On being oneself

I find myself tonight having to stay up baking bread (darn my ambition, and my memory). But it's good. Ten minutes into baking, and that wonderful smell of dying yeast is filling my kitchen. (Sorry, yeast.) In honor of my time given to blogging instead of sleeping, I thought briefly about making lotus green tea, to increase my zen (or something like that). Instead, I went for the chocolate hazelnut. So, less zen inspiration, more, well, chocolate...

At any rate (or tea), I've been thinking a great deal lately about being one's own self. Mostly, about being my own self. I've spent much of my life figuring out who others want me to be, only to realize that, years later, I don't know who I am or who I want to be. This is evidenced by me having no idea what to do with my life, but also simply by me not knowing what it means to "be yourself," as the wise Genie once told Aladdin. These thoughts were, of course, compounded by my depression. Losing one's sense of self and very orientation are pretty good propellants for the process of having to find oneself.

Whatever the cause may be, this is where I am, and the place from where I must begin again.

Most recently, my sense of self was shaken by my Israeli stalker, Roy (real name used to expose the guilty). I can't tell you how many times that man told me he wanted to change me, to make me read less books, to think less, to "have more fun," whatever that means. Now, I'll grant that sometimes I'm too much of a hermit. But, largely, I'm happy with where I'm at intellectually and socially at the moment. I'm having a ton of fun blogging and journaling--if you think I'm blogging a lot, you should see my journal. I've written in it 12 days out of 27 so far this year. That's some kind of a record for me. I'm usually a twice-a-month journaler, if that. But, my mind's been working quite a bit lately, maybe to make up for lost months, and it's fun. I love to think. I know I have to get out of my own head, and I do. Being a friend, a sister, and a daughter are no mere intellectual exercises--and the friend role has been especially draining and especially rewarding of late for a number of reasons.

Most of all, though, I think thinking is fun. It's darn good work to be doing. I think Roy's only real problem with it is that I happen to do it better than he does. Er, scratch that. Well, maybe not. See, he's not as deep of a thinker as I am, but I can't place a value judgment on that; it just is. My particular specialty, or rather one of them, is to think deeply about life, place, humanity, love, theology, and just about anything else I care to ruminate upon. His specialty is different, just as yours is, and hers is, and that guy's is...

This is something that brings me joy. We all have different gifts, abilities, callings... call them what you will, but the point is that we'd be in a really sorry state if we all acted like Roy. Or if we all acted like me (I just shuddered there). My own brand of individuality (which cannot work outside of community) involves loving people, being gracious, thinking deeply about life, questioning the status quo, and quietly celebrating the many beauties of the world.

(Also, I like to cook on occasion, and take long walks in the snow. I read about feminism, blog, clean bathrooms, and bake bread. Sometimes all in the same day. And when I get tired, I get silly....)