Since I posted the entry about sleep paralysis not too long ago, I have been thinking about the common delusion that we are all totally unique. You see, in doing a library search for articles on the topic and a later google search, I came across hundreds and maybe thousands of accounts, websites, and blog/message board postings describing experiences of sleep paralysis. Not as though I looked at every one, but got a lot of hits. Whatever your particular interests, experience or affliction (and especially fetish), there are already thousands of people out there who have the same thing taking up part of their lives too.
Is there anything we can do or have happen to us that is ours and ours alone? Not bloody likely. Get thrown from a horse while trail riding? Yup – those old nags do it every time. Taught English in Japan? There are thousands of us who’ve taken that gig. Keep garbage cans under the sink and a drawer full of twist ties and pizza menus next to the stove? So does everyone else. Into gourmet cooking and farmers markets on Saturday mornings? Join the herd, sheep. Knitting – ditto.
Last night I was looking at the sunset, and at the neighbouring high rise. It was about 6 pm and all the TVs were glowing in the apartments – all in the exact same spot of the living room.
If we are in any way unique, as the prevailing cultural mythology encourages us to believe, it is mainly in the combination of our particular passions and the intrinsic me-ness that allows our mothers to tell us apart from other people’s idiot stepchildren.
Perhaps there is a blog meme someone will create entitled “What Insufferable Type Are You?” Oh wait, they all try to say that. I’m a secondhand-clothes shopping, book-lovin’, culture girl who is weary of irony and hates logos. What tired old stereotype are you?

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