this just kinda came out in a stream of consciousness. It's nothing too remarkable, just kinda felt like posting it. Enjoy.
Who am I?
This question reminds me of a scene in a particular movie called Anger Management. A person joins an anger management group, and in their first therapy session the therapist asks the patient to tell the rest of the group who he is. He tells them his name. The doctor points out that is simple his name, they want to know who he is. The patient goes on listing hobbies, interests, and the schools he attended. All are met with the notion those are just material things, they want to know who he is. Eventually he loses his composure, and yells at the Therapist and group. This was all done for comedic purpose, but it really does pose an interesting question. Who am I? Am I my job, school, talents, and hobbies? Who am I, really?
The question of “who am I?” evolved over time to “what is my ‘self?” When looked up in the dictionary it says it “is the essential being that distinguishes oneself from others.” But what is that being? Is it a physical object that rests somewhere inside out bodies, or is it a simple notion of rationale within out minds? For myself it is a mental idea that denotes what my “self” is to me. But what if I were to befall a tragic accident that cost me my memories? All the events, experiences, every action that I made and was made toward me that created what I believe to be my “self” would be gone in an instant. What would I be then? Would I even have a “self” anymore? Would I have to make a new “self?” It would be like wiping a computers memory clean and filling it with new programs and information. The frame would remain relatively the same, but it would have entirely new ways of operating. So by that logic, could my “self” truly be a physical object within my body? If my memories can be wiped from me am I nothing more than a bipedal, breathing, eating, and learning laptop?
I try not to struggle with this notion too much, for if I did I feel I would miss all the glorious things life has to offer. How can one enjoy their “self” if all they do is obsess over its relevancy, and even its existence? The simple answer is not easily. There are great philosophers who ate, breathed, and slept with this notion on their brains at all times. That was enough for them, getting up in the morning and trying to tackle this notion is what gave them pleasure in life. I however, am I much simpler creature. These notions get very heady, and tedious to me if I am exposed to them for too long. To put it bluntly, I would get up, run, and tackle life to the ground than sit and ponder if my “self” can truly enjoy it.
