It was Nietzche who has been paraphrased (most notably in "Steel Magnolias") as saying "that which does not kill us makes us stronger." He was a cynical son-of-a-bitch, though. Spent way too much time analyzing his existential angst (even though it would take the French a few more decades to invent that--he was ahead of his time).
I love taking pot shots at philosophers, 'cause they're all full of hoo-ey. Collectively, they've generated enough hot air to power several small cities until God comes back.
Once that happens, I guess you don't really need the power.
My theory is that, the older we get and the more relationships we have and the more we have invested in our lives, the more we have at stake. In many ways we measure our lives in terms of what we have to lose, and what we have to lose tends to increase over time. And making sure we don't lose what we have takes a little more time every time we add one of those things to the list.
A bit convoluted, I admit. But it's the closest I can come to making sense out of the universe. What with inept politicians posing as leaders (a city in Vermont wants to be able to arrest Bush and Cheney on war crimes charges), the cost of living not even keeping close to real earnings and the construction at Northcross Mall making it impossible for me to keep my car clean (she's my baby, and the dust that blows off that site is not treating her kindly), the best I can figure is to muddle on. Through the muck. Through the mire. Through the forces that don't want you to be happy.
Life is a challenge, I know. It's tried its best to keep me down. I've had my rounds with depression and stupidity but have lived through them. There have been times I've contemplated suicide, but realized that, in the end, I had too much to live for.
That's when I adopted the Scarlett O'Hara principle of crisis (and time) management: "I'll think about it tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is another day."
Who'd a' thunk that a British actress using a bad Southern accent could crystalize such a response to Nietzche?
And tomorrow is another day. One to have with the people we love, and one to miss and love the ones who aren't here physically any more. I have a small collection of the latter and a larger collection of the former.
As I grow older, that balance may shift. It's the price of out-living other people.
I love taking pot shots at philosophers, 'cause they're all full of hoo-ey. Collectively, they've generated enough hot air to power several small cities until God comes back.
Once that happens, I guess you don't really need the power.
My theory is that, the older we get and the more relationships we have and the more we have invested in our lives, the more we have at stake. In many ways we measure our lives in terms of what we have to lose, and what we have to lose tends to increase over time. And making sure we don't lose what we have takes a little more time every time we add one of those things to the list.
A bit convoluted, I admit. But it's the closest I can come to making sense out of the universe. What with inept politicians posing as leaders (a city in Vermont wants to be able to arrest Bush and Cheney on war crimes charges), the cost of living not even keeping close to real earnings and the construction at Northcross Mall making it impossible for me to keep my car clean (she's my baby, and the dust that blows off that site is not treating her kindly), the best I can figure is to muddle on. Through the muck. Through the mire. Through the forces that don't want you to be happy.
Life is a challenge, I know. It's tried its best to keep me down. I've had my rounds with depression and stupidity but have lived through them. There have been times I've contemplated suicide, but realized that, in the end, I had too much to live for.
That's when I adopted the Scarlett O'Hara principle of crisis (and time) management: "I'll think about it tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is another day."
Who'd a' thunk that a British actress using a bad Southern accent could crystalize such a response to Nietzche?
And tomorrow is another day. One to have with the people we love, and one to miss and love the ones who aren't here physically any more. I have a small collection of the latter and a larger collection of the former.
As I grow older, that balance may shift. It's the price of out-living other people.
But tomorrow really is another day, full of promise and possibility. It's usually us that inhibits its achieving its full measure.
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