Jäsendenelirate

I haven't uploaded anything for a while - no time, see, to goof off onliner - but once I do, I fully intend to add a slew of Gothic novels, the Sophocles stuff, a lot of Neil Gaiman (who is a genius. If you don't believe me, read his stuff. If you already have, you know what I'm talking about), My Name is Asher Lev, Hamlet, and Sylvie and Bruno, if it's not already up there.

Who are we all, really? Can any of us validly answer that question? I think we are all defined by what we do and who we associate with, but that's really only a frame around the escense of who we are. It really is of little consequence. I guess you could say I'm framed by philosophy, reading, writing (both stories and music), watching sunsets, taking pictures (like the one above), my inner creatures (51% magpie, 29% robin, and 20% meadowlark), my personality color (that rich, deep grass green), and the six people I love and fully intend to do so until the end of time: my mother, Jes, Jules, Justina, Willow, and Caleb. Not necessarily in that order. But beyond my frame, I don't know who I am. What my true name is. What I'm going to major in. That kind of thing. A lot of my personal 'am'ness is lost on me.

In the end, though, does it really matter if I know who I am? I'm happy, in a melancholy, quiet way. I'm more or less satisfied. It used to matter so much who I was - I spent a year in introspection and learned far more than necessary about my nature and myself - but I never found the answer. I still haven't found it, but it doesn't seem to matter that much anymore. I am me. What else is there to be?