Orhan Pamuk, Nobel Prize Winner, told a story (in the Black Book) about a writer
whose wife left him for no reason at all. Restless and sleepless (and perhaps facing writer’s block) he imagined living out his former single self ( the status he now found himself in ). After a while, the mind played trick and he got used to being single. Until one day, his wife returned to him for no particular reason at all. He again found himself in a situation precaire. Would you once again imagine yourself being married so you can get used to it?
I am not sure what the moral of the story is, except that we are not content with who we are. I guess once we figured out our boundaries, our strengths and weaknesses (painful), we are on the way of becoming ourselves.
Not the kind of person our families wish us to be, nor who we thought we were.
Just is.
After millions of encounters, negotiating and coordinating, including navigating the Wild Wild West (wow! they did that) and World Wide Web (wow! they are doing that?) we are on the way to becoming.
With one new revelation, one turn of event, one special encounter, our lives take on a new shape and contour. Dramatic events tend to dominate and serve as bookends to our otherwise uneventful lives. But most lives are lived in “quiet desperation”. Having said that, what looks like boring to us might be very peculiar and interesting to others (if not for people in other place and time). From future vantage point, our action and inaction during this Housing Bubble make interesting historical studies (the same as we study the Dutch Tulip Bubble – now with hindsight, we can see it as bubble. But to them, at the time, not jumping in was akin to suicide. The same with the Chicago World Fair, and how for the first time, attendees saw electricity. They simply thought they were in Heaven).
I guess part of the fun in living is discovering. Not so much about places and people, but about how we give and take, turned on and off by a certain place or people. Then we learn about our chemistry as well as our social identity.
Orhan Pamuk moves back and forth on the East-West continuum, so he is more attuned on the subject of identity e.g. women who put on veil or unveiled in Snow, his other novel.
We too in some small way, assumed multiple identities every day. Even if we don’t want to, people still put us in a box, a number and a place in line. NEXT.
Now serving G24 at window number 9.
Please punch in your last 4 digits.
Don’t stand too close to the vehicle etc….
So many web sites, so many log on ID‘s.
Avatars and photos. Inner and outer circles.
No wonder at times, we feel neurotic.
Split identities. Being one thing online and another off-line.
And yet another when we are utterly alone, with a clock or a cross on the wall.
Who are you? Who am I? The color of my skin? The pronunciation of my name?
Or the size of my bank account? If it makes you happy, why the hell are you so sad (sings Cheryl Crow). I hope tonight I don’t have to wish I were my former self. It had its own set of problems back then. Just as now. So just live out the present self. I like it. I like my becoming self. Who else can put up with me besides myself? Wife comes and goes, for no reason at all. It’s me who has to negotiate with my restless self (and muscles) to get some sleep. In restless dream I walk alone,..