bittersweet symphony of my existence

image source

If you've read my posts since 2006 (highly doubt--this is me wishfully hoping that some shrink is actually reading and will eventually find me pitiful then give me free advice), you know if my subconscious neurons are on armalite mode if I post more regularly than usual. My husband guffawed last night when he saw me constructing my Patrick Star-Data artwork in the previous post.

I woke up and felt that I suppose I'm a Nanny McPhee. Not that I'm seriously ever wanted nor needed (again, the usual self-involvement on the opposite side of the esteem spectrum), but I should constantly remind myself that the reason why healthy insensitivity/detachment is ideal is that it's easier to function. Am I glad I took those Opus Dei doctrine classes before and read extensively on detachment. Not to say I could be the next cloistered nun but those helped a lot. 

I jut wish this "beating myself up internally" would cease. I should focus on  my value--to my family, as a start. 

On a related note, Nanny McPhee 1 & 2 are nice films because Emma Thompson is a brilliant brilliant brilliant thespian. Her small film Wit is good too but a little heavy on the emotion scale.

Back to the grind. Exiting the mind palace...

Gravitating towards the less complex

*images from Google, don't hate me for not citing URL sources--can't be bothered right now*

"The Art of War" author Sun Tzu once stated that "The greatest victory is that which requires no battle." Humans are interesting--sometimes 'unrelatable'; oftentimes confusing. If I were to use baking or cooking as examples, I prefer the calculated design of baking as opposed to the intuition-driven machinations of cooking.  You might raise your hand and argue about my baking vs cooking blanket statements--but that is not the focus of my line of reasoning.  Whatever I'm writing here doesn't even connect with my fantastic, spectacular, wonderful artwork above.
THAT, my anonymous and non-existent friends, is how you procrastinate like a lunatic.

Life is short, knowledge--infinite

"I confess that I have been blind as a mole, but it is better to learn wisdom late than never to learn it at all." --Sherlock Holmes (The Man with the Twisted Lip)

I read that passage from a textbook that has nothing to do with philosophy, theology, crime, or Conan Doyle. It was a comforting message; a timely one at that.  It's not common to experience the motivation and idealism of youth when approaching midlife so I'm relishing this "inspired state." I regret the aversion I once decided to direct towards abstract math when I was younger--peer pressure. My biological sciences clique snubbed intangible Greek letters like pests. We focused on the animate; after all, biology is the study of life. Yes, I used to practise the narrow mindedness of specialization that I currently detest. I once was blind but now can see--a bit, with the aid of many things and persons. There's much to absorb and the anticipation of eventually having a 20/20 understanding of abstract math is giving me butterflies. The kind one experiences a few seconds before performing on stage in front of a live audience. 

Image from http://www.victorpest.com/advice/rodents-101/myths/moles

on happiness, social expectations, and being fickle

Image from The Mind Room

Relatively speaking, I think I'm happy. But the U-shaped Happiness Curve makes me look forward to the next 10 years--because I'm a 64-year old trapped in a 35-year old. Almost 10 years ago, I remember posting about how I felt like I skipped the peak of life and went from climbing up the hill then finding a warp zone a la Super Mario Bros. and then exiting into denouement. Oh my morbid, gothic phase--the good old days. I still have my Wednesday Addams snarky tendencies, but I have been trying my best to be more Disney Princess-like; breaking into song and singing to inanimate objects and whatnot. I do wish I were more sentimental---no, maybe still detached but sentimental-ish.

I firmly believe that when one has reached a degree of acceptance (of one's circumstances)---genuine happiness enters the picture. That is why the graph above makes sense. With all my brooding and weirdness plus my opinion of happiness as being a spectrum rather than a Yes/No variable, I think I lean towards happiness.  I've accepted the fact that I'm flawed, have a love-hate relationship with thinking, tend to zone out (daydream), and probably value things (concepts) that people might cringe at. I'm okay. 

Yes, Pharrell Williams, I will clap along because I feel like a room without a roof.

I'm on a cocktail of flu medicine, vitamins, and Advil. Consider this post as drug-induced. *confetti*