We argue against two popular claims. The first is a descriptive, empirical thesis about the nature of ordinary human experience: 'each of us constructs and lives a "narrative" . . . this narrative is us, our identities'; 'self is a perpetually rewritten story . . . in the end, we become the autobiographical narratives by which we "tell about" our lives' 'we are all virtuoso novelists. . . . We try to make all of our material cohere into a single good story. And that story is our autobiography. The chief fictional character . . . of that autobiography is one's self'.
The second is a normative, ethical claim: we ought to live our lives narratively, or as a story; a 'basic condition of making sense of ourselves is that we grasp our lives in a narrative' and have an understanding of our lives 'as an unfolding story'.A person 'creates his identity [only] by forming an autobiographical narrative – a story of his life', and must be in possession of a full and 'explicit narrative [of his life] to develop fully as a person'.
But at times, a cohere single good story doesn´t necessarily means development. At times, we simply don´t cry for the trees. That´s when we become "Episodics", when we stop making sense of ourselves.
The following is just a sip of an Episodical dialogue we had with ourselves and our zillion different kinds of personalities.
-Yo dog! Long time no see, bitch! What happened to ya?
-You have to believe in God, son...daughter...it. Otherwise you are going to get so screwed.
-Don´t you dare going back into that lame meditation state of yours!
-Well, I have no choice. Plus, it reminds me of my daughter singing when she was young.
-That´s awesome! Was she any good?
-Yeah, hm... no, she wasn´t. I was four months pregnant, actually. And, you know, it wasn´t exactly what we would call a bed of roses. You see, at that time I was building myself a "I´ve-seen-Jesus-and-He-told-me-to-stop-with-the-dope" sorta crap, but it was really hard cuz...
-Wow! I don´t even wanna blink now! Cut me some slack, chum!
-That´s ok, kid, you can blink. That´s one of the demands I had previously approved and have recently taken back, becase I can, and because now my puppys can close their eyes everytime, everywhere, and so can our soldiers, as ther limbs burst and burn and fly away in the air, pretending to dance...
-Oh, dude! That´s hardcore! And... I wasn´t going to bring the subject up, but, you look kinda fat.KINDA. What´s up with that? Are you growing some kinda worm in there?
-You´re right, kid.There is no word dog backwards.There is no peace. You have to comprehend that the best things in life are health, FOOD, and less hopefully, love. It´s cold out there. It´s storming, it´s raining. But most sad, is the rain inside our hearts... I say seize the day. Pull the trigger. Drop the blade and watch the rolling hills...
-You son of a ...
-Sorry. For the first time in my whole life I guess I could have been polite.
-C´mon you skinny ecosexual freako! I´m here to argue about people being murdered in cold blood, about children being born with AIDS, and since you claim there´s no doG you wanna keep flowing, down on your knees, outshined and sleeping?
-Tsc, Tsc, Tsc... What a bad girl. You could have just said you are grateful. No bad words, no bitter feelings...
-Yeah, Yeah, sure... so, I´m gonna go now. Cuz you... this baloney... that´s lame and... anyways, you know where to find me. I´ve got some cows to milk. See you later, like, never.
-No, you suck.
This writing was done in one of the very first sessions of the club this semester, as an exercise. The brains behind it are those of Sophia Suh, Amanda Pertinhes and Luam Gabriel, the "Episodics" in question.
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