(~simul iustus & peccator~) (lovelies) wrote,
(~simul iustus & peccator~)
lovelies

I've been thinking about memetics a lot, lately. About how my memes seem to fall into two categories: those that I want to project (and consciously cultivate for this purpose), and those that I naturally embrace. It's surprisingly seldom that they interlace. For example, I love to read encyclopedias. I've been reading them ever since I learned how to read. My favourite book, when I was a kid, was Arthur C. Clarke's The Exploration of Space. I read it dozens of times. I love books that teach me a wide variety of facts in a concise manner. And yet, when ever I'm inquired about my favourite book, that's not what I say. What I answer depends on who's asking.

And the same is true for all sorts of memes. Music, cinema, art. Am I embarrassed of my first-level memes? I don't know that I am. But they're not what I wish to project. And what I project, I suppose, is a kind of armour between me and the world. Why I feel the need to do something like this is whole 'nother bag of potatoes, but I have been doing it, I venture, ever since I learned from childhood chums that there were things you were supposed to like, even if you didn't.

Maybe that's something everybody does, to a degree. Have private, slightly shameful proclivities. I mean, as far as dirty little pleasures go, I'm sure I could do a lot worse than Wikipedia. More sad? That's for you to decide.

But the question is, if I nurture two distinct conglomeration of memes, does that make me two different people? Is what we are merely an aggregate of memes and the memories that store them? Memes differ from genes in that we actively choose and reject them. And whence does the initial impulse for these choices come from, if not from previous choices, and yet more previous? Is it fair that the kind of person I am today is ultimately defined by, for example, the sort of cartoons I was made to watch as a child? The sort of toys I was offered, the kind of games I was introduced. And what sort of assbackward cultural factors went into making the all-important, all-defining question of modern of life "Who am I, really?", anyway. 
Subscribe
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

  • 0 comments