Why does it seem that when you have all this time on your hands to choose how your day is going to go, it slips through your fingers. However, when you allow yourself to make plans, you often go from place to place as opportunities arise -- and sometimes are let down by the prospect of turning out more exciting than they are in actuality?
Traditional existentialists dressed in black and "mourned" the life they were shrouded in. Wondering if these societal constraints were a mere construct of a life imposed, never chosen. The existentialist chooses her way to live each day. Consequently, those most spontaneous things should be the best part of life right? I agree! Hence, I am not much of a planner these days. I enjoy the idea of waking up wondering what is going to happen next.
Reminds me of those "Choose Your Own Adventure" books. Rememeber those? (woops. side note)
I hate the anticipation of a planned event that turns out the less exciting. A highly awaited kiss, a promotion at that job you slave over, the vacation that gets rained out, a stolen suitcase, a friend that gets married (then divorced), and the unhappiness that often follows when a party that was supposed to be fabulous is a sweaty soiree. (Sad, sad day when the sweaty soiree happens. Haha) In any case, I hope that not planning my vacation in its entirety, when I leave for London in two weeks will actually improve my chances of pure enjoyment. PURA VIDA.
Ciao.
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