One day, one page, one sketch of GREAT EXPECTATIONS, published daily at 8:40 AM.
Day after day worried about having a career, increasing your market value, growing older, wasting time. And then, in the end, does it matter how you lived? It seems like in the end, when the only thing left is regret, everyone seeks forgiveness for a life lived in worry.
I feel lucky that I’m still able to sleep in my childhood bedroom when I go visit my parents. At first it feels like I’ve been around the block and everything about it seems small. But then I get overwhelmed by a sense of belonging and closeness.
I’ve acted conceitedly in numerous times, and I always have a guilty feeling right after. I’m not sure exactly what part of the whole process is detrimental, and which one is not.
I grew up not seeing any food served during funerals, but now I think serving some tea and light refreshments to positively pique emotions during such sorrowful times is a great idea.
I find burial traditions very interesting. Rites are as important to end things as they are to start them.
“Where I live, everything is very small.” ― The Little Prince.
The older I get the more I think about illness and death.
Sometimes I watch with a mix of horror and sour resentment how some of us display such an admirable opinion of ourselves in social media platforms. What are we trying to say? Is boasting our idea of inspiring? Is this an instinctual behavior?
There is no poverty among animals because they live on their own, they don’t know about class systems, exploitations, or debt. They don’t make lists.
Spend, spend, spend. I don’t think cupid was ever paid for his job. I think his basic necessities were minimal.
I don’t think grace is a naive state of mind, or that it helps maintain a superficial equilibrium. Grace may be the best form of expression.
Everyone seemed grumpy and short tempered this week. I have a hard time with confrontation but I had to use it to push back a little bit. There was heat, and burn, and smoke, and scowl, as in coal.
Expectations are infectious, I find myself jumping in the pit of fire and thinking I will not get burned. Perhaps you won’t, but there are those instants when you ask yourself why you’re there and why it is better. Is it better?
Changing you mind is not a bad thing. You have to listen and be open. Intuition will betray you more often than not. Get messy.
Sadness=negation of beauty.
The Havisham Hour 