Stuck in speedbump city where the only thing that’s pretty is the thought of getting out Jake Bugg, Trouble TownCame back after watching a movie, I am close to tears. A
Having an opinion in my family is considered polemical. I can’t even think about having an opinion. That’s because my parents aren’t ready to accept that I am a twenty-year-old grown women. They think that opinions vitiate kids. Let me tell you one thing, that’s sort of true. I am corrupted by the freedom of individuality. I am not a perfect fit for my parents and I am not a fit for the people in my family. There are hidden costs to letting your kid have unrestricted access to the internet, they grow up by themselves and you can’t push your belives onto them anymore. There is this perennial thought cruising through my head and it keeps yelling out loud, “Maybe your parents didn’t do anything wrong, heck, whatever they have done is the best they could. They didn’t have resources, they didn’t have a guide to follow”
I was the one who went off-script. I was the one who was lauded the internet, the book, the whole new world that’s out there. There was just so much out there, most of it existed in weird taint of liberal American philosophy, but there it was, a whole new world that I could be part of. The idealist in me had access to Tumblr, there it was the perfectly imperfect world for a romantic idealist. However, if you were present on the internet around 10 years ago you’d know how toxic my brand new world was. Constantly exposed to soft porn, self hard, self-deprecating post but not for humour, romanticizing pain and suffering, it was a competition in fact. Who’s life is worse! I never remonstrated, just watched and observed. Absorbed a little, observed more. It was a strange kind of complaisance. There were distressed kids out there and I wanted to feel needed, I talked to every one of them. Helping them out. Talking about what our futures would be like, the idealist in me enjoyed this. We were kids with so much hope for the future and such disdain for the present. That’s the reason I am frustrated with people who venerate the “glorious” future, because I spent a big chunk of my life doing that and I know what a miserable place that is to be. The ostentatious kid took her own sweet time to grow out of this. It took a while, which sane teenager wants to leave their phantasms to come back to this prosaic reality. This isn’t a detraction for the teenage Meghana, this is just how my life would look like if someone decided to write a satire on it.
I am sipping my green tea–a friend at work had got it for me from Japan–I let a breath out. It’s a halcyon blue room. Blue room, yes that’s the colour I went with. I was younger and well much more optimist about how I manage to design the entire interior of the house. I was an optimist. I used to think that it was a trait worth hiding, now that I am slightly over I think it’s really personable. Sulking and hating the world isn’t idolised anymore and the optimist can be a breath of fresh air in best situations and just bearable in the worst one. Am I am optimist currently? I am not entirely sure, I feel like I am an optimist masquerading as a cynic so that people around me take more seriously. I don’t think that’s the best use of my time and energy and I should accept who I am–but trust me, buddy, constantly fighting for acceptance is onerous and should be avoided unless exigent!
I listened to this philosophise this episode, it was talking about the argument between ancients and the moderns and there is one thing that was striking. The ancients had their society set around virtues and they would have these ideals that the person would strive for but it was also known that no one can ever reach the ideals. It was the strive to get as close to the ideal as possible but everyone knew how impossible.
I am not a libertine, god no, I don’t even know what I am this point. I have the biggest existential crises because of multitude of reasons and I don’t want to expatiate on that as of now.
Aristotle’s Ideal Man
- He does not expose himself needlessly to danger, since there are few things for which he cares sufficiently; but he is willing, in great crisis, to give even his life,-knowing that under certain conditions it is not worthwhile to live.
- He is of disposition to do men service, though he is ashamed to have a service done to him
- To confer kindness it is an act of superiority, to receive one is an act of subordination
- He does not take part in public displays
- He is open in his dislikes and preferences, he talks and acts frankly, because for his contempt for men and things… He is never fired with admiration since there is nothing great in his eyes.
- He cannot live in complaisance with others, except it be a friend; complaisance is the characteristic of a slave
- he never feels malice and always forgets and passes over injuries
- he is not fond of talking… it is no concern of his that he should be praised, or that others should be blamed.
- He does not speak evil of others, even of his enemies, unless it be to themselves.
- is carriage is sedated, his voice deep, his speech measured, he is not given to hurry, for he is concerned about only a few things, he is not prone to vehemence, for he thinks nothing is very important.
- A shrill voice and hasty steps come to a man through care.. he bears the accident of life with dignity and grace, making the best of his circumstances, like a skilful general who marshals has limited forces with all the strategy of war… He is his own best friend and takes delight in privacy whereas the man of no virtue or ability is his own worst enemy, and is afraid of solitude