Is anything besides friends and family really that important, really that great? Is the process of plucking strings and rhythmically moving a brush, or finding patterns and solving equations that incredibly satisfying that you tunnel vision out all other life possibilities? I'm trying to rationalize why the truly great people get so obsessed about their respective fields and forgo all other pleasures... why 99.5% of everyone else doesn't really care that much, yet wishes they had some unyielding passion.
Why is it the happiness criterion for people in third world countries is so much less than ours? They can be happy for some much less than 99.9% of anyone in this country or anyone you know. Do we self-delude (that's a bit harsh) into being happy, into enjoying something?
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