A Brief and Slightly Nonsensical Musing on Reincarnation



I should love to have
this hat.

 Do you, my dearest readers, believe in reincarnation? I didn't, and am not quite sure that I do now. But I find myself 89.97899% sure that I have, in fact, been reincarnated. So I am thus inspired to cheerfully begin a brief and probably not very profitable quest on mining out exactly what I think. Perhaps we may convince ourselves of something (...I wouldn't count on it, though).
 To make things scholarly and legit, I shall list a definition of reincarnation:
                  Re·in·car·na·tion/ˌrē-inkärˈnāSHən/Noun

1. The rebirth of a soul in a new body.
2. A person or animal in whom a particular soul is believed to have been reborn.
The basis for my own questioning belief in my reincarnation is actually quite simple: from a young age, I have always loved old things. Seriously, how many modern 10 year olds do you know who watched period dramas of their own decision and liking them? Actually, this number might actually be really high, if only for the homeschoolers coming forth in all their awesomeness. But I don't really know any such 10 year olds. How many 12 year olds do you know who wanted to decorate their room after the Victorian vintage shabby chic style, instead of plastering their walls with various posters of greasy haired singers and commercially pouting actors? Although, this could have everything to do with the fact that my dad would kill me if I attempted to paste anything on my walls, especially a commercially pouting actor, and have nothing to do with my supposed reincarnation. Nevertheless, so it was for me. How many 13 year olds do you know who actually rather liked to go to antique stores? Now, this is a truly legitimate enquiry. I highly doubt that there are many such rare birds as that.
  So, I really love old things. That is my first piece of evidence. My second piece of evidence doesn't really look like evidence unless you turn your head a precise 90* and squint your eyes. It is this: I am really quite adept with things related to history and literature. But! This has a limit. I have never really liked learning modern-ish history, but this was confirmed when I recently took History of Civilization. The first semester went from...Creation, and stuff, and went to about 1800. I got an A in that class. The second semester went from 1800ish through modern stuff. I got a C. This is conclusive (*snort*) evidence that I am only good with history and such through the 1930s. After that, I am sunk. This leaves me to believe that if I am indeed reincarnated, it was before this time in history.
  Now let us go back to the definition of reincarnation: the rebirth of a soul in a new body. If my understanding is correct, there can be some time that passes between the death of the one body/soul thing before the soul is placed in a new body. Ta-da! Es moi, 1992! (Consequently, I turn 19 in less than 2 months). Thus, it may be assumed that my soul has passed from body to body consistenly from the beginning of time (after, you know, Adam and stuff...) right through the entire course of history until the 30s. My soul unconciously recognizes the things about history that it remembers and loves, and it translate through to this reincarnation of myself.
  Though I am still not entirely sure that my soul has existed that long, one cannot doubt that there is a strong possibility that it may be so. At least, despite all this rambling in a silly way, I have accomplished my three-fold purpose of putting down my silly thoughts in writing, distracting both myself and you from my literary quest, and keeping you entertained enough to read this drivel. :)
  Dear readers, I do love you. Hope you have an amazing day.