We the Phoenix

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I promise to share a photo gallery of my recent trip to Portugal next time, but if anyone has read all of my very infrequent posts (bless) you’d have noticed my ever so slight *cough-understatement* obsession with human behaviour (don’t those who find it hard to understand certain subjects often obsess over them…?). I can’t help but keep banging on about it. That is to say, I find human cognition and emotions equally fascinating and abhorrent. Despite what history and our own fixated sense of “God’s Child” self-importance has ingrained in us, we’re definitely the lesser species; however, one of the incredible advantages of being one of the genus Homo is our ability to change and transform our lives by making different choices, and by choosing to think in different ways however much our screeching pride doesn’t want to. There’s argument against this line of thought with some people insisting that humans aren’t capable of change, but I disagree and can only draw on my own experience as backup. But I won’t bore you with that evolving tale, only to say that it’s liberating to confess to wanting a different Life.

Admittedly, the naysayers are correct in some ways. We are essentially the same person from birth to the inevitable end, but it’s the choices we make that shifts the building blocks of our lives and opens doors to alternate possibilities, a chance at rebirth. You are what you are good and bad, yet it’s up to an individual whether to make a good choice or a bad one, in most cases there are many alternatives. Yes? This is true for our thinking as well. In the words of Carl Jung, people are shaped by their childhood and the influences of early family life, yet future behaviour can also be shaped by aspirations. My aspirations have led me to shut myself in my apartment and basically shun society. Hopefully there are some old friends at the end of this indulgent stint (if it ends) that will forgive my lack of social concern, but for now I’d just rather be alone. I may be at risk of becoming an oddball solitudinarian (picture matted hair, crazy eyes, and one-sided mumbling conversations), but I’m not hissing at people from a crack in my door just yet so all’s good. In any case, the day job gets me out. But my other work requires a lot of alone time thinking, writing, and my favourite—procrastinating, which equals to wa-haaaaaay too much Netflix. That reminds me, who watched Stranger Things? Propelled me to nostalgic heaven and reminded me that if we mentally recall our childhood selves we’ll find that all we need to do to better (?) our adult selves is to remember the unconscious values, honesty and sense of fun we held as kids. And stop trying so damn hard all the time. It’s getting boring. Anyway, it gave my quiet and blissfully uneventful Life new meaning for a while there, bring on season two.

On that note I might put my brain on pause for another mo and watch an episode of Downton Abbey.

Hashtag the life of an aspiring writer.

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