Extreme
I’ve become a bit of an extreme person. No, I haven’t dyed my hair blue or anything. Although I did colour it “Darkest Brown” once and an older woman at work told me it was purple… it was pretty black, but I think to say purple was going a bit far.
What I mean is, on the one hand, I’m a lot more cynical than I used to be. I watch TV and I have to comment about everything. Even just to myself. I have no problem talking to myself :)Although not about how unrealistic a lot of stuff is, that’s my “it’s just TV” philosophy, and I like it a bit unrealistic sometimes, that’s what makes it different from living real life, yeah? Just don’t get me started on reality TV! Anyway, everyday I have more criticism about universities, about the media, and about the random people, organisations or situations that I encounter. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t go around screaming abuse at store managers about their pathetic service levels or ridiculous store policies; I’m not really into that kind of thing. But why is it? Have my expectations increased? I doubt it, I could rarely make much sense of anything that happened in Beijing! And I think those experiences generally (not in all cases!!!) made me a more patient person. Maybe I notice more about the ways that things are done or not done. No, I don’t just notice, I also analyse more too. Why is it that way? What could that lead to? How could that be improved? I’m turning into a monster…
On the other hand, I take so much pleasure in the little things these days. I often get off the bus early so I can walk down Rundle Street on my way to uni. I love just walking past the cafes and little shops in the sunshine. I feel so alive when I choose a new “route” to go out walking, and puff past houses I may or may not have ever seen before and through parks I’ve never really explored. I get excited thinking about what I’ll cook for dinner each night, though usually it’s just one of the usual 3 or 4 dishes! I stand in bookshops or libraries and am overwhelmed with the number and variation of ideas and reflections and theories and tales in front of me, and I wonder which ones I will get to read, and which ones will just never make it far up the list enough, and I feel the importance of the decision of what stuff I will choose to spend my time reading today or tomorrow.
How can I be so critical of some things, and yet made so happy by other such simple things?
What I mean is, on the one hand, I’m a lot more cynical than I used to be. I watch TV and I have to comment about everything. Even just to myself. I have no problem talking to myself :)Although not about how unrealistic a lot of stuff is, that’s my “it’s just TV” philosophy, and I like it a bit unrealistic sometimes, that’s what makes it different from living real life, yeah? Just don’t get me started on reality TV! Anyway, everyday I have more criticism about universities, about the media, and about the random people, organisations or situations that I encounter. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t go around screaming abuse at store managers about their pathetic service levels or ridiculous store policies; I’m not really into that kind of thing. But why is it? Have my expectations increased? I doubt it, I could rarely make much sense of anything that happened in Beijing! And I think those experiences generally (not in all cases!!!) made me a more patient person. Maybe I notice more about the ways that things are done or not done. No, I don’t just notice, I also analyse more too. Why is it that way? What could that lead to? How could that be improved? I’m turning into a monster…
On the other hand, I take so much pleasure in the little things these days. I often get off the bus early so I can walk down Rundle Street on my way to uni. I love just walking past the cafes and little shops in the sunshine. I feel so alive when I choose a new “route” to go out walking, and puff past houses I may or may not have ever seen before and through parks I’ve never really explored. I get excited thinking about what I’ll cook for dinner each night, though usually it’s just one of the usual 3 or 4 dishes! I stand in bookshops or libraries and am overwhelmed with the number and variation of ideas and reflections and theories and tales in front of me, and I wonder which ones I will get to read, and which ones will just never make it far up the list enough, and I feel the importance of the decision of what stuff I will choose to spend my time reading today or tomorrow.
How can I be so critical of some things, and yet made so happy by other such simple things?
2 Comments:
Hmm interesting Flic. As always. :-)
I believe it's about how the more you learn, the more you try to explain and the more you realise you still have to learn!
In a complicated world, I find happiness in the simple too.
It was the same when I got back to Sydney from Denmark and it's still the same when I go 'home' to Sydney now!
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