understood the old cliche “get out of your comfort zone”.

Why I’m I supposed to move away from a zone that makes me comfortable? In fact, I have this feeling that the day I stop hoping to reach a comfort zone is the day I drop dead.

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