Yesterday I cycled past a statement. It was written on a small vertical sign, an upright piece of wood, near Lake Pyhäjärvi in the Tahmela neighbourhood. Although I was going pretty fast, I think I know what it said. There were only two or three letters per row, and the arrangement made it a bit difficult to read, which is why I had already passed the sign when my mind comprehended the following (let's say it was three letters per row):
It was strange to have such a brief encounter with such an apt personal life slogan. For a long time, every question has appeared to have at least two valid answers, every statement several interpretations, every important word several distinctive meanings. I don't mean just academic issues; it goes deeper. Most problems have seemed equivocal to me and, as a result, most direct answers unfairly reductionist. Postmodernism and relativism aside, I am having trouble living with unambiguity. Or rather, where other people see it, I don't. Whether or not I say it aloud, I regularly refuse to accept solutions people present to me for everyday dilemmas, even if they think their approach is the only correct or sensible one. Most of the time, I feel there's a practical, moral, or at least theoretical "but" that deserves to be expressed. Thus I hate directives like "Go to A to get B, so C will give you D, and you can finish with E". I'm usually the exception that gets X and Y instead of B and D, and therefore E won't let me finish. I hate the slogan "There's always a way around it" even more, since this statement (obviously launched by someone with a gold spoon in their mouth) simply and infuriatingly denies the existence of all exceptions, implying that the world works identically for everybody. Often there is a way around it, sometimes there isn't, but this is not the point. The point, in a rephrase of the initial statement, is that there's always a but.
I haven't found much understanding for this practice of mine. Most people would refer to it as "making things difficult" for myself.