This morning I was in the middle of a bowl of muesli when I suddenly thought to myself: I’ve had approximately 11,500 breakfasts and I’m still not bored, on the contrary I honestly believe I enjoy breakfast now more than ever and hopefully I have plenty more to look forward to! Then I thought to myself : Who is this self I am thinking to?
Who am I? Who is I? If I am not myself then who or what is? I is the 9th letter of the Latin alphabet (after H and before J) but it’s also a word, the first person singular pronoun in English. We use it to refer to ourselves. It’s capitalised, whereas you, he, she and it are not. It’s important. I is important. But am I important? I was beginning to have my doubts.
I spun a yam and clung to Kent. Metaphorically, of course. I still don’t know what that means. How do you spin a yam? Is it a sweet potato or just really similar, how do you cling to a county and why would you want to? My primal sense of self, the poor defenceless creature, was under threat once more. The burden of existence thrust upon me without prior warning or consent, the overwhelming triviality of life bearing down on me, pulverising my moth-eaten, weather-beaten soul. Then I looked outside and saw that it was raining. So I turned on the TV. I watched for a moment and said to myself: It is raining outside, I don't know who I am, I am currently unconvinced of my purpose in life but at least I am not on the Jeremy Kyle show. I is not Jeremy Kyle, I is whoever you want I to be. Grammatically this all sounds very problematic, but existentially it is a walk in the park. Enjoy...
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