Is it really so difficult?
「あの さ, ハチ…… I still believe that life is what we make of it.
だけど…… lately I realized that people cannot be that strong sometimes.
I am kinder than back then.」- 大崎ナナ
There is a quality to these words. It gives me pause and forces me to consider the way in which I treat those around me. I'm of the sort that is judgemental of my acquantances and critical to my friends. I'm unforgiving and hard on them when they make harmful decisions based entirely on emotive thought. I've watched them be irresponsible, inconsiderate and ultimately blind to a future that is hurtling towards them quicker than they now have capacity to comprehend or handle. They've sought to justify their actions as being their only recourse, citing circumstance as their cruel jailer.
L'homme est d'abord ce qui se jette vers un avenir, et ce qui est conscient de se projeter dans l'avenir, wrote Jean-Paul Sartre, "Man is, before all else, something which propels itself toward a future and is aware that it is doing so." I believe those words. I've believed in them for much longer than I've known their patron philosopher and I doubt there will come a time in my life when I will stop believing them. There have been many difficult choices along the way and plenty of opportunity to simply roll over and blame fate for my misfortunes, turning useless and uninspired in my impotent anger. I could have become those friends of mine I wonder about daily -- how they live with themselves, with the bad choices they've made and the dead-end paved before them. I could have been so weak as to have given up long ago, but still I haven't.
What is it, then, that defines me as different from them? What keeps these friends of mine locked in the prisons of their own choosing? Questionable relationships, deliberately uselessness, the inability to live independantly. They repeatedly come to me for help when the illusion cracks and they realize their trap, and I give them what advice I can. I chart for them a course away from their pitfall, but climbing out of the gutter is no easy task. Midway through the conversation they revert to their cowardly selves and begin to outline the various reasons why they couldn't possibly follow the advice I've given them time and again. They wonder at why they have no money when they make no effort to make a budget and continue their frivolous expenditures. They beg me to answer why they are in trouble when I repeatedly told them to deal with the issue for months beforehand, and then have the audacity to say I should have given them forewarning.
I did. Repeatedly. Over and over. Eventually I'm going to grow bored with what I have to say, with how often I have to say it. I have some I know that have achieved that level of worthlessness; I cringe to use the word 'friend' for those so spineless as to not recognize their own failings and clamber out. To make their lives better.
Again, what makes me different? What makes me stronger than they are? A recent episode of House postulated that people outside of the normal social strata are inured to criticism, ridicule and prejudice, and thus are forged stronger from the experiance. A Neitzschean prospect; I myself grew up in the crucible of being different. My parents were duplicious and unsupportive until long after my formative years had past. To an extent they remain that way now, though I see them very little. Belonging is still an alien concept to me, and I deal with it very badly. Has being different given me the strength necessary to pick myself up constantly? To do the difficult tasks when I need to and to find the strength with which to wake in the morning?
Even if it has, here is what bothers me: I'm not that strong. I'm as human as anybody else. I have my own emotional rollercoaster to deal with and I am not always 100% certain of the actions I undertake. I know when I screw up, and I lie about it sometimes to save face. Sometimes the lies become a truth, other times I keep them hidden in vaults of secret shame. I quail at these memories each night and I remember my weakest, most vunerable moments as though they had just happened. 間々、私は泣く。
I'm not a Pillar of Hercules. I'm not Gibraltar. My motto can never be Nulli Expugnabilis Hosti.
So... why?
Why am I different if I'm not special? Not stronger. Why can't I let myself forgive their weakness? I want to.
I was kinder once, but not any more.
Happy Hanukkah.
だけど…… lately I realized that people cannot be that strong sometimes.
I am kinder than back then.」- 大崎ナナ
There is a quality to these words. It gives me pause and forces me to consider the way in which I treat those around me. I'm of the sort that is judgemental of my acquantances and critical to my friends. I'm unforgiving and hard on them when they make harmful decisions based entirely on emotive thought. I've watched them be irresponsible, inconsiderate and ultimately blind to a future that is hurtling towards them quicker than they now have capacity to comprehend or handle. They've sought to justify their actions as being their only recourse, citing circumstance as their cruel jailer.
L'homme est d'abord ce qui se jette vers un avenir, et ce qui est conscient de se projeter dans l'avenir, wrote Jean-Paul Sartre, "Man is, before all else, something which propels itself toward a future and is aware that it is doing so." I believe those words. I've believed in them for much longer than I've known their patron philosopher and I doubt there will come a time in my life when I will stop believing them. There have been many difficult choices along the way and plenty of opportunity to simply roll over and blame fate for my misfortunes, turning useless and uninspired in my impotent anger. I could have become those friends of mine I wonder about daily -- how they live with themselves, with the bad choices they've made and the dead-end paved before them. I could have been so weak as to have given up long ago, but still I haven't.
What is it, then, that defines me as different from them? What keeps these friends of mine locked in the prisons of their own choosing? Questionable relationships, deliberately uselessness, the inability to live independantly. They repeatedly come to me for help when the illusion cracks and they realize their trap, and I give them what advice I can. I chart for them a course away from their pitfall, but climbing out of the gutter is no easy task. Midway through the conversation they revert to their cowardly selves and begin to outline the various reasons why they couldn't possibly follow the advice I've given them time and again. They wonder at why they have no money when they make no effort to make a budget and continue their frivolous expenditures. They beg me to answer why they are in trouble when I repeatedly told them to deal with the issue for months beforehand, and then have the audacity to say I should have given them forewarning.
I did. Repeatedly. Over and over. Eventually I'm going to grow bored with what I have to say, with how often I have to say it. I have some I know that have achieved that level of worthlessness; I cringe to use the word 'friend' for those so spineless as to not recognize their own failings and clamber out. To make their lives better.
Again, what makes me different? What makes me stronger than they are? A recent episode of House postulated that people outside of the normal social strata are inured to criticism, ridicule and prejudice, and thus are forged stronger from the experiance. A Neitzschean prospect; I myself grew up in the crucible of being different. My parents were duplicious and unsupportive until long after my formative years had past. To an extent they remain that way now, though I see them very little. Belonging is still an alien concept to me, and I deal with it very badly. Has being different given me the strength necessary to pick myself up constantly? To do the difficult tasks when I need to and to find the strength with which to wake in the morning?
Even if it has, here is what bothers me: I'm not that strong. I'm as human as anybody else. I have my own emotional rollercoaster to deal with and I am not always 100% certain of the actions I undertake. I know when I screw up, and I lie about it sometimes to save face. Sometimes the lies become a truth, other times I keep them hidden in vaults of secret shame. I quail at these memories each night and I remember my weakest, most vunerable moments as though they had just happened. 間々、私は泣く。
I'm not a Pillar of Hercules. I'm not Gibraltar. My motto can never be Nulli Expugnabilis Hosti.
So... why?
Why am I different if I'm not special? Not stronger. Why can't I let myself forgive their weakness? I want to.
I was kinder once, but not any more.
Happy Hanukkah.