A mid-summer night hare (16)

Hareta’s “better than the best” way of living could be very dangerous. She is bound to eat a lot of lemons along the way. She asks for it. Getting to know your frenemy and finding out her weaknesses is so elementary school. No, not even. Kindergarten tricks. If you keep doing this at world class tertiary institutions like Harvard, Cambridge or MIT, you are just a spring chicken.

Let’s imagine this. If Hareta really wins a lottery and gets into Harvard, with a scholarship even, and she cannot let go of her slum-dog way of reasoning and insists on competing and winning her peers, she would just be making herself a public figure of humiliation. It is like saying I am better than Mark Zuckerberg because I drive a mercedes and I wear Bannana Republic. What’s so great about Mark Zuckerberg anyways? He is just lucky to have built his facebook empire. He went to Harvard, but hey me too! With a scholarship even. He has a brain, so do I. I can do what he does, maybe even better.

So, Hareta asks the same questions to herself over and over again, “Mark Zuckerberg and I go to the same school. I even have the title of a Global Scholar. Don’t forget I have been the champion at whatever North Point Government School. No one can defeat me. If I get ahead Mark Zuckerberg, I would be better off than 99.99999% of the people in the world. I would then be top of the world!”

So, Hareta does voluntary work when she hears that Mark Zuckerberg is a philanthropist. She goes to the same classes that Mark Zuckerberg enrolls. She befriends with whoever Mark Zuckerberg talks to. She joins whatever social clubs where Mark Zuckerberg is a member. Mark Zuckerberg wears Gap hoodies and Hareta brings an LV. Mark Zuckerberg drives a Honda and Hareta owns a Tesla. She has surpassed Mark Zuckerberg in every single realm of life, hasn’t she? She can now proudly announced that she is the ultimate winner of all humanities. She has what Mark Zuckerberg possesses. No, even more. Mark Zuckerberg is richer than Li Ka Shing. So isn’t she cream of the crop?