I’ve been accused many times of being over-analyzing. I’m also very self-critical, but as a not-so-strange dichotomy perhaps, I have a very high opinion of myself. Keep this in mind while you read this. The prevalance of the ‘I’—while perhaps normal in a blog—I’ve tried to keep to a minimum exactly because I realize this tendency in myself: to rant, and after a while, it gets intensely boring indeed.
Nevertheless, some things just have to be said. (Heavy hints and references follow).
A recipe for some personal pain: start with helping people. Add to it people who weren’t helped, or due to some reason, cannot be (let’s call them the unhelped). The unhelped feel left out, and they too want a piece of the pie. However at times, due to many unforseen circumstances, doling out that pie becomes impractical or impossible—sometimes, the kind of people who were helped before (or people even more deserving) cannot be now. Assuming of course, that I’m the person who helps people, and assuming again that I have a perfectly altruistic motive (I do not), and assuming correctly that I try to help people and not hurt them, when the unhelped starts making a hue and cry about the loss of their deserved help, I’ll find an apt time and call it quits. Everyone would be back to a harder regime which brooks no appeal.
Nobody deserves compassion or help. But when I bend the rules, I do so on a bit of personal risk, and I’d do the same for anybody who approaches me. Even now, after all this hulala.