NC and I met up for coffee, after probably a year or so. The last time we 'properly' met up was before her sister got married, before I lost some friends who I thought understood me very well, before I gained and lost direction of where the world is going, before things that gave me hope stopped giving me hope. I was quite excited about life I suppose. Which is why I was a bit nervous about meeting up with her again, after so much has changed. But it was great - it was as if I was really listening to what she has to say, for the first time.
She asked me what I think it means to be an adult. She said she knows someone who said it means to be able to survive in any situation. She said she thinks it means to be take responsibility for your own actions. I tried to think of a better definition, but I couldn't. Although, realistically, it's hard to define what 'your own actions' are. It's hard to realise what you are responsible for and what not. Or maybe it's just hard for me because I haven't become enough of an adult yet.
I finished reading 'The Fault in our Stars' in less than 48 hours, including all the things that I needed to do in those hours - eat, sleep, pray, earn money, go to uni, catch up with friends. What makes this book amazing is what makes any other piece of literary work amazing to me - the ability of the author to see something from a perspective I haven't been able to see it from before. The ability to surprise, the ability to string together ordinary words in an extraordinary way.
I think I get bored pretty easily. But then, little things amaze me. I never know how to answer questions related to this in psychological questionnaires. I think I'd get bored of myself if I knew myself as someone else. I suppose I get bored of people who are too introspective and don't really care about the rest of the world. But I also don't like it when people try to drill it in themselves that they have to care about the rest of the world, even though they are selfish at heart, in which case they care about the world out of their own selfishness. But this made me realise again that we are all selfish, and the best thing to be selfish about is Jannah. But sometimes I get so far from striving for Jannah that I lose my direction and become selfish for the wrong cause.
I caught up with another friend yesterday, and I was talking about how it seems to me that the root of problems in our current world seems to be at the political level, so we should probably work to solve the problem from that level. The question is how that should be done. The friend said that it will be better if we try to solve the problem scientifically, so, for example, instead of putting money into fighting wars for oil, it would be better if people put money into research on an alternative source of energy. And then we talked about how charities that only satisfy the basic needs of people is a way to make the donors feel good, rather than being much useful. Which is true to a great extent, but then, we can't exactly ignore these very short term needs either.
Another thing that was said was: instead of constantly feeling gloomy about a terrible situation that is taking place on the opposite side of the world, I'd rather focus on what I can do to solve the problem. Here's another thing that's wrong with some of the people I'm around most of the time - they feel sad, depressed, hopeless and bitter about the world. But what do they do about it? They make people aware, yes, but what else? How are they themselves moving forward? I don't know. But, I'd rather not turn into a sad, depressed, hopeless and bitter person who has nothing to offer to the world except slashing words.
I suppose I need to return to my mantra: balance.
I was blind and heartbroken and didn't want to do anything and Gus burst into my room and shouted, 'I have wonderful news!' And I was like, 'I don't really want to hear wonderful news right now,' and Gus said, 'This is wonderful news you want to hear,' and I asked him, 'Fine, what is it?' and he said, 'You are going to live a good and long life filled with great and terrible moments you cannot even imagine yet!'
Also, John Green makes me want to start reading poetry again.
There's a certain slant of light,
On winter afternoons,
That oppresses, like the weight
Of cathedral tunes.
Heavenly hurt it gives us;
We can find no scar,
But internal difference
Where the meanings are.
None may teach it anything,
'Tis the seal, despair,-
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the air.
When it comes, the landscape listens,
Shadows hold their breath;
When it goes, 't is like the distance
On the look of death.
She asked me what I think it means to be an adult. She said she knows someone who said it means to be able to survive in any situation. She said she thinks it means to be take responsibility for your own actions. I tried to think of a better definition, but I couldn't. Although, realistically, it's hard to define what 'your own actions' are. It's hard to realise what you are responsible for and what not. Or maybe it's just hard for me because I haven't become enough of an adult yet.
I finished reading 'The Fault in our Stars' in less than 48 hours, including all the things that I needed to do in those hours - eat, sleep, pray, earn money, go to uni, catch up with friends. What makes this book amazing is what makes any other piece of literary work amazing to me - the ability of the author to see something from a perspective I haven't been able to see it from before. The ability to surprise, the ability to string together ordinary words in an extraordinary way.
I think I get bored pretty easily. But then, little things amaze me. I never know how to answer questions related to this in psychological questionnaires. I think I'd get bored of myself if I knew myself as someone else. I suppose I get bored of people who are too introspective and don't really care about the rest of the world. But I also don't like it when people try to drill it in themselves that they have to care about the rest of the world, even though they are selfish at heart, in which case they care about the world out of their own selfishness. But this made me realise again that we are all selfish, and the best thing to be selfish about is Jannah. But sometimes I get so far from striving for Jannah that I lose my direction and become selfish for the wrong cause.
I caught up with another friend yesterday, and I was talking about how it seems to me that the root of problems in our current world seems to be at the political level, so we should probably work to solve the problem from that level. The question is how that should be done. The friend said that it will be better if we try to solve the problem scientifically, so, for example, instead of putting money into fighting wars for oil, it would be better if people put money into research on an alternative source of energy. And then we talked about how charities that only satisfy the basic needs of people is a way to make the donors feel good, rather than being much useful. Which is true to a great extent, but then, we can't exactly ignore these very short term needs either.
Another thing that was said was: instead of constantly feeling gloomy about a terrible situation that is taking place on the opposite side of the world, I'd rather focus on what I can do to solve the problem. Here's another thing that's wrong with some of the people I'm around most of the time - they feel sad, depressed, hopeless and bitter about the world. But what do they do about it? They make people aware, yes, but what else? How are they themselves moving forward? I don't know. But, I'd rather not turn into a sad, depressed, hopeless and bitter person who has nothing to offer to the world except slashing words.
I suppose I need to return to my mantra: balance.
I was blind and heartbroken and didn't want to do anything and Gus burst into my room and shouted, 'I have wonderful news!' And I was like, 'I don't really want to hear wonderful news right now,' and Gus said, 'This is wonderful news you want to hear,' and I asked him, 'Fine, what is it?' and he said, 'You are going to live a good and long life filled with great and terrible moments you cannot even imagine yet!'
Also, John Green makes me want to start reading poetry again.
There's a certain slant of light,
On winter afternoons,
That oppresses, like the weight
Of cathedral tunes.
Heavenly hurt it gives us;
We can find no scar,
But internal difference
Where the meanings are.
None may teach it anything,
'Tis the seal, despair,-
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the air.
When it comes, the landscape listens,
Shadows hold their breath;
When it goes, 't is like the distance
On the look of death.
PS: Tonight is a blue moon moonlit night.
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