Had a day off today so spent it thinking. My moody friend wants to take a photo of me for a project and I have to write a paragraph to go beside it. The remit is ‘what inspires me’.
I drunkenly wrote this paragraph yesterday after getting in from a pub quiz [we (Bonnie and the Booksellers) came 2nd and won our stake back, woo!]. It went something along the lines of “I force myself to believe that beauty and aesthetics inspire me, but basically it’s my own selfish desire to stay alive”. Bit over dramatic, I know.
But thinking about it today, I realise that to an extent it’s true. I’d like to say that beauty, truth, soulfulness, music etc inspire me but to be honest, living is overcoming laziness.
Take for instance meeting people for the first time. I assume that all my experiences and personal history culminate in the personality I present to you. However, In order for someone to get to know me a bit deeper, I ought to fill them in on the stuff I’ve been through or my experiences… I suppose it’s about sharing these with someone else. But this is a very repetitive process, especially for someone as lazy as I. I suppose the reason you keep doing this is on the off chance someone surprises you and you get along with them. I'd rather listen to someone tell me about themselves though.
I suppose you could take pleasure in constructing a new personality every few years or so and see how far you could take it. Two people recently told me that they are completely different people to how they were 2 years ago. One has completely changed in terms of music they liked, clothes they wore and people they hung out with and the other didn't realise they were creative but once they did everything made sense and precipitated an awakening of sorts.
Anyway, I don’t think I came to any conclusion about all of this, but I basically thought that living requires you to do repetitive things. For instance meeting new people and having the same conversations again in the hope of making new friends. Or listening to songs, reading books, and watching films, in the hope of experiencing something great or learning something new. In some ways, this is a depressing thought, that you do these things in the ‘hope’ of gaining something worthwhile. I suppose you can always take pleasure in the ‘new’ – you have no choice but to.
I could go the reverse and decide what doesn’t inspire me. Well I can tell you straight away that it’s the useless England team and their inept manager.
I drunkenly wrote this paragraph yesterday after getting in from a pub quiz [we (Bonnie and the Booksellers) came 2nd and won our stake back, woo!]. It went something along the lines of “I force myself to believe that beauty and aesthetics inspire me, but basically it’s my own selfish desire to stay alive”. Bit over dramatic, I know.
But thinking about it today, I realise that to an extent it’s true. I’d like to say that beauty, truth, soulfulness, music etc inspire me but to be honest, living is overcoming laziness.
Take for instance meeting people for the first time. I assume that all my experiences and personal history culminate in the personality I present to you. However, In order for someone to get to know me a bit deeper, I ought to fill them in on the stuff I’ve been through or my experiences… I suppose it’s about sharing these with someone else. But this is a very repetitive process, especially for someone as lazy as I. I suppose the reason you keep doing this is on the off chance someone surprises you and you get along with them. I'd rather listen to someone tell me about themselves though.
I suppose you could take pleasure in constructing a new personality every few years or so and see how far you could take it. Two people recently told me that they are completely different people to how they were 2 years ago. One has completely changed in terms of music they liked, clothes they wore and people they hung out with and the other didn't realise they were creative but once they did everything made sense and precipitated an awakening of sorts.
Anyway, I don’t think I came to any conclusion about all of this, but I basically thought that living requires you to do repetitive things. For instance meeting new people and having the same conversations again in the hope of making new friends. Or listening to songs, reading books, and watching films, in the hope of experiencing something great or learning something new. In some ways, this is a depressing thought, that you do these things in the ‘hope’ of gaining something worthwhile. I suppose you can always take pleasure in the ‘new’ – you have no choice but to.
I could go the reverse and decide what doesn’t inspire me. Well I can tell you straight away that it’s the useless England team and their inept manager.
I hope it snows loads tomorrow.
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