Glass of Water

Oh indeed I am a liar. It’s something I can smile about when I am unsure of myself. Who am I really but a series of complex lies that have become so ingrained that they form a truth known as a ‘personality’? Its six o’clock in the evening now and I want a glass of water. Why? Because I saw a man drink a glass of water on the television and I feel that the action will complete me. It will be a defining action. When I wander from the sitting room to the kitchen I am acting out a scene. The camera follows me on the X axis in a tracking shot and captures that moment when my lips touch the rust infested glass of pure contaminated water. It’s a cold comfort, and it lasts me the time it takes for one ad to bleed into another. I confess I did feel more complete having acted the part of ‘thirsty man’. Ok, get this, every action is an attempt to become a character. I was born in a hospital, I spied a light and then a face, and then more faces. I was blank and was taught how to be human by my Jewish-Polish mother, my British father and by the television. Every act was based on how I perceived they acted. And sure, your parents teach you, but television creates ‘you’. I learned how to walk and talk, my parents made sure of that, but the people on the television created my sense of speech and showed me the way I should walk (through saloon doors at high noon). It is impossible for me to find myself in a sea of the factors that made me who I am. Sometimes I find that character that I am happy with, the smart man in the suit and bowed with a grin who gets the one up on anyone by his ability to lie. I can put it into practice and feel I am the suave man on the television and feel that I am one above my friends and I can look back on that and smile.                                                                But it’s foolish of me to think that this ‘completeness’ is a special trait. Each and every one of my friends will think that they are the perfect character, and they shall smile on the memories of that time when they were the ‘whole’ in the circle of the ‘simple’ or the ‘un-found’. To believe you have found who you are, and settled into a persona, while others wander headless and faceless is absurd. Our ego forces us to believe that we are the perfect personality for us, that we are ancient monuments carved from marble that remain steadfast and strong and unchanging. We change every time we see a new face, a new body, a new jacket, anything that we feel can offer a chance to complete ourselves.