In recent times I've had to come to terms with the obvious facts that nothing I've established has any credibility. For example, the people I assumed to be blockheads were, in fact, highly intelligent and sensitive gentlemen, but they knew as well as I do now that when you're young, there's no point in being so rigid and uptight about things anyway. To hold back is to invite misery - all too true on my part.
And backstabbing, now there's a complex business. Nobody means to do it, but everybody is somehow guilty - after all, he of malicious intent would be better off coming after the accused with a knife, right? We generally don't mean to hurt people, but because of our triggerhappy judgements based on singular incidents, it becomes like a reflex.
If only Perfect Information existed, if not for the economic utopia it'd bring, then for the tales of pettiness we'd save ourselves from.
I'm not prepared for the party on Saturday. Upon touchdown of the flight home from Taipei, Charles is sending a barrage of messages about the availability of "one of my houses". For God's sake, I don't own them! I can't even control availability of the house I live in, why are we talking about condominiums that the Empress Dowager (golly I haven't used that name in a long time) lords over?
But whatever. The deal's done, the place is set, only the logistics are left. Geez... before the SAF, I never knew logistics could be such a bloody big mess. Or is it part of Growing Up again?
posted by Brian @ 12:13 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
» Home