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Be afrad. Be very afraid...

Want to be at home in a warm bed, asleep. DON'T want to be in class, even if it is a movie. How's that for mature? You're right, I am petty and selfish and immature. And you know what? I dare you to stand up and realy look at your life. Human nature is a pretty interesting thing, you know? How do you know what you would do if you had to choose between yourself and a total stranger? What if you had to choose bewtween yourself and your best friend? No one does, we can only set a precedent with small, everyday thing and hope that our actions will carry through in a life or death situation.
Why? Because human nature needs the semblance of control. The security of the illusion of personal destiny. Without it, we would be like a pack of rodents running from a flood. At least this way, we don't have to see the flood coming.
Try to think about it as a huge game, and every one of us is nothing more than a little bitty cheap plastic figure. Life is as random as the roll of a dice. You move forward, you go back. Hit the wrong number and you go to jail or lose entirely. Hopping along from square to square, ignorant and apathetic of everything except the squares directly in front of and behind you. You're there until whatever deity is responsible for such things gets bored and tips the board over. Game over.
What makes me any different? Nothing. I'm human. I suffer. I laugh, I cry, I rage. I dutifully hop from one square to another. I embrace all the distractions society has so thoughtfully given me, anything to make me forget how mindless and irrelevant my existence really is. I follow all the rules of the game, not because I am possessed of some moral fortitude, but because I'm afraid of what might happen if I don't. History tells me that I should be afraid. It tells me that repeatedly.
Is anything I do, anything I have ever done or might do, really important? What proof do I have that I will make any sort of dent in the pillars of history? Hell, Mozart had composed over two hundred works at my age. Alexander the Great had a good prtion of the known world under his power. Why? Did they happen to hit the "ladders" square in the game? Was it something in their genes that made them predestined for greatness?
We trudge through life, hoping that all of our rolls will be good, or a least not bad. We trust in the one thing that has been proven to be untrustworthy: fate. The randomness of chance. Chaos. There are no patterns to be found. There are no answers. We wake up every day not knowing what will happen. Will we meet our soulmate or get run over by a mack truck or neither or both? The only constant is chaos. The only surety is that nothing is ever sure. How naiive we are to think that we, who have only existed for a microscopic portion of the lifetime of the universe, we have the temerity to define the undefinable. The arrogance to label something we don't even comphrehend, and then to pretend to control, even predict it. As if the dice ever ask us what number we want. As if the squares rearrange themselves for our every whim.

Comments

( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
veijukka
Feb. 13th, 2002 12:02 pm (UTC)
Define greatness. I don't revere conquerers, however much I may respect them...and I dare Alexander to conquer the world now.

They (Mozart, Alex, etc.) are different because their chances came early enough in their lives that SOMEONE ELSE saw it for them and put them on the path to greatness. We don't have that advantage, and never will. All we can do is make certain that at the moment when opportunity knocks, we recognize it, and aren't afraid to bet our stakes on your notoriously unpredictable dice roll. Nothing wagered, nothing gained, right?
(Anonymous)
Feb. 14th, 2002 12:21 am (UTC)
Nothing Intelligent
Wish I had some intelligent comment for this other than I hope you hit one of those ladders eventually and find something that you can be happy about.
Or something.
Mainly just letting you know we missed you at dinner!
Laura
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )

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