Am I Who I am?

I keep hearing all of these politicians say, “that’s not who we are” in relation to something odious said or done by the most odious of humans who sadly tragically odiously occupies the White House; or another horrific odious incident of white nationalism that he inspires. Or sometimes the politicians will say, “this is not who we are.” This or that is not who we are.

I wish I could say that all of the time. It would have come in handy as a reply to the job rejection email I received the other day which probably should not come as a surprise since I was not at my best during the interview. I’m not ever at my best at any interview. Especially a search committee on the phone interview.

I wish I could have written a reply to the search committee, something along the lines of “that person you interviewed… this is not who I am.” Perhaps this might lead them to think they have failed to reject me because the person they rejected is not who I am. And then they might decide to consider the person who is who I am.

And all of the rejections from dating which I never do because I am too anxious and self-conscious and make a terrible first impression. But if at the end of a bad date, instead of looking for clues as to whether there will be a 2nd date, I could simply let them know that the person they went on a date with was not who I am.

And the homeless people I walk past and do not acknowledge because I never carry around money and I’m in a rush and if I had more time I would direct them to a soup kitchen but instead I walk past them and try to convince myself that this is not who I am.

And the people at work who think I am eccentric because I have no idea how to start a conversation with them and they never start one with me, but if they did, they would see I am an actual dimensional person instead of this person who is not who I am.

So the real question is who is who I am?

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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