A thought was born at a random and otherwise insignificant moment of my life. So there I was looking at the apple in my hand, just another apple in the long line of apples that I had eaten in my life so far, when an idea tickled the periphery of my mind. It sort of giggled and danced at the boundaries of my thoughts, shy at first but grew bolder as it went along and finally took one giant leap into *SNAP*.
You know how sometimes you are completely and utterly lost in thought and suddenly the weight of reality crash lands on your head and your thoughts start running amok. You are left scrambling for them, trying to collect all of them like loose marbles before any of them get lost forever.
An apple. Really? But in reality, what is an apple? Is it only an apple or is it completely an apple? Or is it just an idea.
Think about it, suppose your apple was called banana, would it still be an apple. Is an apple defined by its name or by its character? Don’t tell me now that inanimate objects cannot have character for I am already well aware of that.
So what is an apple really? But then I ask you what is reality really? Is it not but what we mould it to be? Is it not but the most abstract thing that was ever defined?
Getting to my point, apples are apples only because we believe them to be so. For if an apple was indeed a banana, it would actually make no difference. If from the day a person is born they are taught that apples are bananas and bananas apples, then who are you or me for that matter to tell them on their death beds that they were wrong about it all this time. Do you think for one second that you could convince that person of a truth that does not exist to him or her to begin with? If you try, then let me tell you something, you are the one who is a fool, not them.
If it tastes good, feels good, fills an empty stomach and keeps you away from the doctor, at the end of the day, isn’t that all that matters? Does it really matter what it is called?
An apple or a banana? Now you decide, what am I really talking about. Or better yet you could also decide that it doesn’t really matter. For when you really think about it, who am I to decide what is reality for you.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Imperfections – 4th March 2010
If I actually did never reach for that snickers bar (In spite of the fact that I was on a diet), never forgot to brush my teeth, never eavesdropped on someone’s conversation, never took a particular route just so I might “accidently” bump into someone, never sat next to someone hoping against hope that they would hold my hand, never took 15 minutes to make sure my hair was perfect though I am a self declared “I don’t care about how I look” person….
If I always smelled good and never lied and had enough self control to actually resist that bloody snickers bar. Damn it! Having another one. If I never stayed up late into the night overlooking the fact that I have a minor the next day, only to listen to my favourite songs or even write new ones.
If I never did any of these things, well, I would be perfect. But I would be living one sad life.
When I think of a person, maybe , yes it is their best qualities that you remember. But when that person is far away or unreachable, you start thinking about every little imperfection. Every little vice that made that person so annoying but so fond to remember about.
We are completely our best and worst qualities. And when you miss someone, you don’t miss the number of mountains they’ve climbed or the number of awards they’ve won. You miss the way their room was always a mess, or the way they talked too much, or the way they said the most nonsensically adorable things. You miss the way they sound when they are sleepy, or the way they are always late to class.
It is our imperfections that make us beautiful. It is imperfection that makes society an interesting place to live in.
It is other peoples’ imperfections that make us fall in love with them……
So sitting here, munching on my snickers bar, I think of all the crazy, mad people in this world and heave a sigh of relief because if it weren’t for them, man!!!!!!, life would be so damn boring .
If I always smelled good and never lied and had enough self control to actually resist that bloody snickers bar. Damn it! Having another one. If I never stayed up late into the night overlooking the fact that I have a minor the next day, only to listen to my favourite songs or even write new ones.
If I never did any of these things, well, I would be perfect. But I would be living one sad life.
When I think of a person, maybe , yes it is their best qualities that you remember. But when that person is far away or unreachable, you start thinking about every little imperfection. Every little vice that made that person so annoying but so fond to remember about.
We are completely our best and worst qualities. And when you miss someone, you don’t miss the number of mountains they’ve climbed or the number of awards they’ve won. You miss the way their room was always a mess, or the way they talked too much, or the way they said the most nonsensically adorable things. You miss the way they sound when they are sleepy, or the way they are always late to class.
It is our imperfections that make us beautiful. It is imperfection that makes society an interesting place to live in.
It is other peoples’ imperfections that make us fall in love with them……
So sitting here, munching on my snickers bar, I think of all the crazy, mad people in this world and heave a sigh of relief because if it weren’t for them, man!!!!!!, life would be so damn boring .
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