When I was asked by my instructor, during the oral test of my admission test, about my intent of learning (or perfecting that is) English, I was a little bit confused. It might have lasted only for a few seconds, yet felt as if it went on for hours. I didnt even know why I came there, although being aware that the fees were quite expensive for a college student like me. In that little momentary slow motion rush, I remembered a book I once read. It was during my early interest in philosophy, an interest which was merely shaped an accidental course. I didnt plan it, and I always felt clueless about philosophy, bearing a consequent ressent towards it, since my ignorance as any other persons ignorance, led me to experience fear or/and hatred concerning the instrument of that ignorance, which was (as still partly is) philosophy. But only fools are decided about a certain opinion. Only fools omit to change their minds as the French saying goes, and nunc eridimni as the Latin expression goes, which means and can be translated to let it be a lesson for you, for it would keep you away from falsehood. I became fascinated by what seemed to be bigger than my little insignificant person and life, it fed my love for virtue and honor just the way it should. So I ultimately told her that I wanted to be eternal, confident that I could achieve immortality throughout English. I wish to be a writer, careless about the implications of such an unreasonable decision, in a country where being an anglophone is pretty much the same as being an Alien. I didnt care. I wouldnt write for the money or the fame. I have no intent of going in there, no matter how tempting that might be. When I contemplate this project of mine, truth is I dont know why. Its a calling that reasonates from the very depths of my heart. Is it reasonable to answer it, with such a vague and sweet gladness ? -Kennedy
Posted on: Fri, 08 Nov 2013 18:06:02 +0000
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