Scribbles

Just finished reading A Slight Trick of the Mind for the second time, and it really struck a cord.  The conclusion was no surprise to me, but coincidentally, I just watched House of Sand and Fog earlier tonight. At this point, I’m not certain what to make of the theme I found in both pieces:

I believe that the manner in which people deal with this notion reflects the meaning they attach to their lives.  In both cases, the protagonists respond to a gaping loss of meaning, spawned so suddenly and unexpectedly.  Yet while I refuse to ever allow the significance of my being to be defined by the placement of hope and attachment on external and uncontrollable outcomes, I can’t help ponder how many people unintentionally end up in hopeless situations guided by societal and cultural expectations, and obviously by the very human emotion of love.

Given my relatively young age and focus in life, my dismissal of people’s lack of meaning can appear condescending and outright insensitive.  But I think what I really want to question is whether people as a whole lose their love for living as a result of societal expectations, aging, or the gradual diminishing of the spark that ignites one’s reason d’etre.  Why cannot parents attach the same passion and curiosity to their lives as do their children? Responsibilities, unfulfilled dreams, physical breakdown?  I suppose we can make any of these (and more) an excuse, but then again, we can also choose not to.