Damn it all, I don't want to be interesting.
En hiver, je veux croire en la bienveillance d'humanité.
Je suppose qu'il n'existe pas tout le temps,
mais on peut espérer.
I am reading Of Human Bondage for my comparison essay, and I love it. I am engrossed by the main character, Philip, and his process of growing up. The problem is that Philip is so like myself that I am afraid to read on, and discover where the book takes him. I am struck by how often I read a passage, and recollect the exact same moment in my life, by how often Philip expresses an emotion that I thought I felt exclusively. It's reassuring, and discomforting at the same time. Philip is not always an appealing character. He seems compelled to follow the destructive path even though he sees and understands the better one.
I don't know how to feel as the holidays approach. I'm not content with myself, or at least the way I perceive things. I consistently hope for kindness and goodwill for all people, yet harbor ideologies that seem to contradict the very idea of humanitarianism. My rationalism refutes squarely my wish to enjoy life without the hindrance of analysis. I wish I could simply live my life without regard to weighing right and wrong. I wish I could always act and believe as I please. But I cannot believe and act without trying to weigh the merits and pitfalls of each option. I am simultaneously a mathematician and a hedonist.
There has to be a middle ground, but like positives and negatives, I don't know if I can combine the two without being left with nothing.