Who. Are. You.

"And it's hard to say, who you are these days, but you run on anyway, don't you baby?"

That is a lyric from one of the songs from Tom Petty's newest album. The song, Saving Grace, though has been out since July, but as I'm sitting here in the coffee house, it came on over the radio speakers... and it caught me, because usually I only hear it on my iPod.

On a bored Friday night, when my thoughts are not to be contained and my state of tedium is beyond my own comprehension, I have to wonder and think... what defines me? Because when you are bored out of your mind and endlessly frustrated with so many things it isn't fair to list them, it leads, at least me, to think about that question.

Certainly, we are defined externally, by such an assortment of factors that it is nearly impossible to comprehend: what we do, what we wear, what we eat, how we eat, what we read, the places we go, the movies we see... it goes on and on. BUT, what I'm pondering tonight, it the internal definitions. How do we, as the thoughts we contain, define ourselves? And do our internal definitions match our external selves? Do we want them to? And, if we do want them to, how do we get there?

I don't profess to have the answer, I've recently only come to terms with a different internal definition of who I am than what I had thought. The plans I had made, the vision I had for myself, the things I wanted to achieve and accomplish and do have so drastically changed in the last 2 years that somedays it is a struggle to get to sleep trying to comprehend it all. And so I wonder it, tonight, on a very generic forum; careful, as usual, to not divulge that internal definition.

It may seem slightly silly, but a question that started me down this thought train tonight, which is quite unrelated was put to me as follows today: How many pair of shoes would your dream man have?

I said it was silly, but it made me think. I had not ever thought of my "dream man" and his affinity for shoes. I answered the question, for those now wondering, that I felt it would be most beneficial if my "dream guy" were a designer and noted that as much as I loved Manolo's I was afraid Mr. Blahnik was not my type after it was suggested I look in Italy. Though I do lust after Calvin Klein....but really, who doesn't??

Omnious questions and thoughts on a Friday night in downtown Ann Arbor watching every form of student pass by my window seat. I think it is time to pack it up for the evening, go home to a nice, long hot shower, and wash the day away. As is always the case, the questions will linger, but maybe that isn't a bad thing, just maybe it is what defines me.

Mahalo.