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No human relation gives one possession in another—every two souls are absolutely different. In friendship or in love, the two side by side raise hands together to find what one cannot reach alone.
I once read a story about racial prejudices. The mother saw how her son instinctively hugged his black nanny upon their first introduction. The Mother remarked how prejudices are learned by children through their parents.
It came back to me when, I was bored one day waiting for my friends to arrive, that I went online and checked my Friendster account. In my long wait, I entered almost every person in my first degree friends---that then I came across Jas’ account and saw a message in one of her pictures. It said “Happiness is a Learned Condition.”
I thought that was a neat statement.
I once thought that if God gave man his free will and enabled man to make choices--- I wondered if my happiness can be something I can will to happen----something tangible that the choice eventually would manifest itself.
If I would want something badly---would it eventually be a reality?
But if a person can have anything she wills---who takes into account the actual making of the choice itself? I mean, should I be careful of what I wish for? Or are our life choices something subconscious that the actual making of a choice is blurred between reality and wishful thinking? Who then should I blame if my choice is misguided? If happiness was a learned condition-----a will-----a conscious choice-----then why the hell is half the people I know have miserable lives, or wanting to live another, or feeling left out, or feeling like they’re living a life they don’t want to live?
Economics? Life choices gone bad? Or is everything as it should be?
Is discontent the most natural of all selfish desires/feelings of man?
Without the theatrics, would our lives be meaningful? When we have fights with our significant other, do we do so because there’s a problem or because sometimes a good argument is better than a seemingly “harmonious” relationship?
I once remarked “That’s boring!”, in surprise and disbelief and even in mockery with a little hint of sarcasm, when a guy friend said that he had never had an “argument” with his girlfriend of six months
With the rate I’m “arguing” and the “dramatics” that my friends witness with my Y0---he (the guy friend) would probably give my boo a medal for sticking up with me. Or is just my tendency to argue and complain a manifestation of my being a spoiled brat that’s honestly acknowledging the bitchiness that is in me? Or was Theatre the career choice I failed to make? Whatever.
If life and happiness was a learned condition----somebody please throw me the guidebook.
But then again, I might just boomerang it back to you. Beyotch!!!
