I am in two minds.
One mind says that there is no you. The “you” is fluid, constantly changing with time and experience.
One says that you are what you do, again and again and again. This post describes the latter
This post is something different. It doesn’t make you learn anything new, it doesn’t ask you to put on your thinking caps. Only to listen. I skip around topics, lacing all of them with your fragile attention spans, hoping what I ramble on a Monday 2 AM makes some sense.
A painter is only called a painter when he paints as his bread and butter. A doctor is only called a doctor when he save lives on a regular basis. If I wish to be called a businessman, I must be conducting an activity that satisfies ones needs and is willing to pay for it.
Similarly, if you want to be called a helpful or a good person, you must help everyone/ be nice regardless of any barriers. You’ll only be called a dumbass when you’re dumb most of the times. This post makes no sense, yet I am writing it. Am I a writer? Hopefully.
When something is done once too many times, one generally gets to be known for it. When one does something again and again and again, one starts to do it subconsciously. It’s automatic, like on autopilot. People know you by “that thing” you always do. You repair the unrepairable, you’re a handyman. You play piano well, you’re an artist. You talk too much nonsense, you’re cuckoo.
We all know we want that elusive kick of self centred ego. That tag people know us by, stroking our pride, our fruits of labour. The “Dr.” Tag, the “Shri” tag, the “master” tag.
Hey look, I’m not against it. It also shows responsibility and competence. Who’d you like to be treated for piles from? Whose gloved fingers would you like a rectal exam from- Dr. Dikshit, or Mr. Xyz ? so, am I for or against labels? Frankly, the world would be a better off without a few cuckoos.
As I said, this post makes no sense.
Yours truly. Mr. Cuckoo
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