American myopia, at its finest. I’d give props to the Seinfeld episode reference, but the rest of the description is trite. This was taken from here.
I don’t really subscribe to the theory that sadness is tender. I don’t understand how it works. There’s nothing poetic about it. There’s nothing nice about it. Sadness just helps to paint a portent picture of melancholia, available at your friendly neighbourhood Shoppe d’Feelings for, let’s say, a nickel.
Thanks to a steady stream of blue-ribbon deviantART accounts, tween dramas, Thai music videos [look them up], radio weepers and a misinterpretation of the colour burgundy, we’ve been put on a collision course with the idea that sadness equates to beauty. That’s also if you include any filter-toting smartphone photograph you’ve taken of an inanimate object, in an attempt to highlight sadness by stating that the otherwise dead thing is more alive than you are [guilty!].
We indulge ourselves in all these extremities because we’re terribly [and mayhaps comfortably] numb most of the time. So much so that we can freely admit that the most genuine thing that we’ve felt in our lives was not happiness, but sorrow [guilty!], just like the endless bald tate of Billy Corgan’s head.
I don’t reckon this to be true. I think sadness, although limitless, should not be indulged in for too long, even if it is to relive certain tender memories that you couldn’t extract from the neighbourhood Brain Trust for a dime. Pensiveness does NOT equate to feeling sad and morose and drowning yourself in Vitamin Water. Nostalgia does NOT mean you have to will yourself to go back in time to relive and repeat that one defining moment in life when taking a left turn would have given you hard candy instead of sour plums.
Sadness is not fashionable. Sadness is not trendy. Sadness is not an Afghan coat that is supposed to keep you warm [guilty!]. Sadness is not a dog to fit in your clutch. Sadness is not cool. Sadness is hardly the encyclopedia-like database of fine wines and cheeses that you have in your head.
Sadness is sad. SAD. SAD!
I repeat: SAD. It’s like Crash And The Boys said: so sad, so, so sad [look them up].
You know that pain of yours that you claim the whole world ignores? It’s actually there. It’s the collective groan of a lot of tired ears.
If you have a problem, and you have to let it out, then let it out. Do not wallow into some contemptuous solo period of lamenting that no one can understand. You have friends, and ready, willing, loving, ears at the fore. Use them. People are concerned for you, and deciding to declare yourself an anthropomorphic raccoon [you guessed it…guilty!] will NOT lighten your heart’s burden.
(A burden is to be shared, because the people whose healing hands lay upon you may also need your healing hands one day to be laid upon them.)
And if you need to wallow, be constructive about it. Write a song, or some prose. Bake a cake. Don’t be another McGuffin. Because once you realise how much of a red herring everything is, you’re not in any shape to do anything but laugh.
Jon Bon Jovi said that no man is an island.
An island, I mean. You can be Jon Bon Jovi, he’s quite a cool guy.
Any hole that you dig for yourself can either be a grave, or it can lead you to the center of YOUR world. Your choice. These are things that you can’t get from your neighbourhood Hut O’ Self-Esteem for a buck – you can get them for free from within.
I’m not denying that you will get upset, and hurt. I’m only saying that there comes a time when even you must rise up, brush aside the rubble and force yourself to stand amongst giants.
So what does the cat say?Your move, Bogart.
Don’t be such a twat.
I’ve recently tried to change my world view about things. The reason being is, aside from certain uncontrollable factors that touch our lives [such as twisted terrorist attacks and the occasional lampoon of a kangaroo grove that acts as a government], we live life as if its a drudgery of sorts. Half of us already go through the paces, and none of us are truly enlightened about how abundantly complex and enjoyable life can be.
I know that I should be the LAST person to lecture on how to live life, seeing how my mindset is more antiquated than your grandfather’s old phonogram [look it up], but let’s not forget that every day can be lived better if we kick off the habit of pre-rendering it as an EXPERIENCE, and not a slog.
Life is too short for us to carry burdens of the heart, no matter how high they scale on the brevity factor. Life is too precious for us to fiddle and bicker over minor things [nothing is trivial, but everything can be minor]. Life is certainly too valuable for us to point fingers at one another.
Again, I am NOT an authority on how to live life. I don’t know anything about inner mantras, nor do I sing any hymns to make you want to raise your hands and cry HALLELUJAH [that’s a half-lie, I know lots of hymns but I don’t sing them].
I am merely a happy-go-lucky chap who doesn’t take life seriously [except for the serious stuff]. If it’s not related to work, I say, just be happy and try to do the right thing. Spread some good vibes and make someone’s day! Give yourself extra points for trying to put a smile on, let’s say, Obnoxious Grumpy Neighbour #65, who just happens to look like a dour Tommy Lee Jones. Even if it IS related to work, put a smile on your face, because outside of the workplace, you KNOW that the one imbecile you can’t get along with in the cubicle still has someone that they too must go home to.
Personally? I think we should try our best to live life through the eyes of a child, and remind ourselves that although we know what’s coming in the end, there’s nothing stopping us from seeing EVERYTHING as an experience. The bigger picture awaits you, like a veil that needs to free itself from being bound around your eyes. It’s sounds naive, but perceiving life as an EXPERIENCE rather than a drag can put things into perspective. The meaning of your life is what you make of it, after all.
There’re far too many pieces of bad news, bad moods and bad vibes going around that make everyone bitter and spiteful and incredibly intolerably Chinkier than most Chinese people would go.
Turn off your mind, relax and, like, y’know, float upstream once in a while. If you’re super busy and your eyes start spinning, then close them and relax.
And for those of you who say that I’m saying all this because I’ve found myself dangling on the precarious position between insanity and cushy middle-class living, I say: nay. I have been through too much in life and worked too hard to see my life slip away from me to refuse itself the enjoyment of…enjoyment. So while you shuffle your paper, count your numbers, downscale your overheads and improve corporate synergy, please do realise that you are the focal point of everything around you, and that although you think you have it bad, things could be much worse.
For Pete’s sake [Parker, Townsend, Sampras – your pick], relax, people. Be thankful that you’re alive, and, y’know, don’t be scared to show it once in a while.
Now show me that Superbass.