There were so much death and devastation this year that I almost wanted to name this the year of destruction. However, on a personal level the only thing that affected me out of all these deaths are that of my aunt and Steve Jobs. So, the decision was easily made. I also shed tears twice this year, both times for the long term farewell of families. I don’t cry. Crying is the attempted denial of what’s about to happen by calling for attention. Shedding tears is the acceptance of the pain. I don’t cry anymore.
There are two concepts that I learned and am actively incorporating into my awareness this year. One is the acceptance that “To draw the perfect painting, become a perfect person first”. Who I am 80% of the time will affect what I do for the 20% of the time. And two, our values are dictated by our mythos, which is the result of the interaction between us and things of quality in our environment. As such, each culture interpret the mythos differently. From a white man’s perspective, Judaism’s mythos is that of the word being their life, India’s mythos is that of the complete opposite while, the one that concerns me, the Asian mythos is the oneness of subject-object. This is a concept that I have not understood yet, because I have not been able to see the difference yet.
We sat down and talked.
About regrets of making the wrong choice. Of the opportunities lost because we were still immature back then. The best we can do in life, is to prepare and position ourselves when the opportunities arrive. Take it when it comes. You can’t always do that, there’s also the problem of timing.
She told me that she finally woke up one day to see this person right in front of her and she’s missed her opportunity. I told her that it’s true. The moment was gone. The person probably waited for her hoping for her to grow up. Until he met someone who’s already grown up. He then stopped waiting.
I no longer desire games (the addiction of hoarding is gone) and I no longer feel shame in spending the weekend gaming. Second hand smoke used to choke my nostril into a physical rejection of the substance. Now, I breathe it in lustfully, enjoying the strong stingy smell of burnt grass.
I used to enjoy a good philosophical debate. Or beating a person’s own arguments with twisted reason, but these are insignificant now. Complains that usually clutter my thinking disappeared like smoke. I also don’t feel like I am doing anything wrong. Mostly because the intentions are all based off of the good, or as good as my intention can be.
Time flies by. An indication that I am not bored at all but I wish it can slow down a bit. There are so much that I want to do.
I have finally begun to see me as who I am. Acknowledging that I will probably never be able to experience certain things in life. The fantasy of what I can do is met by the reality of what my situation is. It’s just life and it’s unfair. This is what I have and there’s a limit to what one life time can achieve.