I do watch BBC while getting ready and when I get home. But it leaves me with the same thought -- why can't people just get along? Pakistan you have a power struggle and people die, the Middle East where a lot of it is, and let's face it, dogmatic principles of something that may entirely be a product of the human need to find meaning but how on EARTH does that entail taking another human life?
Okay, I don't want to sound holier than thou and I perhaps could think of a few people I would have done away with if I were Grand High Poobah Ruler of the Universe. But the point remains, how much of it is unnecessary. And it makes me sad to think of the kind of place I will bring another life into.
There is so much beauty in the world, so many things to see and understand, and even beauty created by men. Van Gogh, Da Vinci, Mozart, Neruda, the piano, zeniths of greatness, the ability to change the course of history...but still, I can't help be a cynic sometimes.
I want to write but am lost as to what. I need to find something on to focus, to take me away from waiting for the phone to ring from this chap who runs a fund in India, yeah...still looking for a job.
It's turning cold again in the City, I can hear the wind making that quiet hissing between the now brown and orange leaves. I love walking down the cement after a rain at this time of the year. The rain makes the leaves stick to the pavement and in the morning they are blow away by the maintenance crews but the dust imprint of the leaves still lingers, like so many brown chalk outlines.
The lights are coming up, the thin naked trees near the place I get breakfast, the corner of 57th and 6th, have a string of lights that look a bit comical at night, trying to cover themselves up. The lobby has a beautiful Christmas tree, several feet tall and all decked out for the Holidays. People walk past on their way home, arms with shopping bags or cradling Christmas themed Starbucks cinnamon lattes. The huge crystal light is up on 5th avenue and I can see it from the office window.
I was in London this time last year. Piccadilly Circus had those garish lights up and people seemed happy near the Troccodero.
I have to go shopping for my family and list ranges from flip-flops from Gap to Splenda to a laptop.
I find it hard to sit in silence and to just be. Even then I am thinking about what to do to occupy myself. It's the silences in my head that I try and stave off. I wonder why, what's hidden behind the chatter that goes on in there.
(a big smile)
BBC America is advertising the shows I used to watch on my couch in London. London was fun after all despite all the confusion. I just wish I had known that then. I had an absolutely brilliant time, even when I was sitting and sulking on the couch, Bobo sharing the sulk.
Oh dear, an end of the year post in the making? Time to take stock and all that?
If I had to think of five things to sum up the year, the first five, the Short One, moving, confusion, my folks, engagement.
I suspect the second and third and inter-related
So many words and nothing said. What a waste
How much is left to chance? Why do we try and wrest control from (Fate)? Everything is an accident, a happy chance. From conception to the moment of death, precious few instances are truly under our control.
People try and dictate how you should live your life, create an illusion of control to create some sense of order and direction. But in the end, perhaps it all is a question of chance. A chance meeting, being at the right place at the serendipitous moment, the right words said, the right train missed, the fortunate delay, all of them causing events way beyond our control, too many variable to know them all.
The only thing we DO control is how we react, how we recover when we stumble and fall, and how we let things affect us. But perhaps that's all we need?