I Write, Therefore I Am

Who am I? Who are you? Do we only know we exist because we can think or love or speak or act? What factors determine who we are and are we only who we are relative to the people around us? If you had to define me what would you say? If I had to define you what would I say?
The most exciting thing about life is that we each have the ability to create our own identifies. Every birthday my mom reminds me that I was born "kicking and screaming." This identity, she claims, has followed me throughout the course of my life. That same rebellious, wild, tempestuous child has evolved into a rebellious, wild, tempestuous youth. Lately I feel like I've done a good job of suppressing this side of myself. This is in large part because of school. Identity, however, is trickier than this. We are constantly forging new identities. We forge them through relationships. The relationships we form with other people, media, books, games, new experiences, sports, work, play, theories, religions, perspectives, and other inanimate and animate objects ultimately shape how we choose to be at any given moment in time. Identity is constantly shifting. To describe a person as "happy" is a general assumption that offers a biased account of a person who inevitably is capable of many more diverse emotions than mere happiness. We choose who we are through the relationships we have.
I read a book the other day in which the author (James Paul Gee) identified three different ways in which identities are forged;
1. virtual identity
2. real-world identity
3. projective identity

The former two, when practiced together, beget the latter.
The projective identity is the space in which the learner can transcend the limitations both of the virtual identity and the learner’s own real-world identity. Life is about creating, not discovering and identity formation is a perpetual process. New relationships with people, things, and ideas offer new ways in which we can create ourselves. Different relationships allow us to take on different characters and see which one fits, to play different roles and then live vicariously through these different roles as we bring the virtual characters that we, as real-world characters have adopted as we experience projected character development in our little semiotic domains to life.
To live vicariously through oneself. Meta-living? I think we all do this to a certain degree. I certainly have done a lot of it. I don't think it's a bad thing. I think it can lead to important self-exploration that ultimately sheds light on our best (I hesitate to say true?) selves, the selves we most enjoy being. What we think we "should" be is oftentimes what we don't "want" to be. Can want and obligation coexist? They often seem like polar opposites. I guess what they have in common is opportunity. We have the opportunity to want or to not want just as we have the opportunity to be obliged or to not be obliged. Does opportunity exist infinitely? Sometimes it seems like it does. Other times it seems as if we are stuck between a rock and a hard place and our only option is to cut off a limb to escape ;)

I think that developing an eclectic mix of relationships is important, though not essential. If we don't experience as much as we can then how will we ever know which relationships we are best suited for? On the other hand, if we aspire to experience everything in an effort to determine what we are best suited for then we will miss out on the chance of experiencing things like commitment, deep-seeded love that evolves from longevity, attachment (which can be both a good and bad thing), and other, more narrowly defined opportunities like children (which are best begotten after marriage which is best forged after engagement which most successfully arises out of a relationship). Embracing one of these routes means that we inevitably have to give up the other. Some people spend a lifetime relocating to different places or entering different fields of study or forging different relationships. Others spend them staying committed to the towns, people, and jobs that they have known all their lives. The former induces diversity, worldliness, and a wisdom that can only be begotten by accepting the fact that commitment, longevity, familiarity, and deep-seeded attachment just aren't your thing. The latter generates all of these things and more. The whole concept of "home is where the heart is" can thus be interpreted in two ways. Often, this home is the familiar. For me, home is in Danbury, a place that houses my family, my church, and all the memories that I have created since childhood. This "home" only exists in my mind. I have attached meaning to Danbury, CT, to the gyms I attended, to 3 Brothers diner, the mall, Il Bacio, Candlewood lake, Main Street, the Green, and other places. What if all of these places were suddenly destroyed my a fluke tornado (sounds plausible right?) Would Danbury still be home to me even though none of the same places existed? I think the answer is yes because "home" is an abstract place that only exists in the hearts and minds of those who attach meaning to it. Home can be a person. Home can be a place. Home can be an idea. Home can be anything you want it to be, but ultimately, home is your own inner sanctum sanctorium. My best friend has moved all over the country. Her "home" may only be an abstract inner sanctuary because she has no physically familiar place that she can go back to when she feels lost in the world. Who knows? Who am I to define another [wo]mans home?












You are my home.
Where I retreat when I feel alone.
In whose absence, though never real, I nonetheless bemoan.
My place of solitude.
You exist eternally, as long as I exist.
Where I can love freely and in whom I may infintely repose.
You are my home.