Does that make me a liar?
Why don’t clothing manufacturers just print washing instructions on the inside of clothes?
The only time when negative results are a positive thing.
Every single time I hear this formulation put forward in one of its multiple permutations (e.g., “Language is what distinguishes us from other species”; “Creativity is what differentiates us from animals”; “No, wait. It’s intelligence!”), I go through a series of automatic reflexes:
1) Yawn. Yes, it’s boring to hear the same refrain repeated to exhaustion.
2) Yuck! Are we really that self-centred and attention-seeking? Why is our need to feel special almost always stronger than our ability to recognise that we are but one species among millions? In the greater scheme of things we’re really not that special or unique.
3) WRONG! Please, use some critical thinking and stop jumping the gun. Who are we to say that of all the species in our planet we’ve been granted the exclusive rights to intelligence, creativity, language, music, play, feelings, etc.? We should read more books. Specifically, those reporting results from comparative psychology and ethological research. And when in doubt, not just assume we’re the one and the only.
Rather than spotting the differences, I personally feel we should spend more time connecting the dots. But hey, let’s do both. As long as we drop the self-aggrandising attitude and recognise that we’re made of the same building blocks as roaches and pigs, and actually that’s really kind of cool, we might even begin to understand how it is we fit in this huge and complex puzzle we got ourselves randomly embedded in.
“They say, the definition of madness is doing the same thing and expecting a different result.” The Hives – “Try It Again”
No. That’s the definition of Popperian falsifiability.
“Como es posible que haya estado en tus infiernos
Es imposible, no, misterio, y quien tuviera su don
Sería posible conocerte más por dentro
No lo conseguiré, saber más de ti”
“Club de Fans de John Boy”, Love of Lesbian
I wouldn’t dare to expect anyone to know me better than my favourite singer-songwriters.
Or think less.
Some people will come (and surprise you).
Some people will go (before you’re ready).
Some people will linger (…).
At last count there were approximately 7 046 billion humans in the world.
(Unless you find your way to an inhabited planet with a welcoming atmosphere) you will never be alone.
PS: cherish the ellipsis. You never know how long it lasts…
All the mucus that my overachiever immune system insists on producing makes me feel like the unimpressive exorcist.