Philosophy. Perhaps a bit disjointed.
May. 14th, 2007 04:17 pmFrom
greygirlbeast's post, today: 'I was up until three thirty reading the Steinbeck biography. If nothing else, Steinbeck's misadventures and general shiftlessness during his twenties and early thirties make me feel a little better about having been such a grand fuck up during that portion of my own life.'
And a quote i've given, here, before: "It's never too late to become what you might have been." George Eliot said that, and I tend to take advice from women with two first names, especially when both of them are usually men's names. But I can't really take that advice. No one can.
lord_of_smoking,
mech_angel and I got into a bit of a dialectic about this quote, night before last, with
lord_of_smoking raising the question "Very technically speaking, isn't it always too late to become what you might have been?"
I replied that it depends on the how you interpret the nature of what you "might have been." If, on the one hand, you say that what you might have been is always there, waiting for you to act upon it, then no, because you can be it, at any time. On the other hand, if you believe that what you might have been is static, while you are dynamic, meaning that you are always different and that even if you become that which you might have been, you are no longer that thing, but rather that thing, filtered through your life's experiences, then yes. It is too late.
mech_angel said that she thought it was the latter option that was the correct one, and I must admit, I find myself forced to agree.
The latter is the correct conception, in my mind (not even getting into the very practical considerations of monetary ability and time of life), but the former is the correct sentiment. The idea that, no matter what you have wanted to be, what you have the potential to become, you are always able to achieve that goal is the exact right way to look at life. You are never too old to write, too old to teach, to paint, create music, to change the world. You are never too old, and never to young to do these things. You understand the importance of
greygirlbeast's quote, now.
I find myself, in recent months, thinking very heavily on the idea that I've wasted something. Some opportunity, some mythological "chance to be something." I've allowed myself to look at the achievements of my peers, and ask myself "why haven't I done that? What did I do wrong that I'm not writing for famous shows, knowing famous people, putting my work out there for the world to see?" In short, I've been, in a very subtle and insidious way, falling into pathos-driven wankery. I needed to be reminded that some of the people whose works have changed my life didn't really even get started until their thirties. Some, even into their forties. Yes, I know a lot of exceptional people, doing exceptional things, right now, at a fairly young age, and that's fine.
I will do exceptional things. I will. But that does not mean that I need to do them right now. I need to work. I need to research. I need to write, and I need to vivisect this field, these fields of knowledge, and pull out the gall bladers, powder them, and sell it as an aphrodisiac for academics. Just one sniff, and you'll drive the other geeks Wild. But that may take time. I have to be patient.
I realised, last night, that I can have the patience of a fucking monk on Xanax, when it comes to it, but-- and here's the kicker-- it has to be important. I have to know that the results of my patience are more crucial than running quickly through certain things. I've not been shown that, yet, in academia. I, paradoxically, must have patience, in order that I may know why my patience will pay off. Paradox, koan, faith, whatever you want to call it, there it is. But, if I don't think something is important, I want it to be Over. Bibliography? Not, to me, terribly important. But-- and here's the kicker, part two the revenge-- it's important to people who control the things that are, for me, important.
Second-order desires, my friends. They are a bitch.
And a quote i've given, here, before: "It's never too late to become what you might have been." George Eliot said that, and I tend to take advice from women with two first names, especially when both of them are usually men's names. But I can't really take that advice. No one can.
I replied that it depends on the how you interpret the nature of what you "might have been." If, on the one hand, you say that what you might have been is always there, waiting for you to act upon it, then no, because you can be it, at any time. On the other hand, if you believe that what you might have been is static, while you are dynamic, meaning that you are always different and that even if you become that which you might have been, you are no longer that thing, but rather that thing, filtered through your life's experiences, then yes. It is too late.
The latter is the correct conception, in my mind (not even getting into the very practical considerations of monetary ability and time of life), but the former is the correct sentiment. The idea that, no matter what you have wanted to be, what you have the potential to become, you are always able to achieve that goal is the exact right way to look at life. You are never too old to write, too old to teach, to paint, create music, to change the world. You are never too old, and never to young to do these things. You understand the importance of
I find myself, in recent months, thinking very heavily on the idea that I've wasted something. Some opportunity, some mythological "chance to be something." I've allowed myself to look at the achievements of my peers, and ask myself "why haven't I done that? What did I do wrong that I'm not writing for famous shows, knowing famous people, putting my work out there for the world to see?" In short, I've been, in a very subtle and insidious way, falling into pathos-driven wankery. I needed to be reminded that some of the people whose works have changed my life didn't really even get started until their thirties. Some, even into their forties. Yes, I know a lot of exceptional people, doing exceptional things, right now, at a fairly young age, and that's fine.
I will do exceptional things. I will. But that does not mean that I need to do them right now. I need to work. I need to research. I need to write, and I need to vivisect this field, these fields of knowledge, and pull out the gall bladers, powder them, and sell it as an aphrodisiac for academics. Just one sniff, and you'll drive the other geeks Wild. But that may take time. I have to be patient.
I realised, last night, that I can have the patience of a fucking monk on Xanax, when it comes to it, but-- and here's the kicker-- it has to be important. I have to know that the results of my patience are more crucial than running quickly through certain things. I've not been shown that, yet, in academia. I, paradoxically, must have patience, in order that I may know why my patience will pay off. Paradox, koan, faith, whatever you want to call it, there it is. But, if I don't think something is important, I want it to be Over. Bibliography? Not, to me, terribly important. But-- and here's the kicker, part two the revenge-- it's important to people who control the things that are, for me, important.
Second-order desires, my friends. They are a bitch.
no subject
Date: 2007-05-14 09:50 pm (UTC)I have to know that the results of my patience are more crucial than running quickly through certain things. I've not been shown that, yet, in academia. I, paradoxically, must have patience, in order that I may know why my patience will pay off. Paradox, koan, faith, whatever you want to call it, there it is.
One of those things. You not only have to have it, you have to exercise it to get to where you can see the worth of that patience. You have to become adept at looking ahead through time, and looking back from there. Having hindsight to begin with. You can do it. ;)
no subject
Date: 2007-05-14 10:57 pm (UTC)