From Woman's Weekly, July 6th 1918.
IS LIFE WORTH LIVING?
A Word to the Girl Who is Discontented and Sighs for Pre-War Gaieties.
“LIFE is not worth living these days” sighed the girl as she pulled the sheet of paper out of her typewriter with an angry flip. “There is never anything doing. The same old round, day in day out. Up at seven, a hurried breakfast, and a scramble for a 'bus, working at the same old typewriter until five o'clock, another scramble for a 'bus home, a war-time meal, a dull evening—nothing to do, then bed, with the same old routine over again to-morrow, just to earn a living. Is it worth it?”
She glanced angrily round the room at the other girls. Some of them looked at her sympathetically, and the girl next her joined in. “It must end some time! If I thought this state of affairs was to continue I couldn't stand it. You can't afford to have any enjoyment these days. It takes all my money to feed myself. I can't even afford the gallery or a theatre now they charge an entertainment tax!”
At that moment a girl entered the room from the inner office, where she had been taking letters. for the senior partner. She came in smiling, walked quickly to her machine, and began to rattle off her work. Her energy irritated the discontented girl, and after a few minutes’ silence she listlessly screwed another sheet of paper into her machine, and the monotonous click-clack was again heard in the room.
ONE GIRL'S PLEASURE.
A FEW days later the discontented girl and her energetic colleague found themselves at the same table in a small tea-shop during lunch time. Once more the grievance of the girl who found life dull and uninteresting was poured out, this time into the ear of the other girl.
“Don't you find the same old routine of the office and no fun too awful?” she asked. “Don't you feel sick of not being able to afford any p1easure, and wonder why—.”
The other girl looked at her curiously.
“Why, no!” she answered. “I hadn’t thought about it that way. Of course there are not the same kind of enjoyments to be had as before the war, but we didn't appreciate those times so much when we had them, did we? I believe in making the most of the present time. You see, I like office work. I used to be at home before the war, but I like being out and about much better. There are so many interesting people to meet, and after hours — there's always that time.”
“But what can you do?” asked the girl discontentedly. “What do you do?”
HER WEEKLY PROGRAMME.
“ONE night a week I help in a YMCA Hut. I've met a nice lot of people there, and although it's a bit tiring, you do feel you are doing important work. It's great fun. Then I like reading—I belong to a free library, and I make my own clothes. I get a lot of fun looking in the smart shops and copying a little idea at home. I like looking my best, don't you?”
“What for?” asked the discontented girl. “Who is there to see you these days? There's nowhere to go.”
“Oh yes,” answered the girl. “I go for long walks during the week-end. Sometimes to a hospital, to take magazines I collect from my friends, and the parks are free. Then I have two lonely soldiers to write to, and tell them all the happenings of the day. I make a little diary, and send it once a week. I work hard, then I play hard. I don't give myself a chance to think much, and the time just flies.”
The discontented girl wondered if she was missing her share because she wouldn't take what came her way, but just pined for pre-war times.
For that is the secret of making life worth living—enjoy it—enjoy it in places, a bit here, a bit there.
HER HOLIDAY.
“WHERE are you spending your holidays?” asked the beginning - to - be - interested girl. “Fares have gone up and rooms outside the air-raid zone are prohibitive in price—but perhaps you have relatives?”
“No,” answered the girl, “I don't believe in spending holidays with relatives —not that I don't love them,” she added; “but you can't do what you want to do. You feel you ought to study them a bit, and if they arrange a picnic you have to go when perhaps you'd just love a lazy day with a book. No; I've thought it all out, and I'm not going away. I am going to have a real holiday at home. There are dozens of places I've never seen round the neighbourhood—historical places, museums, and picture galleries, and I can reach the country when I want to on the top of a 'bus. I shall go to one or two matinees and picture shows, and when I feel like it I shall call and see a friend. I shall get up when I like and go to bed when I like. I am going to really enjoy myself, so that at the end of my holiday even work will be a change.
“I have one or two commissions for fancy work, which I shall do when I feel like it—embroidered collars and fancy bags, and the money I get for these will pay my 'bus fares and odd expenses, so my holiday will cost me hardly anything. I get quite a lot of orders. So you see there is a double reason for making pretty trifles for myself.”
The girl who thinks herself unfortunate because in these days her life seems all work should take notice of this little girl's philosophy. Take life as it comes and be thankful for its blessings.
For remember it is a psychological fact as well as a Biblical one that to him that hath shall be given. In other words, the more you make of what you have the more will it increase.
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