Gliffing paradoxes--Reg, sci-fi,and butterflies

I have a love-hate relationship with paradoxes. Which, of course, is paradoxical, because I love them at the same time that I hate them.

I referenced some posts ago the butterfly paradox. The paradox is this: once a philosopher dreamed he was a butterfly. Once he woke he wondered if he was the butterfly dreaming he was the philosopher or the philosopher dreaming he was a butterfly. Quite a pickle, if you ask me. As a child I had similar thoughts about dreams and what is reality, making this "butterfly paradox" particularly interesting.

Pondering paradoxes is lovely because it gives my brain something to wrap itself around without solving. Something to attempt but not complete. The "why" of them makes the world a mysterious place, less dreary and common. Solutions are boring. That's what happens in Statistics.

I hate paradoxes because they make no gliffin' sense. As a struggler finding the meaning of life, unsolved mysteries as to whether I am a zebra swallowtail butterfly or a human being do not bring me any closer to answers, they piss me off.

I'm ranting about paradoxes because I was watching a sci-fi television show (Dr. Who), all invested in the astonishingly hot main character to fall for the cute red-head, when this random 40ish woman with ugly hair shows up claiming to be his wife.

Not. Ok.

Later, some cheesy special effects and weird hard-to-believe sci-fi faux-science later, it is explained that they both travel in time. In opposite directions. The first time he met her, she knew all about him. Then she died. They keep meeting, and the more times he sees her/gets to know her, the less she's seen/knows him. Which is another stupid gliffing paradox.

But, minus the cheesy sci-fi, is poignantly romantic. Which is why I can't stop thinking about it.

Always your butterfly,
Regette