Friday, April 13, 2012

Note to Self

Growing up as an only child has often compelled me to write notes to myself. Here's a note that borders on the verbose. I wrote it a couple of months ago, and I assume that I wrote it at 3 in the morning on a glorious day in Ithaca.

Dear Self,

There is nothing to be done. Haters will hate and parents will be parents. Bigots will not change, and the world is too large, too magnificent and beautifully imperfect. Change is constant, but it unfolds at snail pace. In your lifetime, you will want to mould certain aspects of time in a way that seems to fit your purpose. Your purpose, unfortunately, is rather open ended. Time will wrap itself around you and hold you to ransom if you allow it to. Remember, as living creatures, we're inexplicably timeless. Life is a lot more bearable if you look this timelessness squarely in the eye and make peace with it. Life is not intended to be a sequence of milestones with defined boundaries. It really is a blur. It is rather vague; incomprehensible actually. The breakdown of reason and intellect is inevitable. So is the loss of faith and endurance. It is true that nothing is necessarily written, but our destinies are sadly limited by the extent of our longevity.

When this realization sinks in, remember to laugh , to dance, to sing, to scream, and to stretch your limbs and being till they can no longer be contained. You can only yield when you've pushed the limits of resistance. In this, you will find overwhelming peace and well deserved comfort. Hold high that head, and grit those teeth; but at the same time, keep those fists 'unclenched' and those toes warm.

The self,
From without,

1. This is reproduced exactly as it was written, right down to the grammar and punctuation.
2. It seemed so compelling and phenomenal when I wrote it. Now it sounds like a generic passage from a generic self help book.
3. Ithaca can get really cold, keeping one's toes warm is of utmost importance.
4. With this post I do concede, that although I am a fence-sitting agnostic, I often pledge my allegiance to 'His holy noodliness', 'The Flying Spaghetti Monster'. I am secretly(not so secretly anymore) a boiled again 'Pastafarian'. Ramen!

1 comment:

Edd Story Writer said...

Indeed, you have a fatal look on things. Try to cheer up.