History Lesson

Lately, I’ve been wondering if the universe truly does revolve around me.

Actually, I started thinking about this awhile back. Back when I formulated the theory — just a theory, mind you — that the existence of everything began the moment I was born. Or maybe not until I could clearly form a memory ... so, maybe it all happened when I was umpteen months old and on the verge of being potty-trained — close enough that, standing in my crib, I was aware that I had to go poo, but my mom was on the telephone and I could not get her attention, and I had to go in my diaper except in my potty chair.

Or perhaps it was the time I was standing by the front door and looked up at my mom and said, “Goddamn son-of-a-bitch!” — just because I had heard someone say it, sometime, and also because I wanted to see what Mom would say or do if I said it. (She opened her eyes really wide and yelled, “Diana Lynne! Don’t you ever say that again!” [I think we may have had company at the time.])

: )

So, that’s my theory: That the universe began the instant I was aware of it. That everything in history is all part of a collective consciousness (mine!).

Besides, there really is no such thing as time. They’ve proven it (sorta?) on the moon.

: )

Doesn’t matter, anyway: History gets rewritten all the time ... at least in MY universe.