Creatures of Habit...

Am I a misanthrope?

I often wake up in the morning and wonder about this question. Then I go back to sleep, for there are dreams waiting for me to complete their stories. Haven't we all been in dreams which seem so compelling and well-knit, that we wish to wake up, remember and make a story out of it? I have, so many times; but most of the time, I forget the dream. Sometimes, I forget they are dreams. It is not my fault that they seem so real. What if life is but a waking dream? We think we are living through the passages of time, being a part of every action we encounter and working with a specific end in mind. When it happens, we are happy and when it doesn't we brood over it for a while before moving on. But what if all that is an illusion? Maybe everything has already happened and we are witnessing them without any control over the way of things?

Is life a great show that we are watching only the re-runs of?

I do not hate people. I think I really appreciate so much that has been created because of the human impetus. Mathematics is probably the purest of human conceptions and language, the most muddled. That is why I sometimes wonder if I should have studied Mathematics. Four years ago, I would have jumped up and said, it is not too late; change your stream, study maths. The knowledge of literature will not go to waste. It was just four good years in coming to terms with what you really want. Ironically, four years ago, I would not have to undo four years of activity to choose a different path. I come to the cross-roads of the same paradox that H G Wells describes so well. If the girl never died, you would not have had the desire to create the Time Machine in the first place. So, the fact that the time machine exists, implies that the girl has died. Mathematics has such lucidity. There are no two ways about a single idea. Sometimes, there are stupid ideas that appear apparently true. But it is only a question of hanging on till you come upon the right way of things. You remember a story when you read when you were twelve. But you cannot reproduce a mathematic problem you had done four years ago. It is not the collective error of the human; a mere shortcoming of the single human.

Am I a misanthrope?