The White Knight

"'She's my prisoner, you know!' the Red Knight said at last.
'Yes, but then I came and rescued her!' the White Knight replied.
'Well, we must fight for her, then'"

Those who know me, know that I have never had a very romantic view on life&love.

Those who know me better, know better. I adore romance (in a very wide sense), only I don't believe it exists. That's one reason to identify with authors like Piet Paaltjens (next to the fact that we share our birthday), and, indeed, Lewis Carroll.

However, my views on what is reality and what is romantic gibberish might have been changing lately.

Yesterday I came upon the following passage in Bill Bryson's description of his first few months in England. After some travelling around he arrives in a small town near London. "My intention was to catch a flight home from Heathrow the next day; I was due to resume my listless university studies in two weeks." But then he meets this kind nurse. "We were married sixteen months later in the local church". Now that is romantic, you agree? But is it also wise?

Now I am of the conviction that it is a good thing to be happy. I am also of the conviction that it is wise to do whatever is needed to be happy. And, lastly, I believe that one of the things most apt to make me (and most people, for that matter) happy, is to have good relation(ship)s (in any sense of the word) with Beautiful People (that one's for the Barbra-fans). Can we conclude then, that it is wise to do what is needed to have these relation(ship)s? Well, yes.

Then why am I always a trifle shocked when people impulsively move to other countries, or quit their work or studies "in the name of love"? It's not just because they have the guts to do what I don't dare. It's also because what they do in my eyes is plain folly. Or is it?

When asked to choose between the opportunity to increase some grade by one point ("in order to be eligible for better continuing education") and spending two weeks with someone I love, I go for the first option. When given the opportunity to spend half a year in some foreign country and leave everyone behind, I do not hesitate one moment. "Now of course you don't", you'd say: "don't be overdramatic". True, but what if I only had the possibility to go abroad if it were for the entire year? Or two years? Or five? Where does "being away for a while" stop and "moving away and beginning a new life" start? When does a distant relation(ship) become a burden instead of a source of joy? Now please don't get me wrong: I'm not talking about myself here (anymore), but considering different things that might happen and choices one might have to make in one's life. And this is the kind of issue that students, and especially students at places like UC, are the first ones to come across, so (most of) you probably know all about it.

What it comes down to in the end is dependance.

When I hear about someone leaving something very important in their life (like their studies) for a friend (especially when the subject is a woman, because they are historically already more dependant on men than v.v.), this would initially make a negative impression on me; because investing in yourself is so important, and because its importance is so self-evident to me (this has to do with my/our education, of course). In the end, what you yourself know and can is much more certain and enduring than most of the relations you have with others.

But once you have this certainty, of course you don't have happiness yet. And this is the balance one has to find.

I am not sure yet where my priorities lie, or my limits, but I do know that I am becoming more careful in judging other people's life-changing decisions.

"'You've only a few yards to go,' he said, 'down the hill and over that little brook, and then you'll be a Queen - But you'll stay and see me off first?' he added as Alice turned away with an eager look. 'I shan't be long. You'll wait and wave your handkerchief when I get to that turn in the road? I think it'll encourage me you see.'"

Beer for lunch?

It seems a misunderstanding has developed with some of you after reading today's first post. No, I do not drink Guinness at 12 noon (at least, not today). The post was actually written last night, just after twelve, which Blogger has interpreted as being today. But then again, computers don't go out.

City

Today, I will travel to London. At last. Long have I waited for this moment. But: I do not expect anything, because I know that can be fatal.

By the way, this is what Bill Bryson writes on page 46 of his Notes from a small island:

"It is far more beautiful and interesting than Paris"

We will see!

Lovely day for a...

...Guinness! I just had my first (as far as I can remember) in the Ship Inn, and I must say I liked it.