I'm unhappy.
So I came back to London, back home. Home's where the heart is, right? Home is where we can relax and let the world pass us by, where we can truly be ourselves, where we can be in our own skin naked for all the world to see. So then why do I not feel at home?
Coming back from my gap year has really widened my eyes to what life here in London has become and is becoming. There is this tension in the air, a stiffness choking everyone everywhere. And it seems that everyone feels it, yet nothing is being done about it. I have seen more police out on the streets in the past 3 days doing actual police work than I saw from the Israeli police during the 9 months I spent there. I'm not just talking about seeing more street patrols or vehicles. Arresting people, closing streets off, and zooming past me at a million miles and hour with sirens wailing have all occurred withing the last 72 hours. What is going on!
Its a dream. All that are left are stories about how as a kids, my parents would walk freely about with front doors left open, or how they used to go out at night because back then nobody needed a bullet proof vest or a rape alarm. Back then, we new our neighbours too. If their alarm went off they would go and investigate. Now, if a neighbours house alarm went off, I would do one of a number of things:
- Lock all the doors, making sure each door was double/triple locked
- Peek outside the window to see what might happen, secretly hoping that I would spot the robber, then call the police and save the day
- Pretend that nothing is going on and life my life as normal.
Now that alarm could be going off for 15 minutes and I would still do nothing except huff and puff at how obnoxious the neighbours were being, "Who would install such a ridiculously stupid sounding alarm, Pah!".
But its not just about crazy police and obnoxious alarms, it goes a lot deeper than that.
I am an British citizen. Now living in this democratic state allows many different people from many different backgrounds to live in peace and harmony. Blacks can sit with Whites. Jews can sit with Muslims, and women have equal rights to men. So then why is it that in many areas not just in London but around the UK, it is dangerous to go out once the sun goes down? Why do all my friends tell me that I should never drive through certain areas in town unless I want to get shot? Why have many of my friends been mugged, both girls and boys? Is there an answer to all of this?
What a stupid question, of course there is. Political Correctness. Our society has forgotten what it is like to be sincere, to be polite and kind, to do things for one another without asking questions. We have forgotten about respect, about respect for our elders, for each other and for ourselves. You might be shaking your head going "No, no, no..., its not a lack of respect. Instead, its the education system...or the influx of immigrants...or this...or that", I agree. There is a whole host of reasons as to why our society is as it is, but what is being done about it? Nothing.
Do we want to keep living like this? Are we going to sit back and wait for something horrific to happen until we start to fight for what we want? Well excuse me, but I am going to start now.
I want to live in a country that accepts me for who I am. I want to walk down the street and feel proud to be living here at any time of the day. I want a society that accepts everyone for who they are and what they want to be, and those that don't agree can either learn to or leave. I want to wake up in the morning and not worry that I might be beaten or even blown up on my way to work. But most important, I want to be happy and I want to be home. I can only hope that you do to.
Thursday, 12 June 2008
Thursday, 17 April 2008
Sderot or not?
Today has been a hell of a day, quite literally...hell
As part of my program which I am on at the moment (FZY/Young Judea Year Course), we are taken to different places around Israel to see what life is like for the locals and to really gain an insight into the culture here. Today Manhuigut (the third section on Year Course) went to visit the town of Sderot, which is located right next to the north of Gaza. And today, we came back from Sderot emotionally scared for the rest of our lives.
For those that are not aware, Israel occupied the area of Gaza until October 2005 when the government declared that Gaza was to be an independent state ruled by the Palestinian Authorities and so proceeded to disengage from the region. Since then, Hamas (an internationally recognised terrorist organisation which openly preaches about the destruction of not only the state of Israel, but the Jewish people as a nation), took over from Fatah (the leading Palestinian political party) with brute force and since that time, some 4000 rockets have been fired over Gaza's boarders into the land of Israel with the deliberate aim of killing as many innocent civilians as possible.
And we were going to visit the town next door.
I wasn't worried. I wasn't scared. I was just trying to prepare myself mentally and physically for what could happen. In my comfortable lodgings back in England, it obviously never entered my mind that Watford (my closest large town), would start firing "home-made" rockets from the roofs of its nurseries. I never bothered to imagine what it would be like to hear a siren wailing in Bushey (where I live), and I most certainly did not know how to deal with the fact that this siren meant I only had 15 seconds to run as fast as I could to the nearest bomb shelter.
...
Bomb shelter? The last time I ever heard the word bomb shelter was in year 9 history with Mr. Brown learning about the "Anderson Bomb Shelter" from the Second World War, and here I was now, plonk in the middle of an active war zone.
We arrived in Sderot and we were briefed quickly on what to do IF we heard the siren going off, but its okay, because there won't be rockets guys so its more of a "we HAVE to say it...JUST in case" but hey, loads of groups come down here and its fine.
Off the bus we jumped, and Noam our guide and apparent under cover SAS agent for the day introduced himself, and started with how at 5 in the morning today, Gaza sent 10 rockets over its boarders
GREAT!
We went to the police station, not because anyone was being arrested, but because at the back of the station the police collect all the kassam rockets which fall into sderot. What a sight. Two columns with three rows each piled full with Kassam rockets that have fallen since January...JANUARY! Thats only 3 months ago and there were nearly 500 rockets! It was a disturbing sight. It was easy to spot that the rockets are being made on a production line, and also that the rockets themselves are made from materials which are supposed to assist in promoting the infrastructure of Gaza (lampposts and waterpipes for example). You could see how the metal became bent and deformed on impact, and it was also obvious to see that they were stuffed with metal shrapnel just to kill that extra person standing no further than 100meters on impact.
After seeing all the rockets, I think we all realised that this was going to be a day quite like any other. As we left the police station, I noticed that instead of looking at where we were and trying to take everything in, I found myself obsessing myself with what I would do if I heard the "red alert" siren. Where would I run to within 15 seconds that could save my life, would everyone else be ok? What happens if there was nowhere to run to, do I just hide behind a wall and hope the rocket doesn't fall close to me? I could think about nothing else, and then I realised that I was only a visitor here. If I made it through the day in one piece, I had a home and safer place to go back to, the residents here didn't.
We headed towards a house that had been directly hit by a kassam rocket a month ago. As we walked through the gate into the front yard, we quite literally saw the entire contents of the house. Sofas, board games, beds, kitchen wear, everything. We then walked into the house. If my father would have been with me, he would have freaked, there was mess everywhere. The ceiling had collapsed in where the rocket had penitrated and exploded, the floor was covered with roof tiles, the ventilation system was hanging over our heads, and in the middle of the room sitting by a small wooden table stood an old lady. We were told that she was sitting exactly where she was (obviously she has moved since) when the rocket fell and hit the house. She was lucky to still be alive. Now she lives in 1 bedroom flat nearby. Every year this grandma has her whole family round for pessach. Her 7 kids and 22 grandchildren. This year, there is no possibly way she can accommodate them and she is devastated because of it. She cannot afford to move out of Sderot, but even if she could who would (in their right mind) want to buy her house.
After everything that we had seen so far, it was certainly time for lunch. And oh what a lunch time THIS was going to be. We were each given 20sheckels to grab a shwarma/falafel from the same restaurant and so after about 20 minutes, everybody was sitting down tucking into their food. Now I happened to be particularly hungry, so I though I would just pop across the road and grab some nosh for the ride home. As it turned out, the shop that I had seen from across the restaurant had also been hit by a missile, so when I walked into the shop the only thing I could find was water in the fridge. I headed back to the restaurant and ordered another shwarma (as I said, I was very hungry). Half way through my second shwarma the restaurant atmosphere changed within a split second. Now I hadn't heard (as I was too busy worrying about the best part of the pitta to eat next), but Sheldon had literally jumped up all the steps to the restaurant screamed "TZEDAH ADOM...TZEDAH ADOM" (RED ALERT...RED ALERT), and within a second everyone was up (12 seconds left...), then out the restaurant (9 seconds left), meanwhile I had only just sat up to see everyone running out the restaurant. At that particular moment, my mind had decided on its own accord to have a conversation with itself consiting of three things:
1) Do we stay here in the restaurant and try and hide. No because everyone else has gone
2) I guess that means that we should run and try to catch up and hope that we have enough time (8.57 seconds left)
And possibly worst of all, what is going to happen to the rest of my second shwarma!
I ran (8.50 seconds). My g-d I ran as fast as I could out the restaurant (8 seconds) down the steps (7.5 seconds) and across the road (5 seconds until impact). The problem was, not everyone could fit into the shelter. Now I didn't mind not getting in, but there was an old lady and a small child still running to the shelter. As they reached the entrance with 2 seconds to go, I literally stepped behind them with my back to the road and shoved them in as hard as I could to give them the best chance of surviving, if of course the rocket hit the road right in front of the entrance...a small probability, but still, there was a chance.
1.5 seconds
1 .4 seconds
This was taking forever
1
...
And then nothing.
...
Still nothing.
Was it safe? Where had the missile hit? What had it destroyed? After another minute or so, the residents of Sderot started to leave the shelter. ARE THEY CRAZY!
No, of course they aren't crazy, this happens to them a couple of times every day. Probably the most significant conversation that happened within the shelter was between two women around 60 years old:
1 - "Excuse me, I need to leave"
2 - "Just give it another minute or so"
1 - "No no, move, I need to catch my bus"
2 - "Stay! It is better to miss your bus than miss you life"
So there we have it, to them, this is an every day occurrence.
5 minutes passed, and I had no idea what had been going on inside the shelter as I was on the outside. As the group began to come out, I saw that many of my friends had been overwhelmed with panic, adrenaline and fear. Many of them were crying, faces white with uncertainty but what struck me most, was how we were no longer a group of year coursers. We were so much more. After experiencing what had just happened, all emotional barriers had been taken down, and everyone was there for one another. We all held each other up and comforted one another without question, and without thought.
Now to someone who hasn't experienced what we all did, this might sound truly pathetic and weak. Here we are, a group of 18/19 year olds crying our eyes out and shaking over something that the people living there experience on a daily basis.
Have you ever had to run for your life? Try doing that in 15 seconds?
After a short while, we continued our tour. Now this may seem somewhat dangerous, but Noam somehow was in touch with national security every few minutes and assured us that there was very little to worry about. We headed to the Sderot yeshiva and had a tour around for an hour or so. It was interesting to see how even though rockets fall everyday, they still build and build defiant to the danger that they face. The yeshiva is building quite a complex, and each of the walls to the place are 15inches thick! This is so that when the missiles fall, they don't have to worry about running away disturbing the study of torah.
Apres the yeshiva tour, we were going to have a summary video at the offices where Noam worked about life here in Sderot. We walked to the media center and as a we waited for everyone to settle down (as we were still recovering from the first missile attack), once again we hear the now familiar screams of "Tzedah Adom". This time however, we knew what to do. As the first of us started running out the room to find a shelter (13 seconds left), we heard cries of "COME BACK...DON'T LEAVE...STAY IN THE ROOM!" I screamed to Chubby and Daniella who had already left the building to run back. They came back in the room and we waited (10 seconds)...Then Noam sprinted through the front door, "Guys...quick...QUICK, we need to run to the bomb shelter...NOW...COME ON!"
"NO, NO! THEY STAY HERE" Shouted a lady who was working in the building we were in.
And so the argument went on (5 seconds left). "We stay" said Sheldon. How are we meant to get 30 of us into the nearest shelter in 5 seconds, was the question. We can't was the answer.
And then we heard a thud, as if someone had knocked their head on a wooden bench. All of a sudden, 60 ears pricked up and with them, the 30 heads that they belonged to.
Was that it? Was that the missile?
And then again...
TWO! There were two of them!
Quick quick...all of you, lets go! Sheldon was at the door telling us we needed to leave the building and make for the shelters. We ran again, like we had done before. The group split. About 10 of us ran with Sheldon to the shelter we were in exactly an hour previous, and the rest went with Ben to another shelter. Again emotions caught up and we realised what had just happened.
That was enough, it was time to go home. We couldn't go through with it anymore. We gave it another 5 minutes and ran to the bus, and headed off. I'm sure the viewpoint looking over Gaza could be looked up on google images, or some other internet program. For now, we just wanted to leave.
As if that wasn't enough, on the road out of Sderot, we passed something smoking. Sure enough, this was the first missile which had hit an hour earlier that we didn't hear. It was just amazing and truly a spectacle to see.
We didn't finish watching Charlie and the Chocolate Factory on the way back (the classic version of course), but I think that was fine with all of us. It was time to reflect on what had happened. It was time to realise that not only are we fortunate that we live in safety with security, that we were fortunate enough to be alive and it was now our turn to tell the story of Sderot.
As part of my program which I am on at the moment (FZY/Young Judea Year Course), we are taken to different places around Israel to see what life is like for the locals and to really gain an insight into the culture here. Today Manhuigut (the third section on Year Course) went to visit the town of Sderot, which is located right next to the north of Gaza. And today, we came back from Sderot emotionally scared for the rest of our lives.
For those that are not aware, Israel occupied the area of Gaza until October 2005 when the government declared that Gaza was to be an independent state ruled by the Palestinian Authorities and so proceeded to disengage from the region. Since then, Hamas (an internationally recognised terrorist organisation which openly preaches about the destruction of not only the state of Israel, but the Jewish people as a nation), took over from Fatah (the leading Palestinian political party) with brute force and since that time, some 4000 rockets have been fired over Gaza's boarders into the land of Israel with the deliberate aim of killing as many innocent civilians as possible.
And we were going to visit the town next door.
I wasn't worried. I wasn't scared. I was just trying to prepare myself mentally and physically for what could happen. In my comfortable lodgings back in England, it obviously never entered my mind that Watford (my closest large town), would start firing "home-made" rockets from the roofs of its nurseries. I never bothered to imagine what it would be like to hear a siren wailing in Bushey (where I live), and I most certainly did not know how to deal with the fact that this siren meant I only had 15 seconds to run as fast as I could to the nearest bomb shelter.
...
Bomb shelter? The last time I ever heard the word bomb shelter was in year 9 history with Mr. Brown learning about the "Anderson Bomb Shelter" from the Second World War, and here I was now, plonk in the middle of an active war zone.
We arrived in Sderot and we were briefed quickly on what to do IF we heard the siren going off, but its okay, because there won't be rockets guys so its more of a "we HAVE to say it...JUST in case" but hey, loads of groups come down here and its fine.
Off the bus we jumped, and Noam our guide and apparent under cover SAS agent for the day introduced himself, and started with how at 5 in the morning today, Gaza sent 10 rockets over its boarders
GREAT!
We went to the police station, not because anyone was being arrested, but because at the back of the station the police collect all the kassam rockets which fall into sderot. What a sight. Two columns with three rows each piled full with Kassam rockets that have fallen since January...JANUARY! Thats only 3 months ago and there were nearly 500 rockets! It was a disturbing sight. It was easy to spot that the rockets are being made on a production line, and also that the rockets themselves are made from materials which are supposed to assist in promoting the infrastructure of Gaza (lampposts and waterpipes for example). You could see how the metal became bent and deformed on impact, and it was also obvious to see that they were stuffed with metal shrapnel just to kill that extra person standing no further than 100meters on impact.
After seeing all the rockets, I think we all realised that this was going to be a day quite like any other. As we left the police station, I noticed that instead of looking at where we were and trying to take everything in, I found myself obsessing myself with what I would do if I heard the "red alert" siren. Where would I run to within 15 seconds that could save my life, would everyone else be ok? What happens if there was nowhere to run to, do I just hide behind a wall and hope the rocket doesn't fall close to me? I could think about nothing else, and then I realised that I was only a visitor here. If I made it through the day in one piece, I had a home and safer place to go back to, the residents here didn't.
We headed towards a house that had been directly hit by a kassam rocket a month ago. As we walked through the gate into the front yard, we quite literally saw the entire contents of the house. Sofas, board games, beds, kitchen wear, everything. We then walked into the house. If my father would have been with me, he would have freaked, there was mess everywhere. The ceiling had collapsed in where the rocket had penitrated and exploded, the floor was covered with roof tiles, the ventilation system was hanging over our heads, and in the middle of the room sitting by a small wooden table stood an old lady. We were told that she was sitting exactly where she was (obviously she has moved since) when the rocket fell and hit the house. She was lucky to still be alive. Now she lives in 1 bedroom flat nearby. Every year this grandma has her whole family round for pessach. Her 7 kids and 22 grandchildren. This year, there is no possibly way she can accommodate them and she is devastated because of it. She cannot afford to move out of Sderot, but even if she could who would (in their right mind) want to buy her house.
After everything that we had seen so far, it was certainly time for lunch. And oh what a lunch time THIS was going to be. We were each given 20sheckels to grab a shwarma/falafel from the same restaurant and so after about 20 minutes, everybody was sitting down tucking into their food. Now I happened to be particularly hungry, so I though I would just pop across the road and grab some nosh for the ride home. As it turned out, the shop that I had seen from across the restaurant had also been hit by a missile, so when I walked into the shop the only thing I could find was water in the fridge. I headed back to the restaurant and ordered another shwarma (as I said, I was very hungry). Half way through my second shwarma the restaurant atmosphere changed within a split second. Now I hadn't heard (as I was too busy worrying about the best part of the pitta to eat next), but Sheldon had literally jumped up all the steps to the restaurant screamed "TZEDAH ADOM...TZEDAH ADOM" (RED ALERT...RED ALERT), and within a second everyone was up (12 seconds left...), then out the restaurant (9 seconds left), meanwhile I had only just sat up to see everyone running out the restaurant. At that particular moment, my mind had decided on its own accord to have a conversation with itself consiting of three things:
1) Do we stay here in the restaurant and try and hide. No because everyone else has gone
2) I guess that means that we should run and try to catch up and hope that we have enough time (8.57 seconds left)
And possibly worst of all, what is going to happen to the rest of my second shwarma!
I ran (8.50 seconds). My g-d I ran as fast as I could out the restaurant (8 seconds) down the steps (7.5 seconds) and across the road (5 seconds until impact). The problem was, not everyone could fit into the shelter. Now I didn't mind not getting in, but there was an old lady and a small child still running to the shelter. As they reached the entrance with 2 seconds to go, I literally stepped behind them with my back to the road and shoved them in as hard as I could to give them the best chance of surviving, if of course the rocket hit the road right in front of the entrance...a small probability, but still, there was a chance.
1.5 seconds
1 .4 seconds
This was taking forever
1
...
And then nothing.
...
Still nothing.
Was it safe? Where had the missile hit? What had it destroyed? After another minute or so, the residents of Sderot started to leave the shelter. ARE THEY CRAZY!
No, of course they aren't crazy, this happens to them a couple of times every day. Probably the most significant conversation that happened within the shelter was between two women around 60 years old:
1 - "Excuse me, I need to leave"
2 - "Just give it another minute or so"
1 - "No no, move, I need to catch my bus"
2 - "Stay! It is better to miss your bus than miss you life"
So there we have it, to them, this is an every day occurrence.
5 minutes passed, and I had no idea what had been going on inside the shelter as I was on the outside. As the group began to come out, I saw that many of my friends had been overwhelmed with panic, adrenaline and fear. Many of them were crying, faces white with uncertainty but what struck me most, was how we were no longer a group of year coursers. We were so much more. After experiencing what had just happened, all emotional barriers had been taken down, and everyone was there for one another. We all held each other up and comforted one another without question, and without thought.
Now to someone who hasn't experienced what we all did, this might sound truly pathetic and weak. Here we are, a group of 18/19 year olds crying our eyes out and shaking over something that the people living there experience on a daily basis.
Have you ever had to run for your life? Try doing that in 15 seconds?
After a short while, we continued our tour. Now this may seem somewhat dangerous, but Noam somehow was in touch with national security every few minutes and assured us that there was very little to worry about. We headed to the Sderot yeshiva and had a tour around for an hour or so. It was interesting to see how even though rockets fall everyday, they still build and build defiant to the danger that they face. The yeshiva is building quite a complex, and each of the walls to the place are 15inches thick! This is so that when the missiles fall, they don't have to worry about running away disturbing the study of torah.
Apres the yeshiva tour, we were going to have a summary video at the offices where Noam worked about life here in Sderot. We walked to the media center and as a we waited for everyone to settle down (as we were still recovering from the first missile attack), once again we hear the now familiar screams of "Tzedah Adom". This time however, we knew what to do. As the first of us started running out the room to find a shelter (13 seconds left), we heard cries of "COME BACK...DON'T LEAVE...STAY IN THE ROOM!" I screamed to Chubby and Daniella who had already left the building to run back. They came back in the room and we waited (10 seconds)...Then Noam sprinted through the front door, "Guys...quick...QUICK, we need to run to the bomb shelter...NOW...COME ON!"
"NO, NO! THEY STAY HERE" Shouted a lady who was working in the building we were in.
And so the argument went on (5 seconds left). "We stay" said Sheldon. How are we meant to get 30 of us into the nearest shelter in 5 seconds, was the question. We can't was the answer.
And then we heard a thud, as if someone had knocked their head on a wooden bench. All of a sudden, 60 ears pricked up and with them, the 30 heads that they belonged to.
Was that it? Was that the missile?
And then again...
TWO! There were two of them!
Quick quick...all of you, lets go! Sheldon was at the door telling us we needed to leave the building and make for the shelters. We ran again, like we had done before. The group split. About 10 of us ran with Sheldon to the shelter we were in exactly an hour previous, and the rest went with Ben to another shelter. Again emotions caught up and we realised what had just happened.
That was enough, it was time to go home. We couldn't go through with it anymore. We gave it another 5 minutes and ran to the bus, and headed off. I'm sure the viewpoint looking over Gaza could be looked up on google images, or some other internet program. For now, we just wanted to leave.
As if that wasn't enough, on the road out of Sderot, we passed something smoking. Sure enough, this was the first missile which had hit an hour earlier that we didn't hear. It was just amazing and truly a spectacle to see.
We didn't finish watching Charlie and the Chocolate Factory on the way back (the classic version of course), but I think that was fine with all of us. It was time to reflect on what had happened. It was time to realise that not only are we fortunate that we live in safety with security, that we were fortunate enough to be alive and it was now our turn to tell the story of Sderot.
Tuesday, 25 March 2008
The (fourth or fifth) First Blog
Friends, Bloggers, Readers
So I'm back again.
Granted that could be rather confusing for anyone other than myself seeing as this is in actual fact the first article that I have ever published, but if I can be so bold as to ask you to trust me at such an early stage within our strange relationship, I have indeed written many many articles, I have just actually never finished one.
I guess (okay, so I know), that quitting half way through something tells quite a bit about a person, but then we HAVE to ask ourselves, is it actually half way? I mean if you stop before you finished, you have absolutely 100% (times a million) no idea where the end actually is. Unless you already know how you want to end it OR if there is no end, in which case quitting half way through could be the end therefore removing not only the half way through, but replacing the quitting with finished...I forget what point I was trying to make anyway...if there was a point in the first place (which would mean I haven’t forgotten anything anyway etc etc).
Today I need your help. I need you to come up with my career. What the hell am I going to do with my life? I want a family. Yes yes okay, so everybody wants a family, but some people don’t, so I thought I would just put that out there. I want to be able to have enough money to do the things that I enjoy. Who doesn’t? More importantly I want my family to not have to worry about money. It is very easy to say well money doesn’t matter! You can be happy without money! Whoopdeedoo, yes we can have a jolly old time without money, but I don’t plan on playing thumb-wars and rock-paper-scissors until I die. It is therefore quite acceptable (in my eyes) to say that the things I want to do and like doing cost money.
There IS a conflict though, and I believe it comes down to three things; money, happiness and time. As fate has had it, these three things all seem to be in a perplexual state of war against each other. It’s like having Muhammad Ali, the KKK and Hitler all going at it in a caged boxing ring, with no gloves and with the audience not wanting any of them to be knocked out. If these is too confusing I will try to simplify it.
-If money gets knocked out, we go broke and nobody likes that, not even brokers
-If happiness gets knocked out, we all get unhappy. Apart from my old deputy head-master, I have never met anyone else who gained pleasure from witnessing unhappiness (oh the irony)
-If time unfortunately is finished...well I would like to not discuss death right at this present moment (not for any particular reason, I just don’t want to).
So as you can see, we have ourselves quite the problem. Somehow we have to juggle money, time and happiness and if we do it right, I personally believe this is how we end up living the "perfect life". Now before you get all jumpy and defensive, I am not saying that there is only one way to do this, no, no, these three ingredients measure differently for each person.
So I think now (if its okay, which it is because I am the one writing) I would rather leave my career aspirations for another day. Perhaps instead I will think for myself how my boxing match will turn out, and how (if there is a way) I will be able to look back on my life with satisfaction and leave with a smile knowing thats thats exactly what I wanted...although, that stage is far...far...away
So I'm back again.
Granted that could be rather confusing for anyone other than myself seeing as this is in actual fact the first article that I have ever published, but if I can be so bold as to ask you to trust me at such an early stage within our strange relationship, I have indeed written many many articles, I have just actually never finished one.
I guess (okay, so I know), that quitting half way through something tells quite a bit about a person, but then we HAVE to ask ourselves, is it actually half way? I mean if you stop before you finished, you have absolutely 100% (times a million) no idea where the end actually is. Unless you already know how you want to end it OR if there is no end, in which case quitting half way through could be the end therefore removing not only the half way through, but replacing the quitting with finished...I forget what point I was trying to make anyway...if there was a point in the first place (which would mean I haven’t forgotten anything anyway etc etc).
Today I need your help. I need you to come up with my career. What the hell am I going to do with my life? I want a family. Yes yes okay, so everybody wants a family, but some people don’t, so I thought I would just put that out there. I want to be able to have enough money to do the things that I enjoy. Who doesn’t? More importantly I want my family to not have to worry about money. It is very easy to say well money doesn’t matter! You can be happy without money! Whoopdeedoo, yes we can have a jolly old time without money, but I don’t plan on playing thumb-wars and rock-paper-scissors until I die. It is therefore quite acceptable (in my eyes) to say that the things I want to do and like doing cost money.
There IS a conflict though, and I believe it comes down to three things; money, happiness and time. As fate has had it, these three things all seem to be in a perplexual state of war against each other. It’s like having Muhammad Ali, the KKK and Hitler all going at it in a caged boxing ring, with no gloves and with the audience not wanting any of them to be knocked out. If these is too confusing I will try to simplify it.
-If money gets knocked out, we go broke and nobody likes that, not even brokers
-If happiness gets knocked out, we all get unhappy. Apart from my old deputy head-master, I have never met anyone else who gained pleasure from witnessing unhappiness (oh the irony)
-If time unfortunately is finished...well I would like to not discuss death right at this present moment (not for any particular reason, I just don’t want to).
So as you can see, we have ourselves quite the problem. Somehow we have to juggle money, time and happiness and if we do it right, I personally believe this is how we end up living the "perfect life". Now before you get all jumpy and defensive, I am not saying that there is only one way to do this, no, no, these three ingredients measure differently for each person.
So I think now (if its okay, which it is because I am the one writing) I would rather leave my career aspirations for another day. Perhaps instead I will think for myself how my boxing match will turn out, and how (if there is a way) I will be able to look back on my life with satisfaction and leave with a smile knowing thats thats exactly what I wanted...although, that stage is far...far...away
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