Whenever someone unfurls the carpet of an invitation for me, the first thing I end up doing is to stretch it and clothe the whole stadium of my mind. Inside this stadium, I often watch the dreadful tug of war between acceptance and denials. And amusingly, luckiest are those if they are with the proposals that falls within the zone of my interest. (Doesn’t necessarily mean that I am a well sought invitee or that demanding in nature).
|The balance of interest|
Thus, the interest has often been one factor for me to gauge between those commodities of reception and rejection. It works like a hidden compass and performs like any ordinary, showing me the precise direction where to follow.
But one thing I hate about the interest is its existence of bipolarity. Like magnets, it attracts only with the right pole and repels the one that are against its rule.
And miserably, this rule of interest never finds a smooth course to run in the circle of human relations. It is never a good crop to grow in the land of our social life.
For instance, whenever my heartiest friends design a plan to do something, they would have already put me inside the bucket of their plan. And one question I would certainly put up, (which they are at all times prepared) is “who’re the rest?”
I am not concerned about the colour, race or sex of the other members. But I am more concerned of the colour, race and sex of their interest.
We often take into consideration that to socialize, a long list of alcohols and brands of animal fleshes in our menu is indispensable. While to some extent is necessary, to consider the interests of people around is very important. They are just parallel.
This is one reason why I flee or avoid gatherings unless it consists of some official feathers. Human have a tainted belief that gathering is synonymous to whisky and the whisky is a lone engine to run the bus of socialization.
One may argue of its frequency, that gathering takes place only occasionally. But it is this small degree that makes the biggest difference.
We never stand our feet inside the shoe of people who never drink any form of these intoxicants. Not knowing that these drugs slowly eat away their brain cells, the inebriates instead, claim that they see another heaven. The wisest teetotalers then become the best fools to watch the drama of how hell can be easily made out of a heaven.