They teach you to dream, so that one day, when you finally want to pursue it, you have to come at their doors and buy it from them.
When I thought I had almost had a chance at studying with the FHI at Oxford, I was too optimistic to think that I could somehow find a way to get there.
Unfortunately, you need big money to study, even to begin with a BPhil. at Oxford. Which is both pathetic and ironic because you are trying to solve the biggest problem in human history and you need training and resources for that. Most of all, you have to think of feeding yourself while you think of a way to find and piece everything.
It seems the problem itself has, somehow, sensed it, and thus, presents all the opportunities invalid for my case. So, the biggest irony is that I need money to solve the problem, but the problem will not let me solve it by restricting me from the chance to studying it.
I had always thought studies could make you better human beings. Maybe I was mistaken. We study today so that we could exploit others in more and more sophisticated ways. It’s not about humanity, at all. It’s all about survival.
I smile at everything. That’s all I can do now. Because, if education and resources were free or at least affordable to some levels, I could have had better chance to contribute to something bigger.
And you feel desperately lonely because you can’t even spell out the problems to anyone, since, if you do, all you will hear is a whole load of buts and if, noes.
I guess this is where my dreams stop. An abstract construct defeated by material conditions.
I will still continue my personal research. Don’t know if I will ever make it without support. But my dreams of working with the greatest contemporary minds may not come true. Because, I have neither the money nor the level of connections for that.
It’s funny that I never valued money as something important. I always thought it was purpose and meaning, the journeys which were more important. I see the sufferings of the living, and I thought- I could do it, or at least be somewhere where I can contribute to better and bigger things.
May be my fate was to pursue mediocre stuffs. Live like everyone else, fighting, brawling, snatching and cheating to survive. In the end, I will have a life. But not the life I wanted, or deserved or even tried so much to achieve. And it will not matter to anyone, because no one is willing to cure themselves. We are the ones creating their own vices, our own demons, to keep busy until death comes for all of us in the desert of the real.