Me: A Satirical Search For Identity

 I woke up one morning and noticed I didn't feel like myself.  I didn't feel grounded or vital or real.  It was like I was floating, with my physical body on the ground but my mind a hundred feet away.  Was I even myself anymore?  I wasn't sure.  But one thing I knew: I couldn't go on like this, even for a day.  I had to have an identity, a way to label myself and present myself to the world.  Because isn't that what living is all about?  How others perceive you and refer to you?  There's a points system all based on identity, and if I couldn't define mine, I would be, well, pointless.

So I got up, got dressed (in as neutral of clothing as possible) and went out to search...for me.  I decided to stop by the coffee shop first, give myself a jolt of energy to sustain me on my quest.  Unfortunately, I had forgotten that the barista would need a name for the order.  Shoot, what was I going to call my little lost self?  Looking quickly around the shop, I spied the word "blended" on the menu and blurted it out as my name.  The barista gave me only a cursory glance, then unquestioningly wrote the word on the cup.  When my "name" was called, it occurred to me that maybe "Blended" was an identity I could run with because, wasn't I sort of a blended person?  I mean, one moment I'm happy-go-lucky and the next I am agitated.  Often several emotions manifest simultaneously, rendering "Blended" apropos.  So I left the shop somewhat mollified.  However, my satisfaction did not last long.  As I walked along the street I saw people from all walks of life, wearing mismatched and misgendered clothing, donning lipstick and a beard, and some of obvious bi- or tri- racial backgrounds.  These were the truly blended ones, able to claim the title unquestionably, if they so wished.  Not me.  With a sigh, I proceeded down the sidewalk once again in search of my identity.

The universe must have been aware of my pursuit because it presented me with a flashing neon sign: "Psychic."  On the window were the words "Discover your true meaning in life: tarot cards, crystal ball, medium.  $10 special."  Yes and yes.  Time to let a professional unearth my ego.  Little bells jangled as I pushed open the door.  Madame Tabitha came at once, welcomed me warmly, and invited me back to a dark room.  In the span of thirty minutes, she had read my aura, interpreted my cards, and gazed upon my future.  After handing over $35 (the $10 special was only for a five-minute palm reading), I was assured by way of clairvoyance that though I was confused right now (how did she know?!) I would soon gain clarity through meditation and contemplation.  "You are a dreamer," saith Madame Tabitha, and just like that she had pinned down my true self: "Dreamer" indeed I was and would be.  I exited, prepared to spend my day contemplating and meditating to no end.  Introspection, here I come!  I settled myself on the nearest park bench and commenced my soul-searching.  Unfortunately, I quickly discovered that a city park bench is not conducive to such endeavors, what with dogs barking and horns honking and people crowding around.  After fifteen minutes my concentration was spent and my head hurt.  Perhaps I would pursue "Dreamer" another day.

It was barely noon and had already seemed a long day.  I needed a break from this tiresome pursuit, a place where I would feel liberated from introspection for just a little while.  Without thinking (much), I turned my steps to the south, toward the zoo.  I love animals and find solace in watching their subconscious antics.  Animals know who they are without question - what a placid life!  Today was a beautiful day for the zoo, as there was a cool breeze to beckon the animals to activity instead of lethargy.  Happily, I found the orangutans climbing in their trees and the tigers splashing in their pool as opposed to lounging languidly in the shade.  At that moment, watching Bandit and Zara (the two Bengals) frolicking in the water, I felt inspired and invigorated.  Oh yes, I thought, here is what I am meant to be.  I asked the tigers if they would mind too much if I claimed their identity as my own and counted myself as one of their species.  Their answer was a guttural growl, non-threatening as far as I could tell, and I took it as affirmation.  A smile broke out on my face as I considered my new identity as a tiger, thinking that playing in a pool, sleeping, and eating all day sounded lovely.  On a more scientific level, I admitted that humans, after all, are only evolved clumps of cells existing merely to survive, scarcely different from the creatures at the zoo.  Only by the tiniest margin had we the power to incarcerate these beasts while we ourselves walked free.  (Perhaps I would organize a freedom march for the zoo animals now that I'd identified my true essence.) And with that, I exited the zoo feeling validated, if not a little guilty for leaving my family members detained for the moment.

Speaking of freedom marches, the moment I turned west out of the zoo I was met by a cluster of people wielding signs and chanting loudly.  What is the cause of the day? I wondered.  Upon reading a few of the signs, I determined that this was an EASO rally: Earthlings Against Solar Oppression.  The people wore huge hats and sunglasses, their signs bouncing up and down declaring Freedom From Astronomical Tyranny and Sun, Don't Shine On Me!  I had heard of the EASOs before: these were people who considered the closest star to earth as a patriarchal tyrant imposing his relentless rays without human consent.  For 4.5 billion years, this ball of plasma in the sky had never once considered the feelings of those it constantly affected, maintaining its heat and light day after day after day.  What about those poor folks with ultra-pale skin?  And those whose bad health make walking in the Sun doubly taxing?  No, the Sun had no concern for these or for others who simply prefer darkness and cold; no care for those who work nights and must sleep during the day; no anxiety at its ill effects such as skin cancer, wilting plants, and vampire exposure.  Knowing all this, I was easily swept up with the crowd and quickly joined in their chanting: We Say When, We Say How, Sunlight Stop Oppressing Now!  No more headache-inducing meditation.  I was now a part of a group doing important work, and it felt good.  I was an EASO.  I remained with the EASOs for much of the day, until said Sun mockingly wore us down to only a couple of devotees among a barrage of discarded signs and trash.  With the fading of the crowd came the fading of my conviction, and as I gazed into the sky, I felt my hostility toward our solar system's only star fading as well.  Verdict: I am not a true EASO.

I hung my head as I plodded down the now-deserted road toward home.  The Sun would be setting soon, giving us humans a respite from its heat and light, which actually made me feel even lonelier.  All day long I had searched for my truth, my meaning and purpose, the "stuff" that makes me, me.  And despite latching on to several unique personas throughout the day, in the end I was back where I started: floating along, nameless, indistinctive and uncatagorized.  A nobody in a world of somebodies.  Where was my group, my tribe to which I belonged, my people who would simultaneously tell me who I was and validate my convictions (whatever those happened to be)?  Together, we would all be unique and special.  "I am my own person," we would say, "and I will not conform!" (though of course the unspoken rule was to do just that in order to garner validation).  Darn it all.  The whole thing seemed a dogma of circular reasoning and illogic, demanding legitimacy through gaslighting and the claim of victimhood.  But at least these people knew who they were!  I had found not one label to adequately define me, while so many others lived as participants in multiple categories, earning them high marks in the point system, marks which would secure them a pass for destructive behavior, for preying on children, and for spreading propaganda.  Unless I could brand myself as one of the marginalized factions of society, I would never make it.

I slept fitfully that night, anxious over how I would feel in the morning and who I would be (or not be).  If only there was a greater a power who would sweep down from on high and lay claim to my soul, a transcendent being who would wrap me up in love and whisper to me, "Fear not, for I have redeemed you: I have summoned you by name; you are mine."  Then I would know my true identity; then peace would be mine.