Wednesday, November 19, 2008

me

The clock tells me it's 3:33 AM. God knows when I'll finish writing this post because honestly, I don't really know what I want to write about. I just feel like there's something inside me that's itching to be heard. It's a feeling that's not different from getting a pimple inside your nose. You don't really know what to do with it but since you can feel it (it hurts!!!), something has to be done.

I was talking to someone very dear to me last night when I got a dose of some strange realizations. She told me that work brought out my "bad side" and that at times, she no longer knew who I was. Who was I, I asked myself. It's strange to have have to ask that question at age twenty-two.

I couldn't really understand her but I know for a fact that she knows me more than anybody else. I have a suspicion she knows me more than I know myself and so being the spineless dick that I am, I started to consider if her statement had some truth to it. Given that man has one brain, one heart, and one voice, it's clear that man should also have one identity. One face to show the whole world. But if what she said was true, perhaps I was born with two of each.

At home, I'm a regular person. I surf the web in a sando and shorts. I watch hideously pirated DVDs and shows like The Buzz with my mom and sisters. I sulk at the corner and can go without talking for hours. I go to church on Sundays, sleep when I can and basically just do regular stuff.

At work, I guess I could say I'm a bit less sane. I don't really care about what people say about me as long as I have fun. Sing me a song and I'll dance for you. Hum out a tune and I'll belt out the chorus. Shove a module in my face and I'll be in your class teaching it in two seconds. It's all in a days work. Sometimes, I sit at home and wonder why I'm so tired. Perhaps it's from being a little too caffeinated or for being a little too crazy.

So who am I really? Which part of me is more true? More importantly, could the two sides ever reconcile?

Imagine yourself on your fiftieth birthday and everyone's there- all your friends from grade school to college plus all the friends you've accumulated from all the jobs you've had. I shudder at this thought. It's not that I'm afraid they'll see me when I'm wrinkly and old. It's the thought that the me that one group envisions could be different from the me that another group sees. No, this can never happen and as long as I have a voice, it shall never be.

So about the two sides reconciling, I started to think more about what my friend said. Perhaps she's just not used to the me at work. Maybe it's because she and I became friends before that part of me came to be. Or was it there all along, dormant like a volcano?

After reading what I've written so far, I realized I shouldn't really be worried about this too much. I have said the word me twenty-seven times and you'd think I would've gotten the point by now. This is me I'm talking about and no one should have to dictate who that person should be. Maybe work-me and home-me may seem antithetic to some people but to me, they are one and the same. No one should have to tell you who you are. Your identity is something that you should know. And if you don't, perhaps it's time to take a good look at the mirror and see for yourself.

As I washed the day's dirt and oil from my face and got ready for bed, I saw work-me dissolve into the water and down the drain. As the soap suds cleared away to show home-me, I realized that between the two there stands no difference and magically, I had finally reconciled the two.

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