who do you think you are?

who do you think you are?

um, ah, well, you see...

that's an excellent question.

it's a hard thing to pinpoint. it's also something i've been thinking about quite a bit of late, in no small part due to the fact that i am applying my job skills and turning the microscope upon myself: i am marketing the phenomenon which is me, and my music. this is an involved process. i've had to write my life history, i've had to create an abstract take therein. i've had to try and distill myself down into a graphical representation, much to the chagrin of my partner-in-crime on this endeavor--whom i suspect i am driving crazy. and it's hard. it's very hard.

in an episode of "my so-called life," angela laments the fact that people are always telling you to just be yourself, "like yourself is this definite thing." and i understand this. i am nothing if not inconstant. myself is not something you'll readily find in hard copy. frankly, the only thing about me that has endured is my uniform color scheme and bouts of self-loathing. (and smoking, but that's a different story). other than that, i change day to day. one day, i'm a hopeless romantic, the next a cynical punk. one day a pencil-skirted, heel wearing lipstick junkie girly girl, the next a boot-stompin', trouser wearing, profanity spouting hard girl. i'm a million different people from one day to the next. i am evenly lost as i am found.

and i like it that way.

i like playing the chameleon.

though there are some who would argue that such an affliction is significant of poor self-image, or an identity crisis, i don't think so. i think that i'm a fully developed person.

i know who i am. more or less, anyway; my behavior this winter has thrown that in to a bit of question. it's just hard to explain.

i know this much is true: i am brave. i am smart (though i find myself becoming duller and duller with each passing day) i often speak before i think, though i find myself growing quieter as i get older. i am losing my faith in hope, though i don't think i'll be able to give it up entirely. i'm certainly not sally sue's inferior, however much she tries to make me feel that way (but that's another story) i am a work in progress and a project in constant flux.

that is my constant. that i will never be so.

so imagine the difficulty i'm having trying to shoehorn myself into a sellable package, even if it's one of my own devising.

who do i think i am?

i know who i am.

who do you want me to be?

who should i tell you i am?

i think those are much better questions.

not that i'll listen, of course.

ps--who on earth logged in at midnight last night and read 94 pages? this is the second day i've seen you. kindly 'fess up, because you're making me nervous.