Brought the sun and the flowers
Where there used to be rain
Rainy Sunday. I love rain so much. It smells good. It feels good.
As usual, disturbing echoes of some random rock music reach my 15th floor window. It's like they're having a rock concert every Sunday morning...
Hung over. On my week. Not beer.
Mom called, she was worried. Friends called. Friends wrote. Where the hell are you?
I haven't slept all week. Grading midterms, diaries, book reports, filling out midterms reports, preparing for my open classes next week and the Halloween party at school... I'll be a witch in the haunted house!!
Spent a lot of time with Nicolas. There's a beautiful "man made" river in Seoul - Cheonggyecheon . At night, blue lights light up rocks lying in the water. There are waterfalls too. Nice restaurants too. Laughter over Saturday Night Live too. Guitar too. Now he's back in L.A.
What if? What if I died tomorrow? Seriously, so what? I can't even figure out the meaning of life so it would spare me pretty disturbing questions.
My whole head is filled with questions. Maybe Jigsaw was right, it's just the blatant emptiness of our mundane existence. I keep my mind busy with friends, nights out and the usual but when I actually stop for a moment, it occurs to me that my life is pointless.
Isn't it totally selfish to look after our own happiness? Or, worst, to work so hard at being happy when the world is filled with such devastation? How can time go by so fast, so slowly.
A life spent looking after the weaker, helping the helpless, giving to the needy, listening to the sad, talking to the lonely - where will that leave me in the end? A sense of accomplishment, of satisfaction? What if it doesn't matter whether you are totally selfish or selfless?
I look at my grandmother. She's old and bitter. Yet she has lived a full life and has the biggest heart you could ever imagine. When she smiles she’s as radiant as the sun. She is generous and full of kindness. She's traveled the world and never gave up on anyone - even the cruellest person had to have something good in her.
As a kid, I was a total spoiled brat. When I think about it today (and teaching to kids help me see that), I am soooooo ashamed of myself! The things's i've said, the attitude, oh my! But grandma never gave up on me. Neither did she on my brother and sister. Of course she's not a saint, but I really admire her.
Even in her late 70s she was the head of a community group defending the rights of old people (getting easily abused in retirement homes) and she learned how to use the computer. Granted, the concept has not entirely blossomed in her mind but she still talks to me on MSN.
Anyway, the point is that she is wonderful. And now that she's old and needs others, she is bitter. It seems like all those years she gave and gave while probably unconsciously hoping for something in return. Not immediately, but at least when she'd be old and needy like she is today. Yet it hasn't come. Well, not in the way she'd want it.
She's frustrated because she can't do everything she used to do. Independence is just a vague concept that she once fully enjoyed. The days go by, she reads, gossips with old ladies, hangs out with her new boyfriend, goes for walks and writes. And then what?
I'm trying now. Really hard. Life has been amazingly good to me and I always think there's gotta be something bad coming up. Where's the black cloud?
But if that is true, then it means that everything is planned. I refused to believe in predestination - otherwise what would be the point of living if everything is already planned in advance? What about free will? What kind of sick almighty would just sit and watch what would appear like a TV show? If everything is meant to be, then why not spare me the time and energy of performing my role as a human being?
I'd like to be up there and watch the whole world. Busy people, arrogant losers, millionaires that think they own the universe, penniless families struggling to survive, lost souls wondering when this will all end.
It's so tiring. I grew up with mind games and a lack of reasoning. I still resent the pointless struggles, the pain of seeing someone deeply hating my grandma. We all experienced the fear of rejection, the insecurity and the mask that we put on to be like the other kids. Then we grow up and want to believe that the world has changed. We're adults and tired of those mind games.
But I realize more and more that this whole world is fake. This hypocritical world where everybody lies (including me of course) Are we going to answer “you’re hopeless” to a students who failed a test and asked you if he will ever get it?
I want to trust, to believe that there's a good heart in everyone. But I recently discovered that sometimes it's not worth wasting all my energy looking for the good side of what turns out to be evil. And that's ok.
I really hate myself for who I’ve been, what I’ve done, and how completely humane (thus normal) I still am. I guess we're not perfect and that's ok too.
