Opportunity Costs
You can get used to anything, really. Even pain and suffering, heartaches and loneliness.
When my friend's sister had a break up, my friend gave her 2 pieces of advice - instructions rather: a. do not stay single too long; b. she was not allowed to own more than one cat. Apparently once you get used to the idea of being alone, which of course has its upsides, too, you come to think it's quite alright, and rather save the heartache or face potential failure. If you write out the pros and cons in both situations, neither list would mean anything because you can't really measure emotions logically, can you?
It's upsetting to think about the idea of meeting people. It seems so easy, but then it really isn't. See, the tricky part is to having to meet the right people, at the right times, at the right places. You can meet Joe Blow down the street at the corner whom you pass by every day to the bus station. Occasionally, you'll exchange a glance. Then, it's a nod and a smile. Slowly, he would come over to the bus station and chat with you about random little things while you wait for your bus to arrive. Just like that. Every day. But it ain't mean shit. Because Joe Blow may possibly be the nicest, smartest person in the whole wide world. But he's probably not right for you. This "relationship" is circumstantial. And if one day you realized he's no longer there at the corner, you'd think, "I wonder whatever happened to Joe." You would go and tell stories about your conversations. And people would say, "He sounds cool." And that's about it.
You see, there is just nothing substantial about your relationship with Joe. Because if one day you ran out of things to talk about, you might not feel inclined enough to build other experience with him to continue this so-called friendship. You might even help him out once or twice with some change, or bring him a cup of coffee and a donut, but then you're never sure if you could really take it further than that. The cost stays relatively low; so does the risk factor.
So everything has a cost - a relative one - a risk factor, and that is completely contingent on what really matters to you at the time - meaning your priorities at the time; and what are you willing to forgo to get there. Priorities shift from time to time because different things feel different from time to time. Relationships are constantly in flux as you attempt to balance everything "important" in life. Family relationships should be a given. But it's not. Friendships should be relevant. But then sometimes it's not. It's easy to think you need to do whatever it takes to make the person you love happy at all times. But then you think about self-interest, and the fact that others only matter to you because you make it so. It is so easy to forsake others. But it's never really that easy to forsake yourself. Because the importance of everything else changes. And at the end all you have is yourself. Each opportunity cost something. Each opportunity has its price.
It is not actually that easy to meet people then. To find the right kind of good - the right kind of good for you at the time you need it. I've said that people were good to me, maybe even good for me. But they weren't right, and so it didn't matter. It has to be the right kind of good. Because anything else outside of it would be too much - it's unwelcomed, under-appreciated; and the most that could be reciprocated is out of sympathy or responsibility - or worse yet, guilt (which is the combination of both).
And most importantly, it has to substantiate - in the ever changing world.
So is it just a numbers game? There are billions of people in the world, and what with our current information and communication technology, you're bound to meet someone meant for you. But then even if it is, where on earth do you meet these people? I live in the Silicon Valley where there is a plentitude of men. but I don't see them. E lives in colorful NYC; she doesn't see them. The numbers game? That's bullsh*t.
I sit around, and I wait for things to happen. Because I'm a firm believer that you'll find things when you least expect them. E, on the other hand, was out and about and did everything under the sky to meet people in the densest city in the United States. Neither one of us have had much luck. So we wait. So we hope. So there's everything there is to it.
Can you create opportunities? Just flat out be vulnerable and go for it? Go for everything? I'm not sure that works either.
Maybe there's such idiotic thing we call fate.
No. 'Cause that's bullshit, too.
So I've been complaining this whole time about the single notion of loneliness. And there's not much else I can say about it. I was trying to end this passage on a positive note. But now I'm just drunk, and I can't think anymore.
Going back to the story of the man at the corner. Ever think about what he thought about you upon his departure? He might have thought, "Oh, I remember her. She was a nice gal."
The End.
When my friend's sister had a break up, my friend gave her 2 pieces of advice - instructions rather: a. do not stay single too long; b. she was not allowed to own more than one cat. Apparently once you get used to the idea of being alone, which of course has its upsides, too, you come to think it's quite alright, and rather save the heartache or face potential failure. If you write out the pros and cons in both situations, neither list would mean anything because you can't really measure emotions logically, can you?
It's upsetting to think about the idea of meeting people. It seems so easy, but then it really isn't. See, the tricky part is to having to meet the right people, at the right times, at the right places. You can meet Joe Blow down the street at the corner whom you pass by every day to the bus station. Occasionally, you'll exchange a glance. Then, it's a nod and a smile. Slowly, he would come over to the bus station and chat with you about random little things while you wait for your bus to arrive. Just like that. Every day. But it ain't mean shit. Because Joe Blow may possibly be the nicest, smartest person in the whole wide world. But he's probably not right for you. This "relationship" is circumstantial. And if one day you realized he's no longer there at the corner, you'd think, "I wonder whatever happened to Joe." You would go and tell stories about your conversations. And people would say, "He sounds cool." And that's about it.
You see, there is just nothing substantial about your relationship with Joe. Because if one day you ran out of things to talk about, you might not feel inclined enough to build other experience with him to continue this so-called friendship. You might even help him out once or twice with some change, or bring him a cup of coffee and a donut, but then you're never sure if you could really take it further than that. The cost stays relatively low; so does the risk factor.
So everything has a cost - a relative one - a risk factor, and that is completely contingent on what really matters to you at the time - meaning your priorities at the time; and what are you willing to forgo to get there. Priorities shift from time to time because different things feel different from time to time. Relationships are constantly in flux as you attempt to balance everything "important" in life. Family relationships should be a given. But it's not. Friendships should be relevant. But then sometimes it's not. It's easy to think you need to do whatever it takes to make the person you love happy at all times. But then you think about self-interest, and the fact that others only matter to you because you make it so. It is so easy to forsake others. But it's never really that easy to forsake yourself. Because the importance of everything else changes. And at the end all you have is yourself. Each opportunity cost something. Each opportunity has its price.
It is not actually that easy to meet people then. To find the right kind of good - the right kind of good for you at the time you need it. I've said that people were good to me, maybe even good for me. But they weren't right, and so it didn't matter. It has to be the right kind of good. Because anything else outside of it would be too much - it's unwelcomed, under-appreciated; and the most that could be reciprocated is out of sympathy or responsibility - or worse yet, guilt (which is the combination of both).
And most importantly, it has to substantiate - in the ever changing world.
So is it just a numbers game? There are billions of people in the world, and what with our current information and communication technology, you're bound to meet someone meant for you. But then even if it is, where on earth do you meet these people? I live in the Silicon Valley where there is a plentitude of men. but I don't see them. E lives in colorful NYC; she doesn't see them. The numbers game? That's bullsh*t.
I sit around, and I wait for things to happen. Because I'm a firm believer that you'll find things when you least expect them. E, on the other hand, was out and about and did everything under the sky to meet people in the densest city in the United States. Neither one of us have had much luck. So we wait. So we hope. So there's everything there is to it.
Can you create opportunities? Just flat out be vulnerable and go for it? Go for everything? I'm not sure that works either.
Maybe there's such idiotic thing we call fate.
No. 'Cause that's bullshit, too.
So I've been complaining this whole time about the single notion of loneliness. And there's not much else I can say about it. I was trying to end this passage on a positive note. But now I'm just drunk, and I can't think anymore.
Going back to the story of the man at the corner. Ever think about what he thought about you upon his departure? He might have thought, "Oh, I remember her. She was a nice gal."
The End.
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