Is this wat we really want??

Again a friday to do my post...i shld say i m lucky to be on a status."without work"..on this friday.. too..
so the question that im putting forth is a simple one.
-----""is this wat we really want""-----------
in the other sense.."ARE WE SATISFIED"...
...or......."SHOULD WE STAY SATISFIED"...

answer we have is not staright forward....... i know
although i think..those..who ve a vision...of something..dey ve always dreamt of doin...
and are on the verge of doin such things..do have a definite and precise answer, I guess.

Are we not special in some or other way.
Are we not Different from others..in many ways....

Then y not...pick on our speciality....(am I sounding boring..with these..moral science..statements??)

The answer wat ..I suppose is ..that,we are bounded by a lot of parameters around us.
May be the MOB that is around us..or their dreams effecting ours....our the social setup..dat surrounds...or may be the financial status....can be any tiny thing.
There are ""A LOT"" of things that in one way or the other..affect us..

One obviously cant ..throw away those......
But can live with it n still "WIN"......Den again "WIN" status had different meanings for different people...I really dont feel dat i m in a state of success..... I also dont consider myself as a failure..... either.. I would say..Im growing..progessing..enhancing....wat ever....I always try to make sure to compare me with myself....n makesue that the person dat i was today is 1 % better than I was yesterday..I think dat if I could do this for a longer period.....I would definitely...succeed!!!

I think i should be laconic....perhaps.... Any ways...I am on my way discovering things......everybody does...dat...."" I think I ll end up discovering MYSELF"".......

TO BE OR NOT TO BE-----WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

William Shakespeare - To be, or not to be (from Hamlet 3/1)
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action. - Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd..................