Thoughts On Things

Entry 34

I can't help but cry when I think about how I'm wasting my life. I wish I had some fantasy youth, an eccentric group of friends, an odd setting; but alas, I was born on Earth, this bland place that's the home of all things beautiful, and all things terrible and boring. I'm aware I should probably be proactive about my situation, seek out new friends, new things to do, new places to go, but I'm really not the socialite I think I am. Additionally, I'm the type who does their work at the last minute, so I will likely try to live out this youth when I'm 83. 

We recently saw the film Ikiru, and We highly recommend it. It follows the life of a man who is diagnosed with a dreadful illness that will soon, in around 6 months to a year, lead to his death. Spoilers ahead, so do not read on if you plan to watch the film.

After being diagnosed, he decides to do something with the life he has wasted; he decides to go against the social conventions of the day, to achieve his goal even if it means butting heads with his family, his friends, his co-workers, his bosses and even the yakuza. It's truly admirable. But I think the greatest part of the film, that makes it a great tragicomedy, is the end. All the employees get excited talking about our protagonist's change, and all decide that they'll do better from now on. All of this was discussed at the wake, when they were quite drunk. One employee in particular strongly supports the protagonist's actions and vehemently vows to follow in his footsteps. "We'll all die someday, even if it's not soon, so we must take action!" And other idealistic phrases. The next time we see them, they are at work; one of the employees has become chief following the protagonist's death, and all those who swore with such passion to do better are now gathered. A lady comes asking for help. The new chief sends her away to another office, trapping her in a loop of confusing bureaucracy reminiscent of Kafka's Trial. The employee who most enthusiastically wished to be like the protagonist stands up for a moment, likely to reprimand his colleagues, before he sits down again, pierced by the glares of his co-workers who do not want to disturb any waves. I often have these daydreams about being put in the protagonist's situation. Given 6 months or so to live, what would I do? I think a lot of us wish we'd do something great, realise the meaning of life. But, sadly, I think many of us would continue our daily routines until we are too ill to do so; at that point, we'd fade away, not having done anything in particular. Perhaps I'm a pessimist or a cynic, however; maybe many of us would sprint to work, quit our jobs, donate money to charity, care for those less fortunate, become a saint, practically.