So, I'm back from my petite holidayette and I am trying to get my brain back in gear. All those deep philosophical thoughts I was having before I went have been overwhelmed by the sights and sounds of new places and, I'll admit it, by relaxing and being happy. There's a thought - does one only have deep philosophical thoughts when one is unhappy? Nah - don't think so for a minute; I've had some of my best ideas sitting in sunshiney bliss surrounded by flowers and buzzy bees.
So anyway, any truth I laid claim to knowing on the topic of existentialism, optimistic nihilism et al I appear to have forgotten. Or perhaps it's having difficult questions posed by you fellow-bloggers out there... whatever, I don't know now whether I belong to a philosophical ism and if I don't, whether it matters. "Me" suggested in a comment that if Sartre and Camus had never lived that I couldn't have called myself an existentialist - I think I'm stating his comment correctly. I've been thinking about this and I don't think I agree, at least not completely. I call myself an existentialist because Camus describes in his writings exactly how I feel about life (haven't read any Sartre so can't say if I agree with him.) But Camus didn't invent these feelings or this state of mind or this attitude to life, he just described it better, more elegantly and more humanely than anyone else I've read. So when I call myself an existentialist it is, I suppose, shorthand for saying "Camus speaks for me." Perhaps I should call myself a Camusian.
By way of a present from my holiday, here's a jolly (and sustaining) quote from the bear of very little brain:
"When you wake up in the morning, Pooh," said Piglet at last, "what's the first thing you say to yourself?"
"What's for breakfast? said Pooh. "What do you say, Piglet?"
"I say, I wonder what's going to happen exciting today?" said Piglet.
Pooh nodded thoughtfully."It's the same thing," he said.
Hope you all had a good summer - here comes winter...