These thoughts are incomplete, but they always will be.
//
Main:
The older I get, the less time I spend happy.
This is not a complaint, merely an observation. It would also be fair to say that I spend less time being unhappy and far more time being adequately satisfied. It's not a bad thing and, rationally speaking, it's almost certainly a good thing as a reduction in a negative field almost always yields a net positive in terms of life.
When I was younger (read: a meager four years ago), I did my best to fully embrace the "live for the moment" idealism that's so easy to embrace as long as you're not in a position to be paying rent. Now, I find myself seeking things because they're practical. Most of the knowledge I accumulate can immediately be applied to improving the efficiency of some part of my life. This is the cost of adequate satisfaction; you become a drone. This is complaint.
Responsibility, it seems, is the driving force in squelching happiness1. Not that it prevents you from having the flights of fancy that you so once enjoyed, it merely prevents you from pursuing them. Ergo, monotony and routine. That's settling. And settling, my friends, means accepting less than you could.
The pursuit of perfection should never be cheapened by settling. Ever. Of course perfection can't be achieved. Of course your life could always be better than it is. For that reason, it's senseless to live your life ten years in the future because ten years from now isn't some capstone on your life that you can just settle into and enjoy for the rest of your years.
The pursuit of perfection is happening right now in this very moment. I guess we'll see how I fare.
Auxiliary:
On the brighter side of things, in the last year, I've watched at least eight relationships that I had faith in collapse, implode, or otherwise become defunct and, for all intents and purposes, nonexistent. This has not only made several of my friendships very awkward, but also amused me at the tendency of some of my friends' ex-girlfriends to get knocked up shortly after leaving them.
I've also seen many of my old friends become parents; for better or worse is yet to be determined2.
All of this has done little to curb my cynicism for my own relationships. The longest relationship I had lasted somewhere between two and half to three years. On average, my relationships tend to last about a year. I'm told that this is actually a fairly remarkable record as most relationships collapse within the first few months.
It feels somewhat less than remarkable to me considering that, at a meager twenty two years of age, one year is less than five percent of my life. Given this, is it possible to truly love someone in this span of time, fully believing that you're going to spend the rest of your life with them? I would have to say the answer is "no." Given that I'm only likely to spend a year with someone, that person is only going to have impacted five percent of my life, with this figure dwindling further as each year progresses. This forces me to conclude that there is no "love" to be shared, merely a delusion of extended affection or a prolonged infatuation. Or, in the worst possible case scenario, a feeling of responsibility to the other individual.
Love, as I've always understood it, is supposed to be 1) born of joy, 2) long lasting (with "true" love being lifelong), and 3) complicated yet simple. Excepting that points 1 and 3 somewhat contradict each other, I'm curious as to how points 1 and 2 can ever coexist considering that joy tends to be instantaneous, a gratification of something deeply desired (which of course, after its been achieved, can never be regained), and "long lasting" tends to, as one might expect, possess a slightly longer duration.
A curious and irrational thing to defy such veracity, but such is poetry.
Quotes:
"Wisdom is knowing when you can't be wise."
-Paul Engle
"First thoughts are not always the best."
-Vittorio Alfieri
"Small opportunities are often the beginning of great enterprises."
-Demosthenes
1:
This is, I think, why business majors are so professionally successful; they've given up on being happy with anything but "success."
2:
For the most part, that is. In some instances, it's already been determined. Permanently.
Main:
The older I get, the less time I spend happy.
This is not a complaint, merely an observation. It would also be fair to say that I spend less time being unhappy and far more time being adequately satisfied. It's not a bad thing and, rationally speaking, it's almost certainly a good thing as a reduction in a negative field almost always yields a net positive in terms of life.
When I was younger (read: a meager four years ago), I did my best to fully embrace the "live for the moment" idealism that's so easy to embrace as long as you're not in a position to be paying rent. Now, I find myself seeking things because they're practical. Most of the knowledge I accumulate can immediately be applied to improving the efficiency of some part of my life. This is the cost of adequate satisfaction; you become a drone. This is complaint.
Responsibility, it seems, is the driving force in squelching happiness1. Not that it prevents you from having the flights of fancy that you so once enjoyed, it merely prevents you from pursuing them. Ergo, monotony and routine. That's settling. And settling, my friends, means accepting less than you could.
The pursuit of perfection should never be cheapened by settling. Ever. Of course perfection can't be achieved. Of course your life could always be better than it is. For that reason, it's senseless to live your life ten years in the future because ten years from now isn't some capstone on your life that you can just settle into and enjoy for the rest of your years.
The pursuit of perfection is happening right now in this very moment. I guess we'll see how I fare.
Auxiliary:
On the brighter side of things, in the last year, I've watched at least eight relationships that I had faith in collapse, implode, or otherwise become defunct and, for all intents and purposes, nonexistent. This has not only made several of my friendships very awkward, but also amused me at the tendency of some of my friends' ex-girlfriends to get knocked up shortly after leaving them.
I've also seen many of my old friends become parents; for better or worse is yet to be determined2.
All of this has done little to curb my cynicism for my own relationships. The longest relationship I had lasted somewhere between two and half to three years. On average, my relationships tend to last about a year. I'm told that this is actually a fairly remarkable record as most relationships collapse within the first few months.
It feels somewhat less than remarkable to me considering that, at a meager twenty two years of age, one year is less than five percent of my life. Given this, is it possible to truly love someone in this span of time, fully believing that you're going to spend the rest of your life with them? I would have to say the answer is "no." Given that I'm only likely to spend a year with someone, that person is only going to have impacted five percent of my life, with this figure dwindling further as each year progresses. This forces me to conclude that there is no "love" to be shared, merely a delusion of extended affection or a prolonged infatuation. Or, in the worst possible case scenario, a feeling of responsibility to the other individual.
Love, as I've always understood it, is supposed to be 1) born of joy, 2) long lasting (with "true" love being lifelong), and 3) complicated yet simple. Excepting that points 1 and 3 somewhat contradict each other, I'm curious as to how points 1 and 2 can ever coexist considering that joy tends to be instantaneous, a gratification of something deeply desired (which of course, after its been achieved, can never be regained), and "long lasting" tends to, as one might expect, possess a slightly longer duration.
A curious and irrational thing to defy such veracity, but such is poetry.
Quotes:
"Wisdom is knowing when you can't be wise."
-Paul Engle
"First thoughts are not always the best."
-Vittorio Alfieri
"Small opportunities are often the beginning of great enterprises."
-Demosthenes
1:
This is, I think, why business majors are so professionally successful; they've given up on being happy with anything but "success."
2:
For the most part, that is. In some instances, it's already been determined. Permanently.