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How do you figure out who you are?

I know some of you will read this and wonder how anyone could ask this question as the answer is so patently obvious for you. But it’s not for everybody. It certainly isn’t for me. And before I begin this, you should know that I do not believe that complexity is better than simplicity; it’s not inherently more noble to struggle through layers of crap than to know exactly what’s what. Gregory House, for instance, is a complex genius. He’s also a completely friendless asshole. Some of my most geniunely straightforward friends are, on the other hand, true joys to hang around by virtue – I think – of that quality.

But seriously. I got four hours of sleep the other night (I was up late watching Scrubs, and eventually I just couldn’t doze off), and I found myself that morning a completely different person than I was the day before. This change didn’t present normally. There was no irritablity as such, no irrationality. Instead I became a super-confident, verbose, funny (yes, funny), annoying, clever speech-making moron.

It’s a bit of a shock now. Now that the four hours of sleep are 24 hours behind me, that is. I’ve never held to change as a rapid mechanism – for instance, when couples break up and want to stay that way, distance is a very, very good thing – but I hadn’t seen that side of myself for, wow, it seems like half a year or so.

Then it came to me how many different people I have locked up in here. Or how many facets. I don’t know. It confuses the heck out of me most days, because I can be the jock, the sensitive artist, the confidant smooth-talker, the complete geek, the passionate debater, the smartass kid, the comedian, the penatrating advisor, the sympathetic ear, the on and on and on and on, but at the end of the day none of those things define me as a person. Each and every one of those comes out on its own depending on when you catch me. For instance, I tend to become very introspective late at night, as anyone who has hung out with me at a coffee shop will know.

I always get a kick out of people who tell me what is and is not me. Once, I knew a girl who would tell me to knock off using big words to make myself sound more intellectual. Something that always frustrated me because I use big words, I just do. Not only that: how does someone who’s known me a few years on and off expect to know me better than I know myself? I’m as confused as the dickens here, and I’ve been living with me for upwards of 24 years!

So yeah – those of you who do want to know me, few that you are, this is all I can assure you of. At some point you will come to see bits of me that will confuse, terrify, and devastate you. And if you’re lucky that’ll be outweighed by the times you see in me something truly worth keeping despite the rest.