Marbled Vanity

The fog hasn't lifted, but oddly, after talking about the inter-tidal formations - metaphorically speaking - of said fog with someone else, I feel slightly better. Even though I haven't accomplished much all day, I really think that I needed the decompression times that I spent this past evening reading through other people's blogs. I realized that I've spent the majority of my time looking at other people's blogs searching for a kind of reflection of myself. Now, I'm plagued with the thought that I could have been a modern-day Narcissus or Pygmalion.

I've always sort have admired the classical Pygmalion story, because, although it apparently wasn't written as such, I take it as an admonition against close-mindedness. Pygmalion, a jerk in an innocent sort of way, condemned the women of his town for what he saw was their utter lack of morals (his capacity for self-righteousness was obviously breathtaking) and consequently, sculpted himself a statue of the ideal woman. Of course he fell deeply in love with it, and the Gods - also being jerks but even more so - rewarded his piously callow stance by granting his wish to make the statue a real woman. Pygmalion is no man to admire, but he is someone to learn from. You, and by "you" I mean "me," can't go around judging people without trying to understand them on their own terms first. You (again, "me") only wind up sealing yourself in a marble block of your own cynicism. Everyone could use a little sympathy, and too often, I forget that.