Can't find the short story collection, The Beast who Shouted Love at the Heart of the World. I is sad.

Last night Zhuang Mao and i were talking about idealism. He said he found it admirable to pursue one's passions after graduation; to defy society and escape the banality of a normal working life. I said it was darn irresponsible, because what we do affect not only ourselves, but others around us too. We should not be thinking only of our own desires; we have to also consider the happiness of those bound to us, like our parents.

I remember in one of the books by Orson Scott Card, Theresa Wiggin was fretting that her son Peter was too busy trying to achieve great things, and neglected his personal life. She hoped that he'd find a girl, settle down, and have children. It may sound awfully petty to you; what is an everyday family life compared to saving the world? But she claimed something along the lines of, there's no lack of great, ambitious people in the world, great things achieved will perish with time, and that you've not truly experienced the cycle of life until you have kids, giving yourself wholely and unconditionally to their welfare. To know what it's like to love someone more than yourself.

It's the kind of theory that appeals to me. Like, a meaningful life is not exclusive to elites alone. You struggle trying to be intellectual and great, but at the end of the day, the value of life lies in the basic and the commonplace. 'Indeed, there are those who are last who will be first, and first who will be last.'