Sandler responds by saying he’s an executive assistant for a
pet products company, but Nicholson interrupts him and says something like, “I
didn’t ask you to tell me what you do, I asked you tell me who you are.”
Sandler then answers with, “Oh well, I’m a pretty good guy, I play tennis on
occasion…” Nicholson stops him again and says he didn’t ask for his hobbies. “Just
simple. Tell us who you are.”
At this point Sandler is growing visibly frustrated and asks
for an example of a good answer from one of the other people in the group, to
which Nicholson replies, “You want Lou to tell you who you are?” which draws
laughter from everyone. Sandler feels humiliated and his exasperation intensifies
as he tries one more time. “I’m a nice, easygoing man. I might be a little bit
indecisive at times…”
“Dave, you’re describing your personality,” Nicholson says
with a smirk. “I want to know who you are.”
Sandler explodes. “I don’t know what the hell you want me to
say!”
I’m not exactly sure why I’ve never let go of this specific
memory of a scene from a movie released over 20 years ago, especially since I can’t
remember much about the rest of it. Sometimes I give a little chuckle at the
absurdity of it all (it is an Adam Sandler movie, after all), but there are
times when I think about how I would respond to Nicholson’s question if
I were Dave and I kept giving out seemingly wrong answers. Who am I really?
My default answer would probably be some version of what I do
for a living, but if that’s not enough, I’d offer up something about my love of
traveling, reading, music, etc. And if the therapist still isn’t satisfied, I’d
move on to self-perceived qualities and traits, and personality quirks like how
I like to spend quiet days bingeing TV shows or going on long drives with my
dog.
In short, I’d probably say the exact same things as Dave. But
do any of those answers truly capture the essence of who we are? Was the
therapist right in not being satisfied and pushing for a deeper, more genuine
response? How exactly do we define the self?
This year, I’ve had a lot of time to think about who I am in
the context of what I do and what I value. After a high school classmate of
mine died unexpectedly last year, I started reflecting on things like what I’m
supposed to be doing with my life and what my place is in this world.
Maybe the fact that I’m right in the middle of my 40s also contributed
to this episode of dabbling in existentialism. This probably explains why I get
hit by videos of creators who do bite-sized philosophical concepts in my social
media algorithm. There was one who tackled the ship of Theseus thought experiment.
Basically, it poses the question of whether a ship that has had its original parts
replaced over the years is still the same ship. If not, when did it stop being Theseus’
ship?
Switch the ship to the self and the analogy works, too. If
you’re constantly changing, are you still the same person you were as an
infant, as a toddler, as a teenager, as a grown adult? If it’s true that our
cells are constantly being replaced, how many versions of ourselves do we go
through in our lifetime? And an even intriguing question is: are we our bodies,
our memories, our consciousness, or a mixture of all three? Or are we something
else entirely?
It gets a bit more complicated when you take into account
how we probably present different versions of ourselves to all of the people we
interact with in our daily lives. Whether we care to admit it or not, what we
say and how we act sometimes largely depends on who we’re looking at and talking to. We’re
polite to the restaurant server, the gas station attendant, and the supermarket
check-out lady when we’re with company, but perhaps less inclined to be well-mannered
when there’s nobody to impress. Which one is the real us, and who’s to say it
can’t be both?
To borrow a word that’s been used to death this year in a
million different think pieces, I feel like we are all performative, in a way.
Earlier this year I spent about a week in Miami, Florida by
myself. It was the farthest I’ve ever been from home and probably one of the
longest periods I’ve ever spent away from anybody familiar. I enjoy these occasional trips
because, under these circumstances, I feel like I could figure out a bit more
about myself without judgment or ridicule from people who might have ideas about me. One sobering realization from that trip is that I may not be all
that interesting (at least, not as much as I think I am). I spent most of the time in my room either reading, watching
movies and TV shows on my laptop, or sleeping off the jetlag. When I did go
out, I just took a self-guided walking tour of some of the city’s most famous
art deco buildings and took a quick tour of the bay onboard one of those mobile
tiki bars. I didn’t go to any bars or clubs and barely even spoke to people, partly because I never know
what to say, and partly so I won’t feel the need to “put on an act.” (Ordinarily I’m interested in people, but getting-to-know-you
exhaustion is real).
Which brings me to my point. Maybe
the answer to the question of who we are isn’t in what we do as a profession, in
what we know and what we claim to be able to do, and nor is it in how other people
see us or even in how we see ourselves. Perhaps the biggest signifier of
identity and the self is in the choices we constantly make, guided by nothing
more than our own internal compass. Examining what we value and give importance
to might be the best course of action in the never-ending quest to discover our
true self.
That reminds me of a quote from Albus Dumbledore from the
Harry Potter book series, which probably makes way more sense than this
thousand-word essay: "It is our choices that show what we truly are,
far more than our abilities."
As always, here are a few of my favorite photos from the
year that was.
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| Sailing in Subic |
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| I met some fascinating people this year. Loida Nicolas Lewis was one of them |
