Bookmark #807

To be capable of admitting you do not know something is a blessing rationed over humanity. Perhaps, as babies lie in the newborn nursery in hospitals, a fairy flies in and showers them at random with sparkles and dust. Perhaps that is the crucial event which decides the course of their lives, who they will be as people, but most importantly, the angst and frustration they spawn in those around them. Sometimes, I like to believe this so I can tolerate the antics without changing my opinion of them, but then, I remember that fairies do not exist, and it is very much their own fault that it is, more or less, a garden of misery around them.

But enough about others, what do I know why people do what they do? All I know is that I woke up earlier, around ten or so, and then I went back to sleep. It is on days like these, when the air is light, when my shoulders are drooping as I make a cup of coffee, when the sun has already completed its first shift of the day like a diligent employee always on time, that I feel there are no complaints I have with life. I get to work on things I do not particularly detest. I get to find time to write. And every week, I get at least one day when I can wake up impossibly, inhumanly late. What else would I want from life? Well, a lot more now that I have materialised this question. But then, the heart never knows to stop. So, I see this life as a good bargain. It could have been much worse. If anything, I could have become someone who does not know to say, ā€œI do not know much about that; can you tell me more? ā€

All things considered, this afternoon, with its golden glow on everything it can touch, even remotely lay a little speck of light on, reassures me. Things have turned out as well as they could have. Now, to get ready and face whatever is left of the day. Perhaps, read a bit or exercise a little. It is a personal pleasure, if there ever was one, that there are always things to do in life, and when they are done, there are more things I know nothing about.

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