It’s All Subjective Anyway

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. About philosophy and reality. Heavy stuff, I know. That whole idea from Descartes about reality being just a figment of our imagination. Both scary and king of thought provoking or tempting at the same time. I mean, if I could just imagine a totally different life tomorrow? Take away all the crap and have it the way I want it? Man, who wouldn’t want that?

What I really need right now is a ‘Q’ moment. Like that one episode of TNG where Q shows Picard how his life would have been different – drastically – because of one simple choice. Wish I could just look at that and see.

And why is it that memory is so subjective? Probably because it involves people. How can two people remember – or not remember – an event so incredibly differently? I mean, I can remember every detail of one past New Year’s Eve as clearly as if it were yesterday. After spending the evening with friends, a dear friend and I struck out on our own to look at lights and hang out – and ended up in one of those horrible, logical, non-shouting big deal ‘discussions.’ I remember what they said. I remember the pain – it cut me to the core and didn’t stop. I cried and cried. I cried for two days, basically – until my eyes swelled so much that I had to go to the ER to get my contacts taken out because my eyeballs were so swollen. I held onto that hangdog pathetic ‘poor me’ attitude for a while. But it didn’t work. It didn’t solve the problem.

So what happened? My competitive streak kicked in. I was going to show them. Prove that I could be smarter, prettier, thinner, more talented and a better friend than anyone else could be. That didn’t work either. Still doesn’t, sadly enough.

And my friend? They don’t remember any of it. None. Zero. Zilch. They remember only that our friendship was peaceful and happy the entire year.

How is that? I mean, really? Can they really not remember? Or are they lying? I can’t think of any reason why they would have to lie to me now, after all this time. It just seems really Matrix-like that I have all of these detailed memories – and they don’t Just a vague sense of contentment and happiness. Any what really sucks is that I’m the one carrying around the negative stuff. Not them. Me.

Why is that? Is it just my tendency toward the negative? My cursedly accurate memory? Or is that really not how things went down at all – and just my skewed perspective of events?

It’s weird. Really weird. Definitely something to ponder – what if the people we know and situations in which we find ourselves are all just figments of our imagination?

Leave a comment

Filed under Choices, Memory, Perspective, Reality, Star Trek

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s