What's up with men and cigars? I mean, seriously! Suffering through those sticks of cancer because amidst the wisps of smoke they maybe one day find a spark of short lived enlightenment? I just don't get it. Then again, I should be the last to judge - I have an impending waxing appointment...a painful reminder of how the female species time after time inflicts suffering on oneself with full knowledge of it, just to fit into an archaic system of 'acceptable' terms of social assessment. Some may even rightfully call it sadistic.
I have with every year noticed signs confirming my suspicion that women have an innate need to masquerade as suckers for pain. Of course, like everything else, there are the normalists and then the extremists.
Take our life cycle. As kids, we want to start wearing make-up and get a training bra sooner than we give up reading Sweet Valley High and The Famous Five - of course, we grow up too soon, miss out on years of blissful ignorance and damage our natural beauty. Then, as we enter high school, we quarrel for boys who fit our superficial checklists and learn the ways of tactfully twisting the truth because we believe our parents were never our age once. Then, as we grow older, and supposedly wiser, we binge on things just because we can - from food to drinks to extremes of either isolation or becoming social butterflies. As we become so-called adults, we sacrifice aspirations for our partners, families, social groups and what not - to feel accepted, loved and secure.
We constantly through our ups and downs, years of movement, times of laughter and strife, tend to look outwards. Our happiness therefore is not genuine - it is influenced by a combination of external factors, and, even in it's purest form, is not sustainable. I could never gauge why one could not be happy at things they have achieved in isolation - our happiness from an achievement in fact, comes from the acknowledgment of this feat by the social circles we exist in. Therefore, since happiness cannot truly in essence come solely from within, the fact that it's left up to our interactions with elements outside us, makes it a dangerous play - with one exposed to the possibility of them not always being in our favour, thus, leaving us as 'suckers for pain', based on the impending risk and uncertainty that all our actions may not make us smile.
What then does it take for us to be happy? Simple - the average male would say...a nice game, a good drink, and some good friends around - or maybe a hike up the Himalayas to keep the adrenaline pumping. I wish it were that simple, maybe it is. But true to the nature of women, nothing can be - there is complication clouded even in the air we breathe. What then, is the key to happiness? Honestly, beats me - but I do know this, as long as I keep finding new things to do that constantly challenge my abilities; and as long as I keep persevering at not improvising, but improving...I'll always have a sense of satisfaction. And with it, comes a moment of peace, where I am temporarily selfishly happy.
I have with every year noticed signs confirming my suspicion that women have an innate need to masquerade as suckers for pain. Of course, like everything else, there are the normalists and then the extremists.
Take our life cycle. As kids, we want to start wearing make-up and get a training bra sooner than we give up reading Sweet Valley High and The Famous Five - of course, we grow up too soon, miss out on years of blissful ignorance and damage our natural beauty. Then, as we enter high school, we quarrel for boys who fit our superficial checklists and learn the ways of tactfully twisting the truth because we believe our parents were never our age once. Then, as we grow older, and supposedly wiser, we binge on things just because we can - from food to drinks to extremes of either isolation or becoming social butterflies. As we become so-called adults, we sacrifice aspirations for our partners, families, social groups and what not - to feel accepted, loved and secure.
We constantly through our ups and downs, years of movement, times of laughter and strife, tend to look outwards. Our happiness therefore is not genuine - it is influenced by a combination of external factors, and, even in it's purest form, is not sustainable. I could never gauge why one could not be happy at things they have achieved in isolation - our happiness from an achievement in fact, comes from the acknowledgment of this feat by the social circles we exist in. Therefore, since happiness cannot truly in essence come solely from within, the fact that it's left up to our interactions with elements outside us, makes it a dangerous play - with one exposed to the possibility of them not always being in our favour, thus, leaving us as 'suckers for pain', based on the impending risk and uncertainty that all our actions may not make us smile.
What then does it take for us to be happy? Simple - the average male would say...a nice game, a good drink, and some good friends around - or maybe a hike up the Himalayas to keep the adrenaline pumping. I wish it were that simple, maybe it is. But true to the nature of women, nothing can be - there is complication clouded even in the air we breathe. What then, is the key to happiness? Honestly, beats me - but I do know this, as long as I keep finding new things to do that constantly challenge my abilities; and as long as I keep persevering at not improvising, but improving...I'll always have a sense of satisfaction. And with it, comes a moment of peace, where I am temporarily selfishly happy.
No comments:
Post a Comment