The Dilemma of Being Human

The human experience is often fraught with a profound dilemma. Why does this state of affairs occur in the first place? It's a question that has puzzled philosophers, thinkers, and individuals throughout the ages. We find ourselves constantly grappling with the perpetual struggle between hope and despair. On one hand, hope gives us the strength to persevere, to dream big, and to strive for a better future. On the other hand, despair can creep in, clouding our vision and sapping our energy. It's a delicate balance that we all must navigate.

And what about when it all ends? Where do we go? This is another mystery that adds to the complexity of our existence. Despite the uncertainties and challenges, there is something sincere and heartwarming in an odd sort of way about the human condition. Maybe it's the capacity for love, the ability to find beauty in the simplest of things, or the resilience that allows us to bounce back from even the most difficult of circumstances. In the end, the dilemma of being human is what makes us who we are, and it's a journey that we all must undertake.

Joyce firmly believed in the concept of the author omniscient, likening it to God the Father. However, I, Sam Beckett, came to the realization that such a view was no longer tenable in the modern literary landscape. As a result, I was left to grapple with the fragmented remains of literature.

The debris of life became my central preoccupation throughout my literary career. It all began with the play that catapulted me to global fame. I once remarked that prisoners could comprehend it, while critics seemed to struggle.

Godot, in my work, is not God. Godot represents that elusive thing, person, or apparition that might potentially bestow some meaning upon life, yet it never arrives because it simply does not exist. My characters, the bums, are left to ponder over everything, from erections to the roads that intersect their path and lead nowhere. Life, in my portrayal, is stark, barren, and devoid of worth. I once wrote of myself, "My birth was an unsuccessful abortion." That is precisely how my characters feel in WAITING FOR GODOT.

Well? What do we do?

Don't let's do anything. It's safer.

Let's wait and see what he says.

Who?

Godot. You'd make me laugh if it wasn't prohibited.

We've lost our rights?

We got rid of them.

This bizarre and unsettling play delves deep into the profound themes of life, death, hope, and the loss of hope. In our existence, we are constantly in search of a meaning. At times, we manage to find what we are seeking, but more often than not, we are left empty-handed and waiting. Waiting for that which seems unreachable. It is morning, and the sun is shining brightly, hinting at the possibility of hope for us. We wait... for something or someone to alleviate this boredom and loneliness, to赋予 some semblance of meaning to what we term "life". We wait. As the night falls, darkness envelopes everything. There is nothing left, everything appears dead except for a solitary tree. We make the decision to end it all. But alas! There is no rope to hang ourselves with! What if we wake up tomorrow and continue to wait some more, hope some more? What if tomorrow brings a change? If not, we can always remember to bring a piece of rope with us the next time we venture to the tree.

I've heard about this for years and always meant to get around to reading it.

This is one of the reasons that high school kids often hate 'classics'. According to the Wikipedia article, this absurdist play was voted "the most significant English language play of the 20th century". There are an incredible number of different interpretations and articles about it.

It's an amazing body of what I would call bullshit - proof that people, especially critics, are so bored (or have such a severe case of cranial-rectal inversion) that they bother to try to find any significance at all. Of course, they can argue about it. It's so pointless that almost any interpretation will fit depending on how much mental masturbation one feels like performing.

Here's the Wikipedia article: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Waiting...

I was building a toy for my grandson during the 1.5 hours I spent listening to this, so at least the time wasn't completely wasted.

I still can't help but wonder if there's really any value in this play that I'm just not seeing. Maybe I need to give it a second chance and approach it from a different perspective. But for now, I'm left with a sense of confusion and dissatisfaction.

Based on the definitions I had previously heard and read about the subject matter and the anonymity of the characters, I was aware of it. I was able to envision the creation of a puppet and the anticipation was in vain. I knew that was the goal, but until I read "from the perspective of looking" (translator's notes), I did not realize the beauty and elegance of the work.

Despite the interesting nature of the story at the end, I cannot overlook the dullness and weariness of the show. And the fact that I was waiting for an engaging dialogue throughout the entire period and no particular case came to my attention, all the words that were rejected and replaced were random and meaningless. This may also be in line with the goal and a requirement of the puppet, the main subject of the show!

It seems that the true essence of this puppet show lies not only in the story itself but also in the subtleties and nuances that are revealed through the anonymity of the characters. The lack of clear identities allows the audience to project their own emotions and interpretations onto the puppet, creating a more personalized and engaging experience.

However, the dullness and weariness that I felt during the show cannot be ignored. It may be that the pacing or the delivery of the dialogue could have been improved to maintain the audience's interest. Additionally, the random and meaningless nature of some of the words may have detracted from the overall impact of the show.

Overall, while there were aspects of the puppet show that I found interesting and engaging, there is also room for improvement. I look forward to seeing how the creators continue to develop and refine this work in the future.

Waiting for Godot
Waiting for Godot
Waiting for Godot
Waiting for Godot


I was really surprised when I was wearing my husband's special men's (T-shirt) with the above phrase on it. The (T-shirt) was old and that phrase was printed on it in different sizes. I didn't understand what that phrase was and the (T-shirt) was very dirty as he used it as a cleaning rag.

I asked him about that strange (T-shirt) and why he brought such a thing home. He replied with a question: Don't you have the (T-shirt) of the organizing committee for the United Nations University model from your college days?

I said to him: Oh, I still keep it new as a souvenir.

He said: Is this a souvenir from the theater lectures in college days?

I said to him: I don't understand!

He asked me: Have you ever read the play "Waiting for Godot" when you were in college?

My answer was: No.

My husband graduated from an American university where they studied a theater course and performed in it. And that was the play they performed.

He told me that he played the role of Lucky, who is the follower of Pozzo and the owner of the strange and famous monologue in the world of absurd theater.

He told me the story in a hurry, keeping the details. If you were wondering if Godot is a misspelling of God?

He asked me not to think about it in that way and to read the play.

I decided to look for the play and read it.

I read it in English as he performed it in the university. I read it about seven years ago, so I can't remember the details of the characters or talk about them or the details of the play. After seven years, only the general idea remains.

The climax of madness.

Everyone is waiting for Godot.

Godot sends a message saying that he will appear but he doesn't.

The climax of absurdity. They are still waiting for him. The order of the situation and the repetition of waiting do not force them to break that empty loop and get out of it.

So why don't they do something useful in their lives instead of waiting for Godot who doesn't appear?

Isn't it possible that he will only appear if they do what deserves his appearance?

Oh, the absurdity and madness.

And I was really impressed by the monologue. Although it is chaotic, the repetition of some words and the proximity of some words make it very difficult to deliver.

Of course, there is no recording of the play as the students did in the American university, but there are clips of the monologue in different languages on YouTube.

I liked the play despite my objections to one of its interpretations, and perhaps I am still impressed in evaluating it as it was performed on a stage in Egypt by university students.

100th book of 2021. The artist for this review is the Spanish painter Salvador Dalí (1904 - 1989).

During the slight easing of some lockdown or other last year, I took a train to Brighton to meet with some women from my MA course to workshop our writing. I hadn't been out of W—— much, and it felt strange. At first, I went to the wrong house and stood outside for a while, pressing the doorbell and clicking my tongue. Fortunately, no one was in, and I soon realized I was in the wrong place entirely. After trying again, I found the right place, and I. appeared from below ground and welcomed me. The downstairs was quite light considering it was below road level and had a large dining table, a kitchen, and a toilet in the back. S. was already there. All the others had cancelled. I busied myself with the first dog and kept trying to call the other one (from its bed) over to me quietly. Eventually, the second dog heaved itself up and hobbled over to me – it only had three legs. I patted it, feeling guilty. Tea was made, and biscuits were laid out. The table was rather large, and behind I. at the head was a mantelpiece. As she was talking to S., I looked over her head at the trinkets lined up on it and was sure there were several photographs of Samuel Beckett among other things, obviously bought from her travels and family photos. His face is fairly distinctive anyway, but I was sure I could see his badger-streak hair. I said, 'I'm not wearing my glasses, but is that Samuel Beckett up there?' A part of me was excitably wondering if he was some distant relative. But no. 'My mother adores him,' I. replied; 'She sends me postcards all the time about how she is and what she's up to, and they always have Beckett's face on them.' She took one down and turned it over to reveal a postcard-back scrawled with handwriting. 'She thinks he's so dishy.'

My first introduction to Beckett was Molloy, which I found interesting but difficult to read and follow the 'point'. I've had Malone Dies beside me for a few months and was going to read it next, but then I found myself in the library the other day, piling book after book into my arms and dropped Waiting for Godot in with the rest. I thought it was about time to read Beckett's most famous work. So, the Theatre of the Absurd. How is it? Answer: Absurd. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but I also got what I was expecting: two blokes waiting. It's boring, but it's so boring that it becomes un-boring. It's so seemingly pointless that it becomes blazingly significant. It reminds me of (codename) Swan once saying in a lecture about how he always sees young people lined up on train platforms as if the trains never come. He jokingly voiced the desire to write a novel about people waiting for these trains that never come. The Godot Train.

I won't go into all the stuff that's inevitably said about this play all the time, probably since people first sat and watched it performed. Beckett famously said, 'I told him that if by Godot I had meant God I would have said God, and not Godot. This seemed to disappoint him greatly.' And that's about all he said as he was also quite well-known for being silent about the'meaning' of his work. So rather than talking about all the existentialist stuff, the meaning of life in the waiting, whether we believe Beckett about Godot/God, the suicide contemplation, everything else, I will instead just say that the play did leave me feeling rather empty. Somehow it did trigger me to consider my own existence. I was either bored reading it or amused, but either way, I had the premonition that it would stay in my head for a while. Is something instantly good if we can't stop thinking about it? My stock answer for why I adore reading so much is because it allows me to think about things I don't normally think about. Or think about things I do think about but think about them differently. Waiting for Godot has essentially done both of those things and therefore qualifies to be 'good'/'worthwhile'/'profound'. And so by identifying that within myself, I suppose this is a very fantastic play.

Those crazy mfs sure did wait for Gadot.

Okay, let's be real. I should probably give a proper review of this, but God, I really don't want to. I have this strong feeling that I would just hate watching this. And you know what? If I ever met Samuel Beckett in real life, I might just want to punch him in the face. It's just the vibes, you know? Also, I'll be honest, I don't have much patience for nihilism.

It's not that I didn't "get" the play, really. I mean, Beckett famously didn't care whether or not you understood what he was on about, not even bothering to tell his actors. But I do have my own interpretations. They don't exactly make me love the play more, but at least I have something.

From the start, I thought Godot was some kind of stand-in for God. The way Estragon was compared to Adam, the first man, and Pozzo to both Cain and Abel, those violent descendants, really added to that feeling. And there's other Christ-like stuff in the play worth thinking about. Like when Vladimir and Estragon interrogate Lucky, it almost feels like they're making him out to be a sinner. And Estragon saying "All my life I've compared myself to him" about Christ, that just seems right.

But as the play went on, I started to think that maybe Godot could be anyone or anything. The whole point seems to be that we're waiting for something that's never going to come. We might even kill ourselves tomorrow. We sure as hell want to. And while we're waiting, we have to find something to do. We keep thinking there's a deeper meaning coming, but it never will.

And then there's this whole thing about whether the theatrical stage is real or parallels real life in terms of existentialism. Pozzo can't just leave the stage in the middle of Act one, which I thought was an interesting comment on the role of an actor. They can only leave when it makes sense for the story. And by the end of Act I, no one can leave, which just adds to that. There's this sense of first interpolation, like all of humanity is on that stage, and then interchangeability as Vladimir and Estragon develop as characters.

I mean, that's about all I have to say. It's kind of interesting to analyze, I guess. But I'd much rather analyze something I actually enjoy, and whose author wasn't so weirdly pretentious. But that's just me.

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This is what we all put ourselves in, waiting for something.

Even if what we are waiting for comes, we start waiting for something else. Even if it is delayed, we still wait for it.

The play was beautiful but it didn't appeal to me. There were many philosophical views in it as well as messages that required a lot of analysis and also expertise.

Life seems to be a continuous cycle of waiting. We wait for opportunities, for love, for success. Sometimes the waiting can be long and tiring, but we hold on hoping that what we are waiting for will be worth it.

As for the play, perhaps I didn't have the right mindset or enough knowledge to fully appreciate its depth. Maybe with more time and study, I would be able to understand and enjoy it better.

In conclusion, waiting is an inevitable part of life and we should learn to be patient and make the most of the time we spend waiting. And when it comes to art and literature, we should approach them with an open mind and a willingness to learn and explore.

In the play, seemingly nothing occurs. However, it stands as a genuine classic of the absurd and firmly lodges in one's memory.

There is an absence of traditional dramatic conflict, action, or intense emotion. It delves into the theme of boredom, and yet, paradoxically, it fails to bore the audience.

This work is a tragi-comedy, open to multiple interpretations. It puzzles the mind, perhaps presenting a vivid picture of human endeavors to navigate through life, or it might be a pointed reference to the inherent pointlessness of existence.

Regardless of its true meaning, there is no denying that it is a brilliant piece of art. It challenges our perceptions and forces us to reflect on the nature of life and our place within it. The play's ability to engage and intrigue, despite its unconventional nature, is a testament to its enduring appeal and artistic merit.

It remains a captivating and thought-provoking work that continues to resonate with audiences across different generations and cultures.

I have witnessed this play on multiple occasions. Years ago, I had the opportunity to see a local theatrical company stage a truly remarkable production. This experience led me to decide to read the play, as there remain numerous questions in my mind regarding the core meaning that Beckett endeavored to convey.

Here is my interpretation: I perceive "Waiting for Godot" as an exploration of "existential horror." The essence of existence seems to have been "stripped" away, and the central question is obscured by illusory pantomimic gestures that reverberate through the corridors of time, echoing our collective "sound and fury."

Just as in any corridor, one is faced with a choice of which "door" to pass through. However, upon doing so, one discovers a perversion of Hilbert's paradox of the Grand Hotel (California), where there was never truly a front desk manager. This further emphasizes the sense of absurdity and the lack of a clear resolution or meaning in the play.

Vladimir: Was I asleep when others were suffering? Am I asleep now? Tomorrow, when I wake up, or think I wake up, what will I say about today?

These questions萦绕在Vladimir的心头，让他陷入了深深的沉思。他不禁回想起那些曾经目睹他人痛苦的时刻，心中充满了愧疚和自责。他开始怀疑自己是否真的清醒过，是否真的对周围的世界有过清晰的认识。

如今，他站在当下，却依然感到迷茫和困惑。他不知道明天醒来后，自己会如何看待今天所经历的一切。是会将其视为一场梦，还是会从中汲取教训，改变自己的生活？

Vladimir深知，无论答案是什么，他都必须勇敢地面对自己的内心，去寻找属于自己的真相。