There appears to be some correlation between fear and misunderstanding. People on a whole tend to fear the things that they cannot interpret. It starts arguments, fights, even wars, this little thing called fear, and why? Because none of us understand one another; not really or truly. I've just watched the film Southland Tales, and reading some of the responses to the film it's the self-same scenario that those who watch fear what they don't understand, and those who fear retaliate. It would be a delight for the entire world to open up its collective mind and choke down the elements of existence that are beyond its understanding; would war remain? Would hate or pain be as punctual? There will always be aggression, but aggression with sheer purpose is passion. Aggression as an act of misunderstanding is pointless.
She seems interested only in grief. In holding onto bad memories and then unleashing their effect upon the world at the most random and unforeseen times in the future. There are no solutions to her problems; only the resolve that leads to her own happiness. Compromise is not a factor in contention here, as that nullifies the previous sentence. Don't think, don't feel, just say the words that make her happy. Maybe I don't want to do that, though. Maybe a little give and take is all I'm looking for. Nope. In that case, I've lost already.
I don't mind them asking us to enter random assortments of numbers and letters, but this is crazy...
Don't ask me why, but I found this rather funny.
Somedays I grow tired of the tedium that life arches you into. There's this sense of participation that I just seem to find overwhelmingly bothersome on occasional days, almost like playing a game. Life throws you into this cycle of want and need, and work and success, and it just gets you down some times. When you take a self-reflective few minutes, and just step back out of your own skin to see the shape the world is carving you out of you just wish you could be less dependent on the things that control you. I sit in this room, a television on that I'm not even watching, and XBOXs, IPods, cell phones, littering this space I call home, and part of me longs to be content for it all to go. Part of me wishes I could find comfort in less than this. Part of me wishes that I wasn't tied down to work to support all of these products I convince myself are a requirement for living.
Newcastle failed to seal the deal this evening, but it was in someone elses graveyard, so a draw is a decent result. I had a good night with a significant other, and that makes four straight days now of decency. Ever since our celebration of the past year things have looked up; I think things might be okay as long as we're learning to be more adult than our stupidity and so-called pride lets us be.
Apparently it's true. I've been doing it quite a bit lately, and to my own surprise, I've been doing so willingly! I don't know where this vigor for work has come from, but it's entered my life like a surprising stranger, so it has. By this I mean the kind of stranger that perhaps professes, as if by random, a fondness for every single album and film you live for. As opposed to a stranger who, perhaps, urinates on your shoes and then giggles at his or her own genitalia. That's not the kind of stranger I ever want to meet again... !
