I felt like writing today. Just here. I don't have anything specific to say, but my fingers are wandering over the keyboard anyway, just sorta spilling a stream of consciousness out into this digital void. My mind, as it is, spread thin and translucent over an infinite surface that any who care to look can poke and prod at. Because that's all I am here, a mind. I series of thoughts expressed sequentially as my will exerts itself to share them. For all you know I could be three people who take turns writing entries. Or a very clever dog. True, some of you have met me in person, or talked with me over the phone, or by any number of ways think you've confirmed my existence. But what do you know? You have memories of me, memories you accept as fact. But have you ever asked yourself something like "Now, who did I see that movie with again? It was such a long time ago..." What if one of those people came up and claimed you'd seen the movie with her. What if she said "Hey, do you remember when we went to..." Then the movie would be set. If she could fill in enough details here or there, the memory's as good as new and she's in it. Even if she wasn't there. Our memories are pieces of ideas, fragments fit together by pattern recognition. Look up into the sky during the day and you see clouds. Sometimes they have shapes that you see as an elephant, or a face, or a house, or something else entirely. But to someone else who's never seen an elephant, it's just a cloud. Or maybe something different entirely. You look at the night sky and all it contains are tiny points of light. But your mind can structure images, shapes even among those. What about TV? Colored points of light that from a distance great enough form an image. Your mind takes the fragments of ideas left from events that has occured to you and contstructs something out of it. Sometimes it's like the TV where the points are many and vibrant. But over time they fade. The night sky is more fitting then. So, do you really know me, those of you out there who think they've met me? What about me do you know. Do you remember my face when you saw it? What color were my eyes? Which side is my mole on? What did my voice sound like? How tall was I really? How skinny? How bleeding heart? How depressed? Do you know my favorite color, my favorite flavor? How many of these facts even matter in knowing ME? Am I a construct of my opinions? Am I a construct of my actions? A combination of those, or neither? Am I what I look like? I certainly am to those who've never talked to me. In every person who has ever seen me there's a version of me distorted simply by what they've observed. Do I even know the true me? I look at myself but just like anyone else, I'm an observer. I only know how I act in situations I've been in. How I think I would act in situations I can imagine. But what about those I can't?
So I ask: Who are you. What do you think is the single most important describing aspect of yourself? Or the most important three? Share that. Your best moment. Your worst moment. Who you are.