Sunday, January 8, 2012
In this thought-provoking book, there's a part where Guy, the main character, is addressing his wife. He says, "Let you alone!? That's all very well, but how can I leave myself alone? We need not to be let alone. We need to be really bothered once in a while. How long is it since you were really bothered? About something important, about something real?"
Good question. It's good to be content, but a discontent with things that are wrong will spur on greater action. It's the opposite of remaining indifferent. That's the kind of discontent Guy was referring to. It makes you stop and think. It can make you angry with injustice. It may produce courage. When was the last time we were really bothered?
Fahrenheit 451 portrays a world where nobody questions anything. They sit idle and go with the flow. Everything is upside down, and nobody remembers the goodness of the past. Without as much as a blink, the characters blindly embrace whatever erroneous notions are handed to them.
Guy Montag was not an exception, until, one day, he met a young girl who shattered all he thought he knew. "Are you happy?" she innocently asked. This particular question deeply shook him. Turning another building into a pile of ash felt less disturbing than to answer that.
Triggering a multitude of other inquiries on his part, this question seemed to reveal the tunnel that would lead to clarity.
Yeah, you all should read this. Sadly, it reminds me of a world I know.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
My useless ability to inadvertently distract myself can be frustrating. It's sure not helpful when I'm sitting in algebra, listening to a lecture about how graphing can change your life, and seeping into a reverie regarding something that is possibly more vital than math.
That can be a problem. The sum of everything is that I get distracted by people in the class and start wondering who they are outside of class, what they're really up to, and if they're possibly incognito or actually themselves. Consequently, my curiosity multiplies. Add it all up, and I've learned half of what I was supposed to.
Blame it on my bookishness growing up [and to this day], but it's what forces me to be easily ensnared by my imagination. Now, I don't use it for nonsense like imagining about boys and such, but about places, stories and people.
Recently, I was pondering about what it'd be like to have grown up in a different place. No offense Washington.
But, I wonder what it would be like to grow up in Maine where you can explore lighthouses, learn how to sail, and enjoy many ripe blueberries and various lobster dishes. Or in Alaska, I'd live in an igloo or join a Native tribe [with my parent's consent], and marvel at the aurora borealis. England would be so swell too.
Point being, there's a myriad of cool places to have grown up in. The list goes on.
Where would you have wanted to grow up and why?