believing in yourself

If you gave up on yourself, if you didn't believe in yourself, who would?


I finished reading Crime and Punishment.  I had bought the first volume a decade ago and had never touched it since (except for when I was packing to move) but finally found the time to read it.  I didn't think it was especially an impressive book.  It wasn't exactly entertaining, nor did I think it would influence the rest of my life; some parts were interesting but I didn't feel like writing an entry about it right after I finished the book.

After a whole day, however, I thought I might as well leave some thoughts here.  It was a surprise that the protagonist never actually suffered the pangs of conscience (or at least never clearly admitted it).  On the surface, what he finally suffered from was the fact that he couldn't help but confess (which I guess means that he actually did feel remorse for having comitted a murder).  He didn't think it was a sin to commit a "crime" in order to achieve a goal that would make a better world.  Some people -- people like Napoleon who could endure his crime by strongly believing in himself and his belief -- had the right to violate the law for the better.  The protagonist's sin was that he couldn't stick to his own belief.  He couldn't believe in himself, and thus had to confess.  He was ashamed of himself for that very reason until love saved him...

Everything was depicted pretty dramatically (it was almost like reading a play script); maybe I thought the second volume was better because I got used to the dramatics and could focus more on the content (and also finally saw that every character - some that seemed unnecessary - had his own role).

Speaking of believing in yourself, I was deeply moved last night by Mao Asada's free skating program, especially after witnessing the failure that hit her the night before in her short program.  I had always looked up on her for her efforts and perseverance.  She always knew that hard work was the only thing that could give you confidence, but often times, it was not enough for her when it came to important games; effort betrayed her over and over, resulting in anger and trauma.  Her desire for the olympic medal deprived her of her confidence yet again in her short program -- another defeat to herself.

But she didn't give up -- finally last night, she nailed a perfect program including a triple axel jump she had waited for so long.  Maybe she had let go of her pride and expectations; she had lost everything, and was back to the state when she had just loved skating and had nothing to lose but her strong will, now evident in every step, every jump.  Asada burst into tears the moment she finished.  When interviewed afterwards, she said rather calmly: "I believed in myself that I could do it.  It was the program I always had in mind and I'm pleased that I did it."  Her words -- her strength -- meant more than a medal.

It was really as if she returned to life under the spell of Rakhmaninov's music, just like the protagonist in the Russian masterpiece found his life once again after his "death".