Life is a symphony. Many movements, numerous motives and plethora of instruments. Alas there is no conductor. Everything can be in tune, all instruments can be playing in tandem and yet the audience might not hear the masterpiece the composer intended.
"Is it my birthday or am I dying?" - Nancy Astor on her death bed
I have heard of people reduced ...
to a seven character id on the messenger...
to a last name on the class registration sheet...
to a photo in an album...
to the memory of a passionate kiss in the romantic teenager's mind...
to two engraved words on the cover of a book.
and yet it always seems hypocritical to me to be an item on a diary. To be congratulated for your existence while all you are to the people expressing their pleasure is a name and a date on a piece of paper that is reviewed in the mundaneness of day-to-day life.
"There are only four questions of value in life, Don Octavio. What is sacred? Of what is the spirit made? What is worth living for, and what is worth dying for?" -Don Juan
"The only rules that really matter are these: what a man can do and what a man can't do." - Capt. Jack Sparrow
Interesting how life can be summarised in sentences. And yet the search for the meaning takes years and years. Some can never find a solution. Not even with good coffee and blueberry muffins.
I have definitely been waiting for a long long time. I am starting to think that I might have missed it. What is one to do? Go and search back or look forward to another one? I think I will watch a Marilyn Monroe flick instead.
Why does one get disappointed?
The sad truth is that every single day, what is expected happens rather than what is hoped for. And yet, you keep on hoping and you keep on getting disappointed.
Is hope really the quintessential fault of the human kind?
A wise person once told me: "Do not worry if you go to a lecture and the lecturer does not know a lot. You are going to learn what he DOES know". Why is it then that many people focus on the negative to make themselves feel better? Especially those who have had the fortune to rise against the norm of their backgrounds. Namely immigrants and webloggers who are always bashing eachother, pointing out the mistakes and stupidity of their peers. There must be a better way.
When in doubt, the mind takes the easiest path. It is only through shear effort and application of significant will power that one can take a path less travelled. Most great men did. Generating will, a mental state itself, however requires forgoing the easy way for the harder alternative and as such can never be expected to materialise. How should one explain the existence of great men?