You And Me, Version 1.0
WHAT MUST IT BE LIKE TO BE SOMEONE ELSE – ANYONE ELSE? All of my life I have only been me. You have been you and, Thank God, They have always been them.
Despite the daily trials, tribulations, and just plain old pains in the tuchus, I would not want to be anyone else. Oh, sure, there have been those moments when becoming someone else seemed like an attractive option – like when you see flashing lights approaching in your rear view mirror.
The 7 year old me wanted to be Buck Rogers and the 10 year old me wanted to be Mickey Mantle. At 17 becoming Paul McCartney looked really cool – and it had nothing to do with music.
Those fantasies were driven by the longing for Adventure, Fame, and hormones, but even at the age of 7 I knew that I was never going to be Buck Rogers – Spaceman.
I’m sure that every boy and girl had their own versions of these passing dreams – and thankfully, they do pass.
Can you imagine, in your life as it is today, if you would wake one morning and find that you are not the you who went to bed last night? What if, when the world looks at you, they see you as a different person – someone you don’t know?
Talk about being Lost in Space.
If this happened how would you proceed? If 10 year old me woke and I was Mickey Mantle it would be chaotic. I would be amazed at what had happened overnight and I’m sure that Mickey Mantle version 1.0 would wonder why he suddenly didn’t like beer and couldn’t hit a curve ball.
If you or I did become someone else what would happen to the person who was already being them? And what about the me I left behind? I know that the old me would have left unfinished business behind and people I wouldn’t want to live without.
Wanting to be somebody else has repercussions far beyond the various “Mes”who are off performing feats of derring-do, on the Diamond, or beating off the adoring Groupies with a stick.
The closest reality to all of this unreality I can think of is the world as experienced through the eyes of someone housing multiple personalities.
That condition is now called “Dissociative Identity Disorder – ‘DID’.”
The general definition of DID is constantly changing, morphing, in the medical world. I take that to mean that the experts can’t get a firm grasp on it – and there are days that they wish they could be somebody else.
A Podiatrist perhaps?
In Podiatry if there is an extra toe or two about, it is no big deal, but an extra person crowding into the shoes? Well….
The idea of wanting to be someone else, a Superhero, Rock Star, or other famous entity, probably comes from feeling powerless with the current me/you/them. What real power over the course of life does a 10 year old have? Not very much. While the Superhero on the big screen seems to have it all together. Of course, the Superhero also has a battery of Writers, Directors, and Stuntmen to smooth out the bumps and make it all look so easy. I’m sure that a peek into the Fortress of Solitude would show Superman taking out the trash and trying to get the Kryptonite stains out of his cape on Laundry Day.
Those scenes would end up on the Cutting Room floor.
These days the only time I wish that I was someone else is when I wake up at 3 AM and have to stumble to the bathroom. In the movies we never see Superman battling the Bad Guy and calling, “Time out! I’ll be back in five minutes. I gotta go to the potty. Make that 10 minutes. This suit may be bulletproof, but it doesn’t have a zipper.”
Wanting to be Mickey Mantle or Paul McCartney may have served a purpose when I was a kid, but today? No. I’ll stay who I am, not only because “The Mick” is dead and Paul is even older than I am. He may be rich, but so am I in my own way – and without having to pay alimony.
the days i don’t want to be me: the Christmas tree was taken down the night before, it’s sleeting outside and frigid, and i have a self-important jerk to meet with at the office who wants his sausage mcmuffin YESTERDAY. Those days i don’t even need to be Derek Jeter but just some lucky dude in Key West.
But when i get back home, my slippers are on, and the beer bottle is open, I know Christmas is one day closer and nobody but me gets to enjoy that with my family.
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When I was young (younger) I wanted to be my Dad. Shucks! I still do.