Thursday 3 November 2011

what doesn't kill you makes you fat.

i just stumbled upon something i wrote when i was on the way back from malaysia in january, and thought it quite relevant to post now:

i wonder if it's better to be realistic or idealistic. on the one hand, realism keeps expectations in check, it means you're less likely to be disappointed. but on the other hand, idealism enables you to dream and to believe that dreams do come true.

there's more to lose by being idealistic - or isn't there? you 'lose' more simply because you hope for more, but if you don't imagine the seemingly impossible, isn't that 'losing' too? because there's a lot less of a chance that you may one day realise the seemingly impossible? but maybe that's what it is - maybe you don't feel like you lose as much simply because you don't know that you're missing out. a case of ignorance being bliss.

but once you've experienced the ideal - the dream, the seemingly impossible that you had stopped yourself from desiring, it's hard to go back. you begin to worry that if you start being realistic, you'll destroy the magic. maybe if you continue being idealistic, the dream will continue, because now you would be working with destiny instead of telling destiny what it can and cannot do.

but then what happens if the ideal is not meant to last? if the dream is really more a daydream, and you're meant to enjoy it for a while and then go back to reality? what if going back to being realistic is the way to keep the ideal going?

is it possible to be realistic and idealistic, at the same time?

I

The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea green boat,
They took some honey, and plenty of money,
Wrapped up in a five pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
'O lovely Pussy! O Pussy my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are,
You are,
You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!'


II

Pussy said to the Owl, 'You elegant fowl!
How charmingly sweet you sing!
O let us be married! too long we have tarried:
But what shall we do for a ring?'
They sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the Bong-tree grows
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood
With a ring at the end of his nose,
His nose,
His nose,
With a ring at the end of his nose.

III

'Dear pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
Your ring?' Said the Piggy, 'I will.'
So they took it away, and were married next day
By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.

- the owl and the pussycat, edward lear.

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