What am I?

How often do you think you ask yourself the question in your lifetime? What am I, what are you, what are we?

Sometimes I feel like I'm destined for the life of a rebel, the fiercest of all activist and supporter of environmental cause - but I learned now how my soul can be easily disturbed by the crudeness of picket line and angry shouts of the protesters. I even feel for the person hated by most1, a quality I find confusing in myself. Because I'm not sure whether it indicates a failing of resolve or a gentleness of heart. I certainly hope it's the latter.

As a result, sometime I try to imagine myself living a life of a bureaucrat, a policy practitioner. I know my professional qualities have a penchant for it. I'm rational and almost unemotional when it comes to making decisions. I can plan things, innovative things. But at most times I have a feeling I'll be suffocated in no time living in a culture which dictates what, how, and why I should do certain things. I'm not sure I can stand it for longer term.

But most of all, a life I certainly imagine and long for is a life of a writer and society observer. A life with no strings attached, a life which allows me to roam free and engage with everyone around me as I like. Yet, I need purpose in my life, I am best when I am driven by schedules and goals - so a life of a social hermit will not exercise my potential.

So who am I, really - and what am I meant to do?


¹ If you're wondering who it was, it's George W. Bush.