As far as people are concerned, I’ve found “don’t judge a book by it’s cover” to be a good rule of thumb to go by. Not because people aren’t what they seem, but because people are like notebooks, and their contents keep changing.
At the end of the day, we are but the products of our superiors’ mood swings…
I feel that you become an adult, when just knowing those you care for are safe and happy, is enough to pull you through a bad day…
As far as speaking is concerned, if you cannot be encouraging, informative, inquisitive, or at least entertaining, it’s probably better to stay quiet.
I find something inherently wrong about a world in which rudeness is such a norm that people show genuine gratitude for polite behaviour.
When you lose someone close, really early in life, you aren’t exactly left with a treasure trove of memories and, after over a decade has passed, you can’t even rely on the few you do have.
What does remain, are a lot of emotion-tinged questions, to which you know you will never find actual answers, like a deep-seated itch you can’t get rid off, no matter how hard you scratch.
I cannot perfectly remember him, just his features, his voice, and his general personality.
I remember he had a very different way of looking at things, and would almost always have something interesting to say.
I remember that he was caring, to the point of being self-sacrificial, just to make others’ lives a little easier.
I remember that he’d never ceased to be a gentleman.
I remember how he didn’t even carry a grudge long enough to warrant forgiveness.
I remember that he’d never judged without actual evidence, or without listening to all sides of an argument.
I remember that he’d almost never raised his voice.
At this point, I just have a lot of questions…
I wonder what he’d have to say about my life choices.
I wonder what it would have been like, for him to have attended my graduation.
I wonder exactly what he’d say about my failures.
I wonder how he’d take the fact that both of his children have somehow inherited his strange way of looking at things and, with it, his wit and sense of humour.
And, more than anything else, I wonder what having an actual, adult conversation with him would have been like.
I’ve found that I can lead a reasonably happy, acceptably efficient life, as long as the company I keep is more or less balanced between the number of people who frequently criticise me, and those who frequently tell me I’m awesome.
Life is just too short, and too complicated, to tackle without a decent sense of humour. With it, you can place a seemingly large problem, place it in the proper perspective, and laugh about it.
An integral part of becoming an adult is the realisation that you can be neither a complete optimist, nor a complete pessimist.
Optimists are barely able to survive, while pessimists are barely able to live.