Project 313 – Post No. 146

This is the fourth post in under one hour of effort. Boy, I’m cranking through these without regard for quality or substance . . . not that anyone will notice the difference. No, not being self-deprecating . . . I’m just that good at everything I do no matter the effort I put into it.  

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. 

We do that, don’t we? We make stories in which we are the protagonists. Something happens and the memory you form of the event has you and any other people represented as characters in a story used to recount the event going forward. 

And, it’s not like these stories are written in stone. Nope; it’s more like a cork board where we pin various snippets, bits of information, and then arrange and rearrange to suit the story we like to hear. 

This isn’t me just making stuff up. Repeated tests on varied populations of subjects prove this conclusively. Memories are not perfect recordings. Events are seldom correctly remembered. Have you ever looked at a photo — even one you took — and were surprised because that’s not how you remembered things? Ever argued with family or friends over shared events remembered differently?

Some think, and I agree, this all has to do with the story we’d like to tell ourselves about ourselves. For instance, we’re seldom villains. Even when we can’t really see ourselves as heroes, we opt for victim instead of the villain.

Understand, I’m not denying heroism, victimhood, and anything in between. But, I don’t know — and I’ve never known — anyone who sees themselves as the mustache-twirling-while-maniacally-laughing-villain.  

I mentioned photos and these days photos are as unreliable as our memories. That’s because we pose . . . we offer up photos depicting ourselves and events the way we wish them to be.

It’s a bit like when you have company over; you clean a little better, dress a little better, and avoid loudly burping, farting, or doing anything that at any other time might come natural but may be counter to a socially accepted version of reality. 

There’s one thing that might help you remember your life with a bit more accuracy (if you’re honest with yourself) . . . a diary. 

I don’t keep one because I have perfect recall, but others should certainly consider keeping a diary since they so often contradict my perfect memory of things.

And now, the photo:

Project 313 146

Another version of this most-interesting flower. 

This next cartoon — aside from being funny — has one thing that differentiates it from most of Joe Martin’s offerings. See if you can spot it. 

There’s no breaking of the Fourth Wall; no one is looking back at the reader. I just noticed it as I posted it here. I’ll now have to see if that happens in other offerings of his. 

I’ve shown pretty snazzy versions of the Woobly Wheel of Time but there was a time, long ago, when the wheel was made from whatever material was at hand.

Like . . . The Wooden Wobbly Wheel of Time.

The Wooden Wobbly Wheel of Time

And . . . that’s it

Some of these posts will likely be longer as the mood hits me, but most will be thus; short, uninteresting, bland, and relentless.

You can read about Project 313 HERE.

That’s it. This post has ended . . . except for the stuff below.

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