Who is Your Authentic Self?


I don’t know if I should have a sense of shame about this (I don’t), but back in college I took a Lit course from a grad student whose initials were BS.  That’s irrelevant.

Some of the books listed were comic books.  It’s how I discovered Maus, a comic that took on the Holocaust.  I highly recommend this comic, if you haven’t read it. It’s beautifully told and composed.  Now that I have that out of the way, I can get back to more important topics.

I thought that I had conceived a completely original idea. I was trying to impress BS to get an A, and we were discussing the Batman comic, one of the stories written by Frank Miller. He went over my writing, pointing out:”so here you have Bruce Wayne assuming the character of Batman” and I, like a smartass, contradicted him. “No. It’s the other way around. Batman is the real person, and he’s assuming the character of Bruce Wayne.”

That idea still fascinates me. I often feel that there are many selves that I have to assume to survive in the everyday world. There is my Professional Self, my Daughter Self, my Social Self, my Other Social Self, my Sarcastic Self, etc. and so on.  All these selves vary, according to who it is that I happen to be associating with.  I think everyone wears masks, to a certain degree. Now the question is, which one of these is the real, authentic self?

My working theory is that the Self who is truly happy is your authentic representation. There can be more than one. There are no rules. It takes a certain degree of self awareness to recognize who you are in relation to others, who you become.  And it takes a different kind of awareness, to know in the heart of your soul, if you truly enjoy being that person.



Honestly WTF

There are a number of ways to personalize your space on the cheap, such as painting a basic shape on your wall, and then pressing a large blob of paper next to it. I like these two complementary colors, and like every DIY, it’s a choose your own adventure, so choose your own contrasting color scheme…choose your own shape.

Happy Doesn’t Give a Damn


Happy is a dog.

At times I speak broadly in metaphors, but once a blue moon I am literal. Happy is gone now, chasing squirrels in the sky gone. I will say this one small thing, which I hold among many dear memories, and that is this: like Rhett Butler, Happy didn’t give a damn.

By the time I knew her, she was in her dotage. And she was doing whatever she wanted. She spit vegetables on the floor, but ate the good stuff.  If she wanted a pet, she came up to you and demanded it. If she didn’t feel like it, she up and left your hand floating in the air.

When we went out, she often had her own agenda, which may or may not have aligned with yours. I found this endearing. It may even have been mutual.

She lived life on her own terms, a smaller, condensed, and furrier version of how I would like to go about my own.



On Stoicism

“When Stoics contemplate their own death, it is not because they long for death but because they want to get the most out of life.  As we have seen someone who think he will live forever is far more likely to waste his days than someone who fully understands that his days are numbered, and one way to gain this understanding is periodically to contemplate his own death…[in order to] to extract the full value of that day – and, hopefully, the days that follow it.”

A Guide to the Good Life, William Irvine

I’ve mentioned Stoicism before, and once I reformat an old posts, I’ll re-mention it again with a link.  I have a fear of wasting my life.  Focusing on the mundane and not living according to my own values.  Stoicism, in practice, has a way of thinking has a way of clearing away the clutter.  It’s like Marie Kondo, but for your mind.