Many people reach a point in their life where they run through a list of things they've learned. It rarely happens when you're young, you're too busy just doing things to think about whether reminiscing has some sort of learning power. It doesn't necessarily happen when you reach the "Been there, done that" stage. Even articulating that maxim just indicates an experience — good or mediocre — something akin to a photo often made as an one-up to a suggestion or a smartass remark to someone else's remembrance.
What may provoke an examination of lessons learned happens as one breaches pass the thirty-mark when routines set in as acceptance of one's self-made reality structures itself. Sometimes the spark just comes from a question from a child or grandchild or niece or nephew.
A jealously can stir the question when reading about or knowing of the travel or risky adventure of another. It could force a retraction back into your life, a compensation of sort or counter against what could have happened. Another time could when malaise sets in caused by a long-term job or a relationship or a well-trodden pattern. Sometimes it happens when the strains of being "someone" fall away with amazement and satisfaction moves aside biological prerequisites, leaving you wonder if dying means the end of thinking.
I'm at that point. So, here are my "Things I have learned:"
Even though I try not to, I still flip off overly aggressive and stupid drivers. Guilt comes almost immediately.
Political parties are like drama clubs in high school, which the administration applaud and creative people avoid.
Appreciation of the arts has gotten worse as violence has lost any sensibility of meaning and sex a mishmash of gender identity confusion and body autonomy demands amid the perennial provocation of the male.
Half the political pundits could be replaced with everyday people who read a variety of publications and social media outlets and have talked with people other than another American.
Nine (though the number is disputed) human species have existed on earth and left, leaving homo sapiens. That's not a good sign.
My urge to seek the company of others only appears sporadically. I talk more with my cats and the Muscovy ducks that come daily to my home seeking bird seed.
Nonhumans are adept at communicating. Our clutter of linguistic stumbles is a big reason for the failure of humans in preventing eventual extinction.
Technology has made living less human.
Young people generally ignore anyone over 50 and old people get caught staring at young people as if pining for more hair or less weight.
I won't apologize for my pass drinking and drug taking. Everyone was doing it then in a mass effort of self-medication to hold off becoming an epitome of blandness or a fractured example of failure.
Considering there are approximately 18,000 police departments in America with their own recruiting and training standards, particularly in how to view a civilian, I never trust a cop, though I'm polite.
Most people who read, write. Others just collect books that they occasionally use like an antique kitchen utensil.
A podcast is easier to be on than to write a book, but it seldom tracks the evolution or devolution of a culture or advances a scientific milestone.
It's nice to hope America stays a democracy then the reality of its structure sets in.
Controversies centered on acceptance of race, gay, trans, or religious differences are being tailored by infantile brains addicted to tribal instinct. The ridiculous of it shrouded by nescience.
A handgun has replaced the fist, and sorrow dampened by legalized gun worship.
The purity of science is being corrupted by the power of those who control the money. Planting the flag of capitalism in the lab or on the moon will not advance humanity.
There's a scatterbrain aurora around the elevation of the word "woke" that bastardizes the English language and shrinks the image of proponents and foes.
The more you know the less romance seems to intrude yet the missing of it doesn't leave. The messiness of it can sanction an endearing mark.
I agree with Kerouac that God is a Pooh Bear, one that humans can't explain but like to cuddle.
Interesting conclusions. Although a couple sent me to the dictionary (Google), I think I agreed with most, especially the last one.