There is an element to practicality that is of a depressing nature, and hope-advocating detractors of the philosophy probably refer to this aspect when they make their case of practicality = pessimism. But who cares about them anyway. In the words of yours truly, Hope is a vampire bitch. Which makes her fans a bunch of teenage, twilight-esque groupies, I suppose.
Nonetheless I acknowledge the fact that practicality has a depressing element, and if you tend to be of a depressive nature it becomes easy to overshoot and devolve into pessimism somewhere along the line. Just look at where that poor bastard Murphy ended up, if you want an example.
Not that you should – practicality involves recognizing the positives in a situation as well as the negatives, and though keeping a balance is hard when one’s nature tends to fall on either side of the happy-unhappy spectrum, it should be attempted anyhow.
What I meant to talk about though, today – or tonight, since when better to ramble than four in the morning – is that if one in essence of practicality, based on circumstances and external factors, absolutely judiciously accepts something, such as the fact that a normal, mundane, average girl like me is going to have a normal, mundane, average sort of life – why does such a simple, matter-of-fact, perfectly justifiable conclusion feel so much like I’m being pessimistic?
Its so ridiculous, sometimes, that desire to fight against mundanity and normalness that rises up in me when I try to make myself accept that that’s exactly what the future holds, no more and (hopefully) no less. This part of me simply loses her marbles. She kicks and screams and throws a tantrum and accuses me of all sorts of things, from laziness to lack of imagination. And yet when I do tame that uprising of almost tennage rebelliousness, and I come to slowly accept things, a sad feeling seems to leak out of the dead body of the rebel in me, and sink and taint the pool that is my soul.
It tastes like a lot like defeat.
But the rebel is a vampire bitch too, and it rises again and again, however much I try to kill it. Sometimes, as I said to a.p. once, it surfaces as a desire to somehow swim against the current that is leading me wherever, in the delusion that if I only swim far enough or hard enough, I’ll be able to beat the current and get to somewhere else other than where I’m heading. Acceptance is to go with the flow. Shimmi, however, likes to swim.
And yet acceptance is so important to go on with life. I mean, amazing, awfully fortunate and lucky things happen all the time, to all sorts of people, but one should be practical. There are on average one hundred and sixty million other people with me in this country alone – why shouldn’t the lucky things happen to them and not me? What is the probability?
I do not consider myself above the multitudes that throng the world’s every corner, except in the lucky chances that happen to be mine – I am not intrinsically better in any way. My philosophy has always been along the lines of ‘There, but for the grace of God, go I.’ (I don’t know whether shimmi thinks the same. we don’t talk much. its hard to converse with someone you’re throttling) Replace God with the deity or non-deity of your choice. Basically, that is another reason why if mundanity awaits 90% of the population, I will not suffer the conceit of considering myself of the 10% with the fabulous lives. My practicality, a bitch in itself, does not allow me.
So yeah. The epic battle waged between the rebelliousness in me against mundanity and fate and acceptance of bleak, uninteresting futures goes on. I will not inflict sufferings on you guys by providing anymore updates however 😛 this was simply a venture into a worldview, a little discussion of the philosophies that have been my staple mental diet for some time, not to be repeated. If I’ve bored you, well, suck it.
See you soon.