The Ceiling-Breacher.

I set high standards for myself, just like many people have. It’s something I’ve inherited and cultivated for myself – even on Temple Run, hehe. I reach some, fail on enough but what I never want to allow of myself, is being content with mediocrity (I dare anyone to insert an Arsenal joke here and I will turn you into a rumour). There’s too much to achieve, to succeed at in this world, in this sometimes dreary life.

We sometimes sink into despair when things aren’t going our way, almost giving up, believing it’s not all worth it, maybe try out a new venture because, for all we know, you got to seize the moment; do what you can while you can.

The problem is we sometimes become too engrossed in the thirst for success, seeking the expressway to those golden gates of whatever you perceive success to be, attacking it on too many fronts.

Come to think of it, what exactly is success? This must be the most variable definition known to mankind, dictionaries notwithstanding. Happiness, money, a stable content family, living to old age…the list is endless, and sometimes weird.

Because no-one knows what the purpose of life is. Ultimately, we all (un)consciously subscribe to that nasty little pyramid that good old Maslow formulated. I wonder whether that made him consider himself successful in life.

It’s a nasty business that we find ourselves in. We’re just animals; no better than a tiger stalking its prey through the long rushes and reeds of the swampy Indian peninsula; nothing unlike the bloodthirsty leopard, mingling unseen into the dry scrub of the African savanna. Not even a wee bit dissimilar to the Great White Shark, silent in the deep blue, ready to pierce through an unseeming fellow creature of the sea, just as we do tear into each other, courteously or otherwise. To be the best. The prima-donna, the don, the shot-caller.

It’s all in your mind, what you interpret it as. Poor or rich, old or young, happy or sad. In all these, however, one factor remains constant: it just does NOT count as success without their being company alongside you to share in it. Someone to tell of that case you closed today in court before the judge everyone claims has it in for the newbie lawyer, the day you earn your first million, your first salary, your first child/grandchild, the day you’re elected President.

It all just doesn’t count, when you stand alone, an obelisk in the sun, proudly glinting. But alone, that glint is nothing but a nuisance to the eye of the unconcerned, unrelated, nonchalant everyday man in the bus going to work to earn his living. For all it matters, you’re just the egotistic bloke shouting “Look at me! Look at me!” like a kid who just learnt to float or ride a bike (Remember how that felt the first time? I don’t think you celebrated alone, did you? The little uncelebrated successes of life.)

Without your crew of friends who’ve seen you through thick and thin, the workmates who helped you close that deal, your classmates who endured that inept lecturer, your family who encouraged you along the way; without them THERE’S NO SUCCESS!

No man is an island.

It’s a tough world. And we’re tougher people. If not then there would be no sense at all in living.

So for now, ceilings have been established, targets have been set. And crash helmets have been dished out for the arduous task ahead of breaking through those ceilings.

TALLY-HO!

I’m not that proficient at Photoshop or otherwise she would be donning quite a fancy crash-helmet, mind you. Okay, I’m outta here.