Steeped in ennui for the time being.
Emotional ennui, that is. Be it kunstlerroman, bildungsroman, whatever, I just see no space for emotional
growth for now.
Must emotional growth (“sentimental education”?) take
place with the necessity of pain, rejection, disappointment?
Must it come about with ennui, tedium, the same ol’ life that is as repetitive as it is ever-changing?
Must it necessitate taking risks, making an effort to
be different, taking new perspectives of things?
Do I need attention? Or am I better off living with
myself? Do I need a social life? Or can I do better without? Am I a better and
happier person if I have more time to sleep everyday? Would I be a better and
happier person if I spend more time at watering holes filling my bloodstream
with the spirits of happiness?
Too many questions, too little answers. Will
I do better not to think about all these questions, and keep on trying to think
of answers?
Where’s the bildungsroman going
to come from then? Where’s the epiphanies going to
come from? How would I learn?
dejectium out
09 may 2005
0153 hrs gmt +7