Time really does fly. It marches like an unstoppable force. But our memories of the past events and our perception of time are not so immutable. In-the-moment experience and the memory of such are so very different. Our memories are problematic, at best, and completely fictional at worst. But we can choose what we remember; we can shape our own history.
The most interesting things happen (good and bad) during times of flux. That’s when possibilities open up, and we feel free to act different and make unfamiliar choices. That is why so many stories start with the hero or protagonist arriving at a new location. Things happen when unfamiliarity is abound.
Tamagotchis, AI companions, cars, and even rumbas have people that are heavily emotionally invested in these inanimate and abstract things, giving them pet names and interacting with them as if they were invested with souls. Perhaps humans jump to anthropomorphism inanimate objects faster than other species. But we are not alone in attributing life in this way. I wonder if intelligent life that evolved on other worlds possesses this trait as well? Is it a sign of higher consciousness or is it just an Earth thing?
We live in a bizzar age when fantastical dissembling is presented as truth. It is left up to us as people to figure out what is real and what is not. And it is a very hard skill to master.
Whenever it comes, death seems very unfair, and humans have been hard at work on combating this scourge for as long as we can remember. After decades of self-investment via education, relationships, employment, children, hobbies, travel and experiences, who wants to just give it all up? We hate death when it comes at an old age, when it cuts short life in its prime, and perhaps particularly when it gets the young before they had a chance to live. Humans have longed to extend their lifespans or, barring that, the memory of their existence for as long as we have records of humanity.
Those who crave fame don’t truly appreciate anonymity. And those who have it, desire to find a way to hide from it. We live in the world where everyone seems to want their 15 minutes of fame and attention. For artists and writers having a wide audience is must if they want to sign with large agencies to represent them, if they want their work to be bought and sold. Or even if they want representation by an agent or a contract with a publisher — everyone wants an established market for stories.
We mark the passage of time through personal milestones and seasonal holidays. Another major marker is bearing down on us — December! All the gift giving, family gatherings, end-of-year parties, and toasting mark another round trip around our star. We are on a continuous ride through time and space. We are never at the same place at the same time. Our lives are flux personified. Change is the thing that lives are made of. Humans hate change. We always yearn for the good old days even as we don’t remember them personally and even when we totally misunderstand history. Nostalgia is big. Change seems bad. I get it. I’d rather go the same old restaurant, order the same food, and wear the same comfortable clothing year after year. When my favorite store closes, I take it personally. When my neighborhood changes, I take it as an affront. I want things stable and familiar. I don’t want to spend my mental resources learning useless-to-me new ways of doing things. And I have a sense that most people are more like me than not, given that we all fall somewhere on the spectrum of hating novelty to needing it. So when the…
