wait a minute, who am i?

Submitted by la miller on 3 September, 2007 - 17:39

Happy Labor Day! Things are swinging here at the Red Square Cafe. Laptop loafers, bagel-eating lunchers and neighborhood hipsters chill to a little downtempo. The baristas are sharing stories about eccentrically dressed clientele. (Where is that line? Super-short skin-colored shorts, tiny tank top, wing-tips and black socks -- on a man, who apparently usually shows up in roller skates -- apparently a too-much-information outfit.) And the iced Americanos flow! It's a blue sky, wispy cloud sunny day. I spy an old-fashioned donut with my name written all over it. (I don't know where they find the glaze-proof ink or how they get my name so neatly on there.) I'm having a hard time suppressing my smile. Yeah, it's a good day.

Since when have I been so delighted by this life of mine? The more I've gotten into my [:limbo|limbo], the more I've found myself enjoying just about everything. The other day I was out for dinner alone and my order got lost, which I didn't notice for a really long time. I was writing birthday cards to family members and then in my journal. I was people watching and eaves-dropping, even smiling at the screaming babies. Finally, it was the shiver-inducing air-conditioning that brought me back to the common timeframe. ... And it was great, because I got my dinner and a beer FREE. They felt bad. I'll definitely be eating there again.

Further life transitions: I'll be moving into an apartment this week. (I'm so eternally grateful to my friend who has housed me for the last two weeks. Thank you, thank you and thank you.) I'll be reunited with my stuff. Since mid-May, I've spent over ten weeks without it. The most interesting thing about that for me is that I haven't had the same identity re-enforcement, a role that personal possessions can play as well as friends and family. This is good.

In our consumer goods saturated culture, clothing might as well grow on trees. I've acquired for little or no money (blessings on all the free boxes and clothing swaps and those folks who contribute to them) enough new clothes to see me through fall. I have a suitcase of clothes that I traveled here with. But since there is such an abundance of cheap and free used clothing, I've got new clothes, different from the old clothes. Point is, clothes are one way in which we create our identity: I am who I am by what I put on. And lucky me, I've been getting to put on different clothes.

I've also been separated from my music, especially my records. I'm going to have to get new needles soon for all the wear the old ones will get once the turntables get set up. But I've listened to the music here in the cafe, which has been great and different. (Got a little drum-n-bass on now.)

Another example: my current journal only goes back to June 26 when I was on the coast in Northern California. I've got no idea where the previous journal ended up. (Most of the old journals are in the old journal box, but that one could be anywhere.) Since I record most of my personal thoughts, feelings and dreams there, it's a good reference to answer the "what was I thinking" question. But not having access to that record, I'm freed from all that old stuff too. (Hearing hip-hop now.)

So here's to fluidity in identity. Let go and let go and let go. Smile at change. It may, at times, be difficult. But I recommend it. I endorse it. I encourage it. Here's to life -- the fluidity and flow / the lucidity to know / the moral path on which to show / up on with levity and grow.