Saturday, 22 September 2012

Life Speed

A piece of unused (& frankly terrible) dialogue from Aftermaths, an abandoned short film I wrote back in 2006/7:
 
“Ever notice how basketballs look like the sun? That golden sphere, it’s a symbol, of our own mortality – a sign of how short our lives really are. A lifetime to us is barely a blink of the eye to the sun.”
As flawed as that may be, it’s kinda true. We’re just passer-by’s in the lifetime of this universe.
Life is precious, and too often I forget that. Well, we all do – it’s the curse of the living I suppose.
Every now and then, a moment catches up with me and demands I stop and think about the ‘big’ things in life – and question how I’m using my own existence.
This being my latest thought-
Too often I stress that I’m not at the same level as somebody else; as if competing in a grand life athletics race. I forget the important factor – it’s all about speed you run.
My sister Donna has beat me to having a baby, and I’ve used this blog to bemoan that fact. Fact is, she didn’t ‘beat’ me (what a terribly macho thing to cite) – she’s merely running faster than me, and I confuse that as a race.
Why do we compete with one another? Why don’t we just accept that things just happen when they happen?
I look at other people, and they often celebrate moments before I do – whether that’s new fashions that I’m late to joining, or new ideas that others have revolutionised. Too often I watch others make advances, and I follow in their footsteps.
Thing is, I’m not an innovator. I’m not up-to-speed on a lot of things, from fashion to gadgets. I’m good at what I’m good at; but even then other people often tell me about film/television first (internet/magazines/actual people).
So the question becomes this:
How does a 23 year old go from being a passive person, who receives their information and views on the world through other people’s pass-me-down reports, become an innovator?
At the same time, how do I stop hating the fact that others ‘beat’ me?
I’m not sure.
Answers on a postcard, please.

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