A Deep Narcism

Human beings are amazing in the ability to imagine, express, process, and emphasize with different realities, usually created by different human beings. Be the format in literature, in painting, in film, or merely an idea in your head. Regardless, we are able to use our brains to create beautiful and complex fictional worlds.

But we're not so good at some things. I mean, can you imagine a new color? In any case, one that particularly peeves me is the whole "aliens" genera of fiction. The most obvious pitfall is when you see aliens that are humanoid or resemble anything living on our own world. I mean, who says that bipedalism (or quadrupedalism) is the best or only way to transport oneself in traditional space over solid terrain? And the thought that all living organisms keep both their central nervous system and most of their major sensory organs on a venerable, extended appendage? Preposterous!

Not to mention that they're carbon based, water necessitating, solid-food consuming creatures. Or that they see in "visible" light. Or that they smell. They tolerate the same approximate temperature range. And goodness knows what else! Some people have gotten far even by my standards, yes, but the fact that most of our media seems dependent on the idea that life that evolved isolated from our biogenetic influence somehow ended up similar to ours shows a deep seated, and often unnoticed, narcism.

Now, in a way, our inability as a people to conceive of something truly and unspeakably new makes the moment when we view another complex organism all the more awe inspiring! The chemistry that it creates, the biology of it as a whole would be mind-blowinly fascinating merely due to the fact that we could not have conceived of it unless we where to actually be beholden to it. And it guarantees that when, if, we do meet life on an exoplanet, humanity as a whole will be amazed. As Shakespeare once said; "There is more on heaven and earth, than is dreamt of in your philosophy."

Mistakes Abound

I get very depressed and unresponsive every time I think about the fact that I seem to regret pretty much everything I've said and done. Why did I say that? Why didn't I do that? So on and so forth. And I doubt I'm alone in this. We grimace at the memory of what we used to be, how silly, how stupid we were. We see ourselves in hindsight and cringe at it. Remembering how you handled something with fondness is like finding money stuck in a library book. Unexpected and pleasantly surprising.

And this is paradoxical. The fact that we see our mistakes means that we can learn form them, which in turn means that we are evolving and refining ourselves. That thought alone should be enough to counteract the regret of your actions, or lack thereof. But instead we're cursed to linger on and exaggerate the gaffes of or past selves.

Evolutionarily speaking, it does makes sense. Those who remember their missteps more acutely than others are less inclined to make the same mistake twice, which, in the wild, can be lethal. Human nature has evolved in order to cause us to make as few mistakes as possible, particularly social. But sometimes it goes too far, and the bitterness over your past is enough to drive anyone mad.

And thinking along those lines, anyone who says your mistakes don't define you, well, think about it more carefully. Your choices define you, do they not? So, mistakes are a slice of that pie. You can't just ignore something that influences your thought processes so profoundly, both logically and emotionally, merely because you don't like your self-criticism.

But I suppose the best thing we can do is to just learn from our oversights and make the best of it. Just because you don't like it or agree with it doesn't mean that you can just ignore your past, lest your future pay.