Were I a contemporary version of that wittiest lady-in-waiting, Sei Shonagon, painstakingly penning my lists of likings & dislikes, loves & hates, under the entry "Hateful Things" (or "Things for Which I Have No-Patience-Whatsoever") I would no doubt begin with the following:
Crybabies. People who constantly blame others - be it civilisation, society, country, patriarchy, gender, sexual orientation, race, upbringing, their parents, their neighbours, their enemies, whatever, whoever - for their own failures, their spiritlessness, their inability to live & love open-heartedly, taking life's many blows without flinching.
People who conceal themselves behind a shield of evasions, untruths, manipulations, delusions, lame excuses, and take these things - and expect you to take them - for the truth, the one and only truth. People who, for the sake of self-justifying and protecting themselves, picture the world in black & white, criminally leaving out all the manifold colours, possibilities and nuances in between.
As if one's moral fibre didn't show itself precisely in the ability to overcome social, sexual or racial prejudices and predicaments - and to stop grumbling about everything and everyone, for god's sake, when you are, first and foremost, the one to blame.
As if one's moral fibre didn't show itself precisely in the ability to overcome social, sexual or racial prejudices and predicaments - and to stop grumbling about everything and everyone, for god's sake, when you are, first and foremost, the one to blame.
As if victimology were some sort of vocation. As if the shadows projected onto one's dank cave were reality itself. Sheltered lives.
How far can one take self-absorption and blind refusal? How far can one waste one's life inside a protective shell, when life is so short, so pitifully short...?
How far can one take self-absorption and blind refusal? How far can one waste one's life inside a protective shell, when life is so short, so pitifully short...?
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