01.03.20 . . . 10.28

You're lucky to even know me, you're lucky to be alive, you're lucky to be drinking here for free, cause I'm a sucker for your lucky pretty eyes.

Not that I expect writing about it will really change the fact that I do it, at least not immediately, but I take a lot for granted. Everybody does. But I think it makes me a sadder person. The more I expect the more of a chance there is that I won't get something I expect.

Yesterday in Emerson and Thoreau class, we were talking about this part of Walden where Thoreau is complaining about how the railroad has ruined his beloved pond, which is true, but then he goes on and says that really, the pond hasn't changed, and all the change is in him. Why would he do that, since it's obviously not true? The pond had changed. It's documented. That year, deforestation in New England was at an all-time high, or something (I don't really remember the statistic, but the point is that there's empirical evidence that the railroad really did ruin the pond to an extent). This guy in my class said that Thoreau was saying that he'd changed his perspective of the pond, and he could continue to do that as much as he wanted, so all the change would be in him. My answer was that when people are upset about something they have no control over, they like to blame it on themselves, because they think that gives them the power to change the situation.

I keep changing my perspective over and over. I'm waiting for one of them to feel right.

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