Truth

. . .Reality is what one makes of it. At first, I didn't really understand that sentiment. That one's reality is real if one were delusional? Is one foolish for choosing to regard a situation as positive, when it's "clearly" negative?
. . .But then, that's not exactly the correct line of thought. Because that's simply personality. One prefers blue and therefore enjoys sunny days. But what of history? Surely, history is a form of reality, so concrete that it is almost inarguable. Except that we do. Was the French revolution a good thing? Were the Chinese really brilliant 5000 years ago? And that's when I realized it. Reality is what one makes of it. Choose one aspect of something and exemplify it. Samurai - honour. Nevermind that they were stiff-necked men who prefered suicide over survival. They had a man-made concept of honour, and they stuck with it. The willow or the Oak? The willow bends to the wind and therefore grows, but at least the mighty oak stood firm until the bitter end. < clichés con't > The brave may not live long, but the cowardly do not live at all. < /cliché >
. . .And never mind politics. The sublimal messages that American films carry -- Russians, Chinese are bad, Canadians are ignored... England, Japan and Israel are of some consideration. (I saw Independence Day last night on TV.)
. . .But anyways, I can't afford to think too deeply, I've a midterm to study for and some other assignments to complete, as well as my translation project. Dammit...