Well here’s a little personal tidbit about my life that might make me look weird… oh well. And a nice big ooloo in the air to anyone on the interwebz who thinks so.
For about 15 years of my life, I have been encountering the number 112. It happens randomly, but very frequently, and in all kinds of places. Sure it could just be a coincidence, but this coincidence happens all the time. The obvious starting point that I can remember is the R&B group 112 (who by the way had one of the best jams ever in “Only You”). Then my high school hunny’s pager code was 112. Yeah, pagers. Still had to use quarters to make calls, don’t hate. One of my best buddies to this day lives at a house numbered 112. I caught someone mention it in one of the Die Hard’s just the other week, while watching at the house numbered 112. Just today, 50 Cent of all people wrote on his Twitter that he did “a hundred and 12″ push ups (link). At exactly 1:12 of Mac Miller’s “Kool Aid & Frozen Pizza” (the MP3) track he says, “companies send me clothes so I’m wearing them” … which I actually did. A friend of mine was just in Miami sitting two tables away from Lebron James and Chris Paul, at a restaurant called Prime 112. And so on, and so on.
This isn’t even the extent of it… these are just a fraction of the encounters I’ve had with Mr. 112. It happens every other day, in the most random places, as if it’s being rubbed in my face as a stupid joke. I’m seriously on some Lost sh!t, trying to find meanings to re-occurring numbers. Whatever it is, it’s weird but lets hope it means I’m on the right path in life lol.
Have you ever had something similar reoccur in your life?
This man must’ve gotten so much action.
Anyway, in my Google search for life’s meaning, I came across this sonnet by Shakespeare, called Sonnet CXII, i.e. Sonnet 112. As expected, it’s freaking hard to decipher. From what I can gather, it seems to have to do with a passion/love so strong for someone (or something) that it is all-consuming and seemingly destructive, but focused. I’m no expert on interpreting this stuff though, so I could be completely wrong. If you have any interest in studying it, good luck trying to decipher it and fill me in if you do.
Sonnet CXII.
Your love and pity doth the impression fill
Which vulgar scandal stamp’d upon my brow;
For what care I who calls me well or ill,
So you o’er-green my bad, my good allow?
You are my all the world, and I must strive
To know my shames and praises from your tongue:
None else to me, nor I to none alive,
That my steel’d sense or changes right or wrong.
In so profound abysm I throw all care
Of others’ voices, that my adder’s sense
To critic and to flatterer stopped are.
Mark how with my neglect I do dispense:
You are so strongly in my purpose bred
That all the world besides methinks are dead.