Island of mirrors. Doesn't really sound like much of a common thing, does it? I picked that title because I've been doing some introspection which forced me to get a good view of myself, hence the word 'mirrors'. I chose the word 'islands' because it connotes a sense of solitariness, and spending quality time alone has fostered my ability to look inwards. Anyway. During one of my less chatty moments, it occured to me that I had been indecisive about the identity I wanted to assume. That indecisiveness stemmed from a fear that I would eventually lose interest in the person I chose to become and so in a sense, all that deliberate living would have been a waste. Ok so here's a hypothetical example: Feb 4015, Nero (that's me) decides to indulge her love for bygone eras and become a vintage items collector. On the morning of March 23rd, 4020, while brushing her teeth, Nero realizes oh shit, she doesn't give two fucks about the 60's anymore. Or the 70's. Or the 80's. Or..you get the drift. My love for all things old and rusty just doesn't exist anymore. Then it hit me: Perhaps I had attached too much importance to consistency. After all, change, they say, is the only permanent thing. What if my identity wasn't destined to be fixed? What if I am essentially a nomad, restless as a hibiscus fluttering in the wind? This leads me, now, to another question: where do we draw the line between consistency and flexibility? Eishhh, tough one, isn't it?
