Pixelated People

You may be a pixelated person if.... you ever ask yourself these questions:

Why did I stay in that marriage/job/whatever so long after it stopped being good?

Why do I obsess over things other people don't obsess over so much?

Why do I pick the people and places I pick, even when our closest friends don't get it?

Why do people often advise me to do what they do? *

(*Today Will told Elena, "I'd put that shirt inside the jeans if I were you," to which she said, "But you're not me.  I'm me and this is how I want it.")

I will mercifully restrain myself from making up any more questions because I don't have time at the moment, and anyway I made them up and they have as much scientific validity as a kitchen sponge, but let's start there.

On Tuesday, a friend suggested that we are all made up of parts as distinct as pixels in a digital photograph, and I've been thinking about it ever since.

We stay, obsess, and pick based on the strands in our DNA, our astrological charts, our past experiences, messages from childhood, and other pixel-makers.

According to the Myers Briggs taxonomy, you might be an INFP or an ESFJ or an ENTP, etc.  According to your astrological chart, you might be an Aries or Gemini....  Besides, you've inherited national, religious, and political leanings.  And you've had a childhood unique to you, not even the same as people who grew up in the same house or attended the same schools.

We spend  lifetimes trying to figure out the peculiar person who lives inside our skin. We already have plenty of lenses for describing and labeling our parts, but I'm thinking somebody should create a pixel-print-machine so that we can, on first meeting other people, show our pixel-prints and decide if we're enough of a match not to drive each other completely nuts.