Saturday, June 24, 2017
A Sentence Finisher hr595
I don’t like someone to tell me what I’ve already said or known. There’s
no such thing as copyright to what we utter, but I always feel like
claiming it. Actually, I often urge people close to me to admit I’ve
already said what they just said. It doesn’t matter how ridiculously
trivial the issue is. As long as I recognize I’ve said the same thing
before, I declare that I’ve said it before they said it. Even when I
haven’t said it but known it, I can’t help telling them that I’ve known
that. It’s impossible for me to hear through something pretending that I
hear that for the first time or I didn’t know that. My mouth
involuntarily utters “I’ve already said it!” or “I know it!” I’ve had
this irksome habit since I was little. Suppose I said to my mother,
“It’ll be hot tomorrow, I’ll wear summer clothes.” Next morning, when my
mother said, “It’ll be hot today and I put out your summer clothes,” I
instantaneously claimed, “That’s what I said yesterday!” She would go,
“Is it?” And I would go, “Sure it is! I said that! You should add ‘as
you said’!” If I’d heard the weather forecast for rain and my mother
said “It’s going to rain today,” I said, “I know!” at once. As such an
annoying child like that, I gave my parents painful conversations when
they inadvertently touched what I had said or known and forgot to add
‘as you said’ or ‘you may know’. Their experiences must have been so
torturous that my father still hastily adds, “As you said,” when he
talks to me to this day. It seems my childhood practice caused him a
trauma and he sometimes adds ‘as you said’ to what I haven’t said. My
terrible habit hasn’t subsided, it has, rather, aggravated to sentence
finishing. Now I anticipate what someone is going to say and want to say
it before she or he actually says it. I just simply can’t wait for them
to finish once I make out what’s coming. For instance, my partner
begins, “Tomorrow, I’ll…” and I interrupt him, ‘Go to the convenience
store to make a payment for something, right?” The problem is I’m more
than often wrong. My partner answers, “Yeah, that reminds me,” and he
forgets what he was really going to say. My interruptions make our
conversations unnecessarily long and cumbersome. It appears that I want
to be ahead of everything by showing that I know everything beforehand.
And that’s all because I want to appeal how smart I am. No wonder I’ve
been disliked by anyone, including my own blood relatives. Of course I
can imagine there are numerous other reasons for that particular matter…
Saturday, June 10, 2017
A 1000-Year Life Expectancy hr594
I’ve heard some scientists and science-fiction writers say the average
life expectancy of humans will get even longer fast and we could soon
live up to 1000 years old. If it’s true, it’s a huge game changer.
Supposing I live until 1000 years old, the shape of my life will be
entirely different as of today. First of all, the pace of living will
get slower. I won’t have to hasten anything since I’ve still got more
than 900 years left. I won’t fuss over the quick completion of my new
song for which I’ve been deep into mastering. When I complete it without
hurry, I will move on to another song and take plentiful time to finish
it again. Even such a slow worker like me can stock ample songs in over
900 years. With that duration of time and the number of songs, the odds
can be better that one of my songs could be found by some chance and be
a smash hit, which will make me a celebrity and lead me to Monaco to
live in. Secondly, I will be freed from fear of aging. I seriously
resist getting old, sometimes quite hysterically. Of course no one likes
to see their skin sagging and all wrinkled. But when I see my
deteriorating looks, I feel a deadline for making my dreams come true.
Getting older means getting closer to the deadline for whatever we
haven’t yet achieved. The sense that we might not make it is dreadful if
we have something to accomplish. Now that the deadline is well over 900
years away, how peaceful I can feel for the moment! I don’t have to
pronounce my dreams dead just yet. The day could come when I see people
all around the world listen to and hum my songs. If I moved in Monaco at
the age of 300, I could live there for almost 700 years. In the course
of 1000 years, it could become a common practice that a human body is
replaced by a cyborg. Aging could be extinct. I could be a ballerina as I
dreamed of when I was a child. Or, I would be the president of the
united world when I’m 500 years old. As a simpler alternative, I could
win the lottery before I die, since the odds turn good with the
innumerable lotto strips I will get in over 900 years. That could give
me a come-from-behind fortune. By making a smart investment of it, I
could end my life as a team owner of Formula One. It seems anything is
possible once I have 1000 years. This rapture is weirdly familiar to me.
My grandfather. He had the habit of saying he would live until 100
years old when I was little. Back then, not so many people lived so long
and everyone of my family used to scoff at him. Although he couldn’t
reach 100 but died at 96 years old, it was close enough to his fantasy
goal. In that respect, I could go as far as 900. But I noticed a long
life expectancy is not necessarily all good. Life requires money. I’ve
made ends meet with bare life so far in my life. As anything is
possible, it’s also possible this state continues as long as I live.
1000 years of financial worries? It definitely sounds like a living
hell…
Labels:
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