This morning I was chatting online with a cyber friend - he asked me to tell him something about myself that he doesn't already know. I thought - hey that shouldn't be too hard, since he never actually met me, or was part of my real life...
But then I find myself staring blankly at the keyboard, and realizing I have no idea what to say.
Life makes me concentrate on the mundane - my job, my marriage with its ups and downs, my little errands and pastimes. I forget to look at myself – in the mirror or inside my memories.
Oddly enough, I can think of myself as a coherent entity in the past – my high school years, my university ‘self’ – but those images are well defined because the context helped them build up. Making a name/ a life for myself in a post-Cold War environment has required a truly outrageous energy. Bohemian times were locked up for keeps and unlikely to come back.
I miss the times when my identity involved long –long skirts, guitar playing, outdoor painting or poetry reading. One by one, they got replaced by smart suits, fancy hi-fi audio equipment, reading and writing checks and attending boring functions.
So who am I? Maybe even writing this on my laptop in a fancy word processor is peeling yet another layer off my once round and colorful self; I should have written it on paper, deprived of the backspace key and the perfect alignment of text.
Hey, of course I am all of the above, but I wish for a moment I could step off the day-by-day platform, take off my high heels and eat food with my fingers, maybe sneak in the cinema theater without paying the ticket. I still AM able to fill the blank spaces with colorful patches from the past. Hope they can make for a good mirror reflection