the battle against the windmill ala don quijote
aren't we all living in our own made up reality? that is the question i asked (more) to myself tonight. aren't we all fighting our battle against the windmill ala don quijote and somewhere out there, other people look at us and think, 'that is the person that should be locked in the madhouse' and laugh at us while we insist that no, no, no, you got me wrong, i am don quijote de la mancha and i am a noblest of noble and i am the best warrior of there is.
maybe all we need is a mirror. although i doubt mirror would reflect anything substantial. maybe we need other people, as Sartre said hell is other people for their ability to judge you and gave you hell.
i don't know. for me it is hard now to understand what is real, what is important, what is true. we keep looking at other people with magnifying glass, and other people happily shared their zoomed in life, constructing whatever image they want to project.
it's like the people with the Burberry in Spain. It's an effort of showing what they are (rich), and what they are not (poor). It's also kind of kinship, fraternity symbol (of the rich). it's like all those smart (and not so smart but wanna be smart looking) people in twitterland indonesia with their kultwit. they want to show what they are (smart, or try to be) and what they are not (stupid). it's like the feminist who elevated themselves above the stupid non-feminist.
it's the people tried so hard to be different and in order to do so they fall into the bland commonness of their kind. oh the irony of it.
yeah, so here i am, battling my battle against my windmill, and try to remember why is it that i am here in the first place
La Giralda
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