Bob Dylan, the first one-sided love affair I knew, once said, “All I can do is be me, whoever that is.”
Is it obvious why I loved him first? I would have never captured the lifelong quest for identity so eloquently. But that’s why he’s Dylan – he wouldn’t be quoted saying, “I don’t know who the hell I am.”
I’ve spent a large percentage of my life defining myself. Or, discovering myself? Maybe that’s the real question. Do you create yourself, or realize yourself? And how does one know…
If you were to ask me who I am on the street, I’d say:
I’m a traveling poet.
A palm reader and a midwife and a life coach.
I write the jingles for pet food commercials and the advice column in the local paper.
I’m a pro poker player. A cobbler. A sheep farmer. The tallest horse jockey you’ll ever meet. An activist.
I charm snakes.
Sometimes I make up stories – but not to be a liar, just because it’s interesting and usually funny.
I believe in love. sometimes. most times. not really all the time.
I don’t believe in rules. usually. most times. pretty much ever.
You must understand, I’m all or nothing. You’ll never get part of me. You’ll get all of me – or you just won’t get me at all.
It’s not that I’m a walking contradiction as much as I only ever agree partially with nearly, but not completely, everything.
I’m eccentric (not crazy).
I can cry like the only girl who has ever known heartbreak, I can laugh until I’m in such physical pain that tears stream down my cheeks. I can change my mind before I’ve made it up. I can dream bigger than anyone I know – and show no fear when it comes to chasing those dreams down.
Nice to meet you. Charmed, I’m sure.