Of Aristocracy, Hope and Bitterness

Created: November 29, 2006

Have you ever gotten that feeling? You know, the one that you can’t exactly describe? It’s a myriad of different emotions. Not sure if to cry or laugh or just ponder the reasons why you find yourself awake at 2 a.m. and thinking. Not studying to get that coveted piece of paper that somehow validates 3, 4, 5 or more years at school. Just sitting up and thinking.

Mt Hope cannot be called many things, from fun to exciting or even stimulating. But it can, at least for many who frequent it either for studying or teaching, be called pretentious. For some reason there’s a constant need to be validated and posture oneself as superior to others. It happens everywhere, of that I’m acutely aware, but for some reason, there seems to be an epidemic of epic proportions from this conglomeration of Pres Boys, CIC, Fatima, Naps Boys and Girls, SAGHS and especially those ‘Convunt’ Girls.

It probably wouldn’t have had me up thinking at 2 a.m. under different circumstances, but when I think that these are going to be the doctors of tomorrow I shudder. We already have a crisis in the health sector, admittedly not solely the fault of doctors, but when I look around, I don’t see that the future holds the hope of a change in attitude. Insularity abounds and it reinforces that while one works for 3, 4, 5 or more years on that piece of paper, what isn’t obtained is a real desire to interact with and genuinely care for people. That is why now, more than ever, there is a dimunition of respect for health providers, especially doctors, who were once held in the highest esteem.

We can complain as much as we want about the deleterious state of our nation, but until we actively become involved in making changes in attitudes, we will always find ourselves in a vacuum of want. The politicians know that while the people are content to simply complain without action, they hold the upper hand. We have to not only want change, but also actively pursue it. Hope is not a strategy.

Having broken the shackles of the last year, I was forced last night into thinking whether I was bitter about the events that transpired. I never consciously believed that I was. I was hurt and disappointed, but I never thought that I exuded a bitterness about it. Perhaps at a subliminal level it manifested itself and somehow escaped in an unpleasant way. I don’t hold grudges. More simplistically, I’m happy once you’re happy.

A friend once told me that I let everyone walk all over me. Perhaps it’s my nature not to be confrontational about pettiness. Maybe that was why I let myself get burnt as badly as I did. It’s because a series of petty incidents can rear a very ugly head, if summated. That was what they didn’t understand. That was why the arguments fell flat every time an example was asked for.

You see, a single incident is as petty as stealing your neighbor’s flower to make your vase look nice. Put them all together though, and it is as though you stole your neighbor’s wife. Maybe they should all go to hell. Maybe I really am bitter. Maybe I shouldn’t think at 2 a.m.