The fastest way to change yourself is to hang out with people who are already the way you want to be.
from The Start-Up of You
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The world isn’t just the way it is. It is how we understand it, no? And in understanding something, we bring something to it, no?
Doesn’t that make life a story?
― Yann Martel, Life of Pi
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as tough as work has been the past few weeks, life before and after has been so good. so many good days lately. i’ve never had both n and d in the same city at one time. we’ve been together in various cities over the past years, but never all three living in the same place. something kinda magical about it if you ask me, that whole three peas in a pod sort of goodness.
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I’m always super-conscious of how whenever I go out into the world, whenever I get involved in a relationship, my idea of who I think I am utterly collides with the reality of who I actually am. And I continue to go out even though who I am always comes up short. I always prove myself to be less generous, less charming, less considerate, not as bold or energetic or intelligent or courageous as I imagined in my solitude. And I’m always being insulted, or snubbed, or disappointed. And I’m never in my pyjamas.
And yet, in some way, maybe this is better. Each of us in this room could suffer the pangs of withdrawal and gain the serenity of the non-smoker. We could be demigods in our little castles, all alone, but perhaps, at heart, none of us wants that. Maybe the only cure for self-confidence and courage is humility. Maybe we go out in order to fall short . . . because we want to learn how to be good at being people . . . and moreover, because we want to be people
Sheila Heti
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Because, ten-year-olds of the world, you shouldn’t believe what your teachers tell you about the beauty and specialness and uniqueness of you. Or, believe it, little snowflake, but know it won’t make a bit of difference until after puberty. It’s Newton’s lost law: anything that makes you unique later will get your chocolate milk stolen and your eye blackened as a kid. Won’t it, Sebastian? Oh, yes, it will, my little Mandarin Chinese-learning, Poe-reciting, high-top-wearing friend. God bless you, wherever you are.
― Sloane Crosley, I Was Told There’d Be Cake
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