Hiya!

Well, first bloggage type post, what to write?

Okay, so many of you don’t know me yet, hell, I don’t even know myself too well! So I will put up some sort of rambling drivel that I have been working on..

<====}==O   Musings O=={====>

Memory, or lack of it seems to be a fundamental constant in my life. It is not that I am forgetful insomuch as I end up getting so engrossed in something that it does not occur to me that I had something else arranged. It has even taken many attempts to start this journal of mine in an attempt to sort out my mind and feelings, as I get sidetracked with something and am unable to let it go until I have worked through it.

Who am I? This is the single most important unanswered question in my life at the moment. It is a question of identity and of belonging. How do I answer this question? It is a puzzler alright, consistent with the accompanying question “what do I want?”.

Is it a matter of appearance, of clothing, hairstyle and such? What is appearance – for me it is the outward image that you project that allows others to identify you and the groups you belong to. By groups it can mean workplace, trade, music, subculture, lifestyle, gender, class etcetera.

Is it a matter of skills? Even a matter of what you do? Is it more a matter of what you can do, or what you how to be able to do in the future. This could mean trade skills, professional skills, creative skills, domestic skills even leisure skills.

Is it a matter of experience? It has been said by many that we are the sum of our experiences from birth up to the present. That events that have unfolded in our lives before us have formed and shaped our place in the world, our perceptions, outlooks and personae. Are we really the product of a few vivid and deep seated experiences.

Is it a matter of association? We start off and continue through life associated with the idea of belonging to a group, whether this be family, friends, social, workplace, religious or other. It is normal to belong to more than one group and for groups to change throughout our lives so does this form who we are?

Is it our aspirations, desire or faith? What is it that you like, what is it that you dislike? What do you believe in, what do you trust and what do you not trust? What levels of these do you have, is it blind trust, such as a newborn has in its mother or is it a guarded mistrust of everyone and everything brought about through bitter experience? Is there something for you in the future, perhaps life eternal, a loving family or just the satisfaction of a job well done? Do you desire love, friendship, praise, salvation or maybe a combination of these?

Is it hereditary? are we the product of our genetic ancestry? Are we our gender, height, weight, colouring, shape? Can we identify ourselves by inherited family traits or disorders or even propensity for disorder? Are we that strong jawline, or that increased risk of diabetes? Are we our ethnicity – does our sense of self come from our anglo-saxon heritage, or are we quarter Chinese, or Indian, African, Teutonic, Aboriginal?

So much for the rhetorical questions above. I have asked myself these countless times and I still do not have an answer to the questions “who am I?” and “what do I want?”.

Ok, so I know this is not the way to start this piece, but I am going though an element of soul searching at present, of mourning experiences that I will never have, of a life in flux, of regrets and of hope.

I am standing at a crossroads in my journey through life at the moment and I am unable to discern where it will take me. Do I march on, straight down the path on which I am already on or do I turn and make something different of my life? Do I fly high on the wings of dreams only to plummet back to reality like a shooting star that flies so high yet falls so far. Do I march ever onwards a creature of routine and of habit, content with the endless procession of days and the passing of seasons, safe in a cocoon of “normality”. Do I drift from one thing to the next, like the honey bee collecting fragments of being, existing for the moment and the next experience, never to complete. Do I stand still, awash with the hope that the grass will be greener tomorrow, kissed by the shafts of moonlight falling gently upon the ground. Do I give up, hoping for a better existence next time round, treating this life as a practice run for some hoped for future existence where life will be a shining nirvana of love and joy and peace. Do I strive for vengeance, for all those slights, both real or imaginary, am I a peacemaker or a troublemaker. Do I live my life like an arrow in flight, or the graceful flight of the albatross, or even the sedentary life of the domestic cat. At this moment in time I do not know.

So who am I? I have many labels that can be called my own, many hats that I can wear to categorize and subdivide my existence. Employee, engineer, spouse, geek, rocker, metalhead, biker, weirdo, diabetic, student, friend, lover, neighbour and on and on.

I have been given many attributes over my life – lanky, tall, big, clever, thick, workshy, enthusiastic, boring, moody, safe, giving, fat, beanpole, shy, reticent, impulsive, handsome, ugly, rough, uncouth, unseemly, loud, quiet, weak, unusual, different. As you can see, many contradict themselves, does this mean I have many sides, or multiple types of being or even swings of being brought about by the tides of life washing me about like flotsam in its wake.

What about my skills? I can make things, that is my job. I can get by in Japanese, even a little bit of German. I can write reports and stories and prose and verse. I can drive a car, a motorbike and even a cherry picker and fork truck. I can draw celtic knotwork, write my name in ancient Norse runes and Oriental Script. I can cook, do laundry, wash dishes, but I seem to be unable to keep my car clean! I can spell and cast spells, I can write with a computer but not with a pen. I can hope, but I never dream.

What about the past, those little events and experiences that form my history? I was educated by a catholic religious order in a single sex environment. I was rubbish at sports and academically mediocre until I was older. I used to drink (heavily) and a night out was considered incomplete unless I had to struggle to stand upright. I knew many people but had few real friends. I spent more time in hospital than many of my generation. I was surrounded by people but was often lonely. I changed direction a few times when I was in education and left some courses prior to completion. I am an eldest child and the oldest of my gender in my family. I have attended the funerals of uncles, aunts, parent and grandparents. I have been the rebel without a clue and the “safe person” that people can leave their belongings with while they dance the night away. I have been thrown out of bars and clubs and then returned to them to undertake work there. I have bought and read well over 1000 books. I have lived alone and with others. I have loved, made love and married. I have lived in the countryside and in the town and city. I have bought records, long after they were fashionable, seen bands and danced until dawn. I have been assaulted, both verbally and physically, I have been in accidents. I have kissed men and women, I have been naked with men and women. I have memorized many passages of text but cannot remember my next dentists appointment! I have repaired computers, household appliances, wiring, plumbing and even walls. I have wrote songs that will never be sung and stories that will never be read. I have spent days shopping without spending any money.

So once again, who am I? Still I do not know? It is written that the single most important matter is to “know oneself”, somehow this intimate knowledge of self will yield up the universe on a sliver platter. It is a matter of acceptance, but not by others but by me.

What do I want? I don’t know this either! To know what you want is to know who you are, both questions linked with one defining the other, an endless progression of the chicken and egg scenario. All I know is that I have no desire to return to the me of the past or of the now. The now in itself has passed as time marches ever onward, the bloom of youth slowly fading from the reality of my existence as it becomes the history of self filed away in the closet of my mind, the myth of former exploits fading from the general conversation of people whom I have known.

I am going to finish this here, more rambling of the same ilk will not bring forth answers any more than this. By analyzing the problem logical fashion only imposes more questions, which sometimes I feel ill equipped to answer.

For now, I am me, don’t know who that is yet, but it is a start. Mind how you go.

<====}==O  End O=={====>

So, that was me a few months ago. Some things have changed, most notably my recent declosetage, but most of the above holds true (except the ‘ending it all’ bit).

Oh, I write stories sometimes. If you fancy, try http://bigclosetr.us/topself/j-morose

Take care and be happy – Jay