With 30 approaching me with rapid speed my life has suddenly become more confusing than it ever was. well, ok, it is in one way the same and yet in other ways different.
I am beginning to become my old self after being a recluse for almost a decade. okay, not a decade but for at least half of it. But its a constant tug of war now, my recluse self holding a strong grip on me, whilst my old, not particularly extroverted but a more sociable self, raising its not so ugly head every now and then. But then again it could just be the time of the year when everyone is jolly. You want to seek the warmth from any and every quarter considering the weather is not so. Infact is quite the contrary.
I am beginning to lose my old idealistic self, the self that believes in ideals that aren't particularly utilitarian (well, thats why they are called ideals aren't they?) nor necessarily idealistic enough to hold on to. But curiously I am finding that the 'ugly' practical self is not so non idealistic afterall. I mean did any one ever say they have to be mutually exclusive.
I am beginning to see my age in others. When i think of myself in isolation i don't feel 30. I don't feel 20 or 10 or 50. I just don't feel any age. But when I see these 20 somethings at work and here and there and the 30 somethings and the 50 somethings, I begin to see my age. I really do. I feel young, younger, old and older. Not necessarily in any particular pattern. But even so, in as much as age is a matter of mind, age belongs to a generation as well.
I am also beginning to see the futility in certain things I sought. say for instance, search for passion, as i'd liked to call it. That, that is the biggest farce, is my current opinion. There is no such thing as passion. If you choose it to be, anything can be your 'passion' and if you don't nothing will ever be. I never thought my work would ever be my passion, but the last year it has been. It may not be this year and I don't particularly want it to be, but it was truly satisfying to know that passion is what you work for, not what makes you work. To know that there is nothing special waiting for you to chance upon, nothing that you were meant to do specially is for me a difficult thing to deal with. To understand this is liberating yet extremely painful. Well, 2010 maybe different. I might in a couple of months start looking for my passion, but hell, I can only think what I think now!
(Written in 2010 posted in 2017, don't know why!)
I am beginning to become my old self after being a recluse for almost a decade. okay, not a decade but for at least half of it. But its a constant tug of war now, my recluse self holding a strong grip on me, whilst my old, not particularly extroverted but a more sociable self, raising its not so ugly head every now and then. But then again it could just be the time of the year when everyone is jolly. You want to seek the warmth from any and every quarter considering the weather is not so. Infact is quite the contrary.
I am beginning to lose my old idealistic self, the self that believes in ideals that aren't particularly utilitarian (well, thats why they are called ideals aren't they?) nor necessarily idealistic enough to hold on to. But curiously I am finding that the 'ugly' practical self is not so non idealistic afterall. I mean did any one ever say they have to be mutually exclusive.
I am beginning to see my age in others. When i think of myself in isolation i don't feel 30. I don't feel 20 or 10 or 50. I just don't feel any age. But when I see these 20 somethings at work and here and there and the 30 somethings and the 50 somethings, I begin to see my age. I really do. I feel young, younger, old and older. Not necessarily in any particular pattern. But even so, in as much as age is a matter of mind, age belongs to a generation as well.
I am also beginning to see the futility in certain things I sought. say for instance, search for passion, as i'd liked to call it. That, that is the biggest farce, is my current opinion. There is no such thing as passion. If you choose it to be, anything can be your 'passion' and if you don't nothing will ever be. I never thought my work would ever be my passion, but the last year it has been. It may not be this year and I don't particularly want it to be, but it was truly satisfying to know that passion is what you work for, not what makes you work. To know that there is nothing special waiting for you to chance upon, nothing that you were meant to do specially is for me a difficult thing to deal with. To understand this is liberating yet extremely painful. Well, 2010 maybe different. I might in a couple of months start looking for my passion, but hell, I can only think what I think now!
(Written in 2010 posted in 2017, don't know why!)
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