Existential Crisis #... who knows?!
May as well try to count the number of grains of sand on the beach. Or the number of waves rolling into shore.
My life is one long, rambling series of episodes of existential questioning...
The basics: Who am I? Where am I? What am I doing? What's it all about? Why a Duck? WTF?
I try to swim back to the origin story. You know, time-trip back to the misty shore of my first existential crisis.
I'm thinking it started in kindergarten. The place I first discovered I actually wasn't the center of the universe. I was surprised to discover there were other little people who believed they were the center of the universe.
I remember building a little wall with cardboard bricks. A kid came up and knocked my wall down, and I hit him in the head with a cardboard brick. An act of cardboard violence. There were screams and tears, and after bit of a tussle, we were separated and it was determined by the teacher that I was the instigator/criminal.
I was banished to my rug to think about the bad thing I did. I considered myself, "falsely accused," although, really, I was guilty, I did hit that kid in the head with a cardboard brick. I remember laying on my rug, thinking: Who am I? Where am I? What am I doing? What's it all about?
Pretty sure that was Existential Crisis #1... a certain pattern was established...
