Saturday, April 12, 2008

Who are you?


"The Imagination has moved out of the realm of being our link, our most personal link, with our inner lives and the world outside that world ---this world we share. What is schizophrenia but a horrifying state where what's in here doesn't match up with what's out there?

Why has imagination become a synonym for style?

I belive that the imagination is the passport we create to take us into the real world.

I believe the imagination is another phrase for what is most uniquely US.

Jung says the greatest sin is to be unconscious.

Our boy Holden says "What scares me most is the other guy's face--it wouldn't be so bad if you could both be blindfolded--most of the time the faces we face are not the other guys' but our own faces. And it's the worst kind of yellowness to be so scared of yourself you put blindfolds on rather than deal with yourself..."

To face ourselves.

That's the hard thing.

The imagination.

That's God's gift to make the act of self-examination bearable."


__ "Six Degrees of Separation" John Guare



People often try SO hard to live by the constraints of "reality," whatever it is that they personally hold "reality" to be. Don't wear your pants too tight; you wouldn't want to be seen as a "queer." Don't wear your shirt too high; you don't want to be seen as a "slut." Don't use "curse words" in every other sentence you utter; wouldn't want to be seen as a "menace." Don't go out without brushing your hair; wouldn't want to be seen as "gross and dirty." Don't do this. Don't do that. Be this. Be that. Titles. Assumptions.

We make this "world" harder to live in BY THE MINUTE.

I think i've come to realize something that makes me happy. --> I'm able to carry out numerous different roles without becoming a totally different person, i'm able to be "different" enough to enjoy a handful of different environments, but not so "different" that i lose the sense of "who i am." But then that poses the question of "who exactly are you?"...yes, "who am i?"

There is no me. The closest thing i can think of that i can use to define myself are my thoughts. My thoughts and ideas, i believe, are two of the most powerful parts of me. If someone were to ask me, "who are you?" ... i would have to THINK about my answer... my answer would then be a result of my THOUGHTS. Our THOUGHT PROCESS is what leads us to what we believe "truth" is. So anyway... My THOUGHTS are what follow me around 24/7... sure, thoughts change... and all that does is add to the fact that i'm an EVERCHANGING person. EVERY SECOND IS DIFFERENT FROM THE ONE THAT JUST PASSED AND THE ONE THAT IS ABOUT TO COME. I'M A CONSTANT CHANGE OF PERSONAS. AND I REFUSE TO REMAIN STATIC. I GROW. I CHANGE. I WILL RISE AND I WILL FALL. I WEAVE MYSELF AND MY LIFE THROUGH A MAZE OF DIFFERENT IDEOLIGIES, AND I'LL BE DAMNED IF I EVER FIND MYSELF STUCK IN ONE, SOLITARY IDEOLOGY.

This sometimes causes me to believe that i have a "problem"... i'm not so sure that it's CORRECTLY defined as a "problem" though. This potential "problem" is that i don't really have a concrete stand on anything. You know, people all have things that they firmly believe in... they're able to argue their points and stand up for what they believe in. Me on the other hand, i'll say that i believe in something...but if someone comes along and preaches something on the opposite end that i happen to learn to agree with, i'll drop my stance... and won't back up my point of view... because it will have changed by then. People often see this as "weakness"... i just prefer to look at it as "openess." Before i die, i hope that i can be able to say that i've gotten to experience hundreds of thousands of different things... things that i've always wanted to experience, as well as things that i never would have imagined i would. If life and this world we live in were a big pot of stew, i'd want to sit there for ever, indulging in all it's contents. I want to suck all that i can out of life. I want to live through my imagination rather than my reality. Imagination, i belive, is personal afterall, it's who you really are.

And for now..

In the morning, i'm Liz's best friend. I'm a person for her to carpool with. I'm the person who reads over her papers and checks for grammatical errors as well as making sure that it all makes sense. I'm the person who is sometimes still grouchy during the drive to school from lack of sleep. And on other days, i'm the person who will raise the volume as one of my favorite songs on the radio is playing, singing and bobbing my head all the while.

After that, i'm a student. I'm quiet. In some classes i'm the "studious" girl, and in other classes i'm just plain mute. Some days, as i walk in between classes, i'm the girl who smiles a lot. Other days, during walks between classes, i'm the girl with her head down, too tired to acknowledge the presence of others. No one knows of my volume-raising, head bopping, sing-alonging ways.

After school, i'm the speeder. I'm the materialistic girl driving with her sunglasses, "thinking i'm so cool" with them on. I speed off to work, always in a rush. I'm the "average" American. I'm allowing money and "responsibilities"... and TIME to take over me. I am weak at this part of the day. I'm the girl who will say "you f*cking suck" if you slow down at the yellow light rather then speed off and take it; yes, it's all YOUR fault that i'm going to be late. I'm the type of person who i usually shake my head in dissapproval of. It's almost impossible to imagine that i'm the same girl who can take 20 minutes out of her day to sit, breathe, and relax, thinking of nothing but the rhythm of my breathing.

In the afternoon, i'm a "leader." i'm "teacher." i'm the girl who takes care of elementary school kids. i'm "it" on days that i choose to play tag. i'm part of a "team" on days that i choose to play basketball. i'm an "adult" on days when the 1st graders hold on to my legs and expect me to drag them along. i'm the "nice" leader; the one who often lets things slides... the one who's still too young to know better. sometimes, i'm a kid again. No way am i the girl who curses at cars in front of me.. NO WAY.

In the evening, i'm Mrs. Church-goer. I'm a bible reading, prayer reciting, ministry leader. sometimes, i'm "quiet" again. I'm a helper. I'm a "lighthouse," i'm a "candle," and half the times i don't have a clue as to what i'm "lighting up" at all. I'm suddenly acknowleged as Mexican because everyone around me isn't.

At night, i'm a girl. I go to they gym because i don't want to get FAT, and i just use "i want to be healthy" as an excuse. I trap myself indoors, riding stationary bikes rather than taking a hike in the outside world. I'm a statistic. Suddenly, i'm an "active" person... a person who cares about their "well-being." I'm "young" because i barely reach the age requirement.

Somedays, i listen to Alternative music all day, wear skinny jeans, keds, and a t-shirt. My mexican friends tell me i'm white washed.

Other days, i listen to oldies, and classical music; i dance around to Jackie Wilson, try to make my voice low and manly like Frank Sinatra, or nice and raspy like Billie Holiday. i'm weird.

Rarely, i listen to my mother's ipod... spanish music... and i dance around, imitating what i see at family parties. Suddenly i'm "straight up beaner."

Sometimes, on weekends, i drive around with my brother in his super old toyota truck. I wear sweats and nikes. My long black hair down. Ice Cube's "today was a good day" sounding out through the window. Suddenly, i'm "mexican american."

Other days, i hang out with asians. I eat pho and i buy jasmine milk teas with pearls. I oohhh and ahhh as i look at a break dancing videos. Uh-oh, looks like im a Asiaphile? hah.

Other days, i go to the mall. Get some jamba juice and watch a movie. Drop in to forever 21 and look at the clothes, maybe buy a shirt or two. Walk over to target and buy some Burt's Beeswax. Go to Borders and look at the books. Guess i'm a mall rat... maybe a girly girl.


I go to the library. I read and i study. I sit there for hours, concentrating. Suddently i'm a "school girl."

I'm mean. I'm nice. I'm smart. I'm naive. I'm slow. I'm fast. I'm easy to understand. I'm difficult to grasp. I'm average. I'm unique. I'm awesome. I'm kind of boring. I'm loud. I'm mute. I'm shy. I'm friendly. I'm hot. I'm cold.
I love it when people don't understand me.

ME is all i am. who are you?

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

hey there you mexican, white, asian, quiet, studious, american, girly girl. that was an incredible post. hm. you motivate me to write something similar for my own blog. (i'll be sure to remind myself that i got the idea from you :) Maybe someday i'll be open enough to let people read it. Maybe someday i'll be as brave as you in that respect. anyway, gold stars!

Anonymous said...

omggg, I TOTALLY get what you're saying because I feel the same way too about myself. I'm undefinable, almost, in my opinion anyway, because I'm all those things that you mentioned in this blog, which is quite a lot if you think about it! But many times I can't help but feel that maybe I'm just not sure of who I am yet... maybe I'm still searching for "me?"

Clementina said...

To loosely quote Einstein, "Imagination is better than experience." Gracias for visiting my blog. Have a wonderful tacita de chocolate

Anonymous said...

I wish that more people had your approach to openness. I believe if they did then the world might be a different place. It's not necessarily weakness, but it's giving you the opportunity to say, 'Hey, you know what there might be another answer or another way to do things.' I love people who have a strong sense for things they believe in, but they should keep in the mind that you haven't ever thought of every possibility. Hope that made sense!

blotzer said...

You ask the question, "who are you?” I was like you, ten years ago. I'm not like that anymore; I have found the ability to emotion and look at the world logically. So my thoughts don't define me anymore, they used to - they used to be all I had.

I appreciate the way you have written your thoughts, almost as if your writing flows as fluid onto paper as your thoughts formulate in your mind.