It was one of those days when Facebook said to me I should complete a sophisticated test, one in the lines of 'if you think you are funny, this is the most laughs-provoking quote you could post in 20 years' time...'. Or something equally silly. As all you need to do is click. Once. In the rare case of a particularly multi-level analysis you do it twice. And you are presented with a result. Bang! This is what you will say to your so called friends in 2036. Your welcome.
I don't like the word 'should'. It plays tricks with my mind which instantly, instantly produces that voice in my head that says: 'No'. 'Don't do it.' 'It is you who decide, no should-teller has a right to tell you what to do.' And only now, when I look at my no longer-aspiring philosopher, the 7-year old mirror of my stubbornness, only now I can feel the pain my grandma must have felt when she was finding the ways to get around all the 'shoulds' in the world to make me do things.
But that day, it was different. I obeyed. Clearly, clicking on the link Facebook suggests you and letting an online application rule your mood means you are in trouble, or something is not quite working on some levels in your life. Or both.
So I did it. I let this blue time-consuming tool tell me what would be the first sentence of my autobiography book. Which only proves the point. I wasn't myself that day. Otherwise I wouldn't let anyone and anything write words for me.
If you ever come across a biography written by me and by popular free social networking website, you might expect it will start like this: 'In life, I've often found myself standing in front of locked doors. Thank God for sledgehammers.'