Defined …

August 25, 2009

I’m not a person who defines himself by his job.  I’m more of a person who defines himself by his relationships with other people, and by his own secret thoughts, hopes, and dreams.  What I am, to me, is very internal.  What I am is not on the outside, at least fully, and is impossible to grasp, ethereal, even to me.

I am, of course, a son, the oldest brother, a father.  My grandparents are no longer alive, and yet I remain their grandson.   I am a nephew, and a cousin.  I am a friend, and a good one.  I am a good  listener, and a confidant who can help rationalize your dubious actions and assuage your guilt.

Conveniently,  I am a liar and teller of tales.

I am a reader.

I correct spelling mistakes but purposefully twist pronunciation and unleash malapropisms like Slip Mahoney of the Bowery Boys.

I am an IT guy.  I’m a PC, and I’m a Mac.

I am a waster a time.  I am dreamer who can be so self-absorbed that, when hours pass, I voice surprise and dismay that the time has gone, and have nothing to show for those hours.

I am a writer, and I am not.  I am the rememberer, and the remembered.

I am an ex-husband.  I am a lover.

I am other things.

But what am I as defined by someone else, and does it matter, really?


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