I take the title of today's post from a movie I saw a few months ago during one of my trips. The idea is not to let circumstances get the better of me. To be able to resurrect, no matter who or what I face and always, find my way back to the starting point from which I can make it all right again. No need to say that this is much easier typed than done.
Going by the number of distraction that I face on a daily basis, the real challenge is to keep my focus. To analyse on an every day basis where my destination lies and how much I have been able to fare in the span of time alloted to me. It's never easy, considering telling a lie to myself is always an easier option but that's the real fix, being honest to oneself. We all like to believe that we do not tell lies. But is that really the case? Are we truly capable of being absolutely honest with ourselves. If we did, wouldn't that be the foundation of a utopian society? Or a perfect human being? The ability to be honest at all times not only is a challnge in itself, it also seems worthless over several occasions. For example, I don't need to tell myself that I was just too lazy to get a ticket for a bus ride home. It is not that I cannot afford the travel, I simply did not do it.
Transparency in affairs has been a much-diluted aspect of modern life. To quote another line from a movie, "Just because it has been happening for years does not make it right." (Nicole Kidman in Australia) So that's the think for today.. Am I going to lie to myself and continue to live in a bubble that suits my thoughts or am I going to shatter these myths and find the strength to stand up and stand tall, in my own eyes to start? Knowing me, I'm going to start with the latter. More later.
Late in the night, I was sitting at my computer yet again (yes, production woes continue)when I see an ex-colleague online. We start having a mundane conversation and he asks me somewhere towards the end, "What is love? How is one supposed to feel when they are in love?" I couldn't give him an answer in complete honesty (he wasn't interested anyways) but I went back to re-feeling, if there is any such possibility, the feeling of being in love. The first time I actually felt love as a woman was on my first Valentine's Day with my husband. Since we spent most of our waking hours together, we had a pretty clear understanding of what we liked or disliked. Despite it being almost a year later, it was difficult to surprise each other. And yet, when he walked in through the door of the flat I used to live it, cake in one hand, flowers in another and a shy, reluctant smile on his face to let me know how bothersome the whole ordeal had been... I felt very special. He sat d...
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