Overhauling A Cliché
|Time Flies by Neal|
The button I'm dreading to push is the one that bites me- my reality, in its barest essence, stripped off of my ego and all of its romantic sugarcoats. The reality that I'm not spared to get my hands dirty (if I have to or I really need to). I have this self-notion that I'm actually smart or at least that's what the pedagogical institution where I came from made me believe. But the world is tricky and is far more complicated than the book. I may not be as smart as I think after all.
The reality is I'm still a novice, despite all these years, in this university called life (ergo, a piercing stab in my ego). But I see it now. I've realized that I don't need to be politically-correct or morally/ethically-guarded at all times. I've seen so many crooks made it through the straight line which never fail to titillate my already unamused gag reflex. Surprisingly, they can get away with it. Hence, my long-standing but achingly banal and rhetorical question: Where's justice to it?! However, I've realized, these crooks are not merely one-dimensional characters we see of typical villains from movies. Mostly their motivations are circumstantial brought by harsh realities of life, which obviously I'm also not spared of; which my ego has so slyly tranced me into self-denial. These crooks are real people only maybe one or two degrees separated from my sugar-coated life. They live by the now, by their instincts. No bloated ego to answer to. It's actually efficient. Time flies. And I have yet to establish a common ground where my ideals and the reality may meet comfortably. Or should I just go by my instincts just like the rest of the crooks? Maybe I'm a closeted crook?! This ego has definitely turned me into a very confused nutcase!
The recent and unexpected demise of my beloved mom made me realize how little time I had to deliver the goods, how all my promises turned hallow. Perhaps, one of my biggest regrets, which I've mentioned on my previous post, is not taking chances to risk it all to afford better life for her.
Maybe, now is the perfect time to get a fresher perspective of a time-tested cliché. Time is gold, sure. But maybe the gold can be overhauled and dissected into 86,400 seconds/$ a day, renewable but ironically non-recycable. Maybe it's time to burst the bubble that my ego has inflated for so long and protected me for so many wrong reasons. Maybe I gotta hear more from Elvis of the ghetto.