Friday, November 23, 2012

iammägi


You know what? This photograph kind of creeps me out.

After I took it, I looked at it and the phrase that kept going through my head is, "That's me." Like a dumbstruck toddler who finally discovered that that face in the mirror, the one that keeps showing up at the back of the Pat the Bunny Book, is them.

When I interact with people. This is who they see.
When I'm looking at them, they're looking into those eyes.
And, somehow that all comes back and connects with my brain. It's all physical yet so psychological.

You get to wondering what emotions come to mind when they see your face. When I say "you get to wondering" that means that I'm referring myself and the thoughts that I process through on the occasion.

What I also find bizarre is when they see that face, these sounds come to mind:
[mɛgiː]
or some pronounce my name as:
[mɑgi] or even [magi]

Not sure where this whole, "Maggie," thing comes from. I've been Mägi since 2007.

Anyways...

People see that face and they think of those sounds. When they communicate with me, they make that sound to refer to me. And, other folks share the exact same sound. Name.

With most words come a definition.

Take, for example, tintinnabulation.
Ready for this?

tin·tin·nab·u·la·tion
noun \ˌtin-tə-ˌna-byə-ˈlā-shə

\Definition of TINTINNABULATION
1: the ringing or sounding of bells
2: a jingling or tinkling sound as if of bells

What about mägi?

mä·gi
noun\,mɛ-giː

\Definition of MÄGI
1. ________________

See, this is where I come blank. Am blank. Will be blank.

One of my greatest frustrations is how frequently I define myself by what I've done, accomplished, experienced, or been through.

Zum Beispiel (for example), ever since 2007, much of my identity has (perhaps mistakenly?) been rooted in the year I spent in Switzerland. Now, if I haven't lost you yet and you're still reading (miracle?), this is probably where you'll drop off. But I'm going to keep articulating what's in my mind.

Me. Me just going to this other country. How is that a part of me? Is that wrong to hold on to the past so much?

I think, to start, I held onto Switzerland so tightly and let it become a part of my identity was, oh goodness... you know why. I have yet to get a negative reaction when folks heard I used to live in Switzerland in 2007-2008 and back in 2009. There was some [stupid] surefire thing that people, well, that they liked about me.

But it's been over five years, now, since I first stepped foot in Switzerland and almost six since I first even had the idea put into my head that I would be going there.

And now, my thoughts have changed and I'm on a different page.

Folks still pick up on what 17 year-old Mägi was into. I'm not proud of that.

They call on that event when they articulate that I'm, er, "adventurous" or whatever that word is. I'm not sure. I don't think I really earn it. In my mind, I haven't done that much.

Now, though, when I consider Switzerland to be a part of my identity, it has less to do with Switzerland and more to do with what happened to me in Switzerland.

In Switzerland, I learned that could be me, truly me, 100% me, unapologetically me, and, low and behold, people could like that person. As in, people didn't mind being around me when I was me.

Before Switzerland, I wasn't sure how to figure out how to be me with the masses.
I faced the world with façades and half-baked personas. Not in totality It's not as if I was never-me ever. But, that was not the norm. It was an exception. I'd find fleeting moments of me-ness in the classroom, but I didn't feel accepted for being me. Awkward girl. Awkward insecure child.

I felt as if, in Switzerland, I learned to be whoever the person named "Mägi" was perhaps supposed to be. Or at least I got a taste of who I was becoming. I know I am who I am all the time.

But, I just got this idea and I know it isn't right - but it's still a thought that came to mind and I want to write it out, regardless. My name is who I'm going to be. Who I'm meant to be. The tip-top form of Mägi. And, I'm going to spend all of this life becoming her.

It's like in Pokémon.
You know.
Just like a Pichu is on his way to become a Pikachu and then to a Raichu

Well, I'm becoming.... Mägi.

No. I am Mägi and she's being defined now.
Crap! I can't talk in third person.

I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together.

Wait? Together with... you are he is as you are?
No. Not going there at all.

Ah! Where did these ideas come from? It actually all came from the toilet paper game.

Ever done that ice-breaking-get-to-know-you-game?
You know. The one where they tell you to tear off as many pieces of toilet paper from a roll as you wish before telling you what for. Then, after you have a bajillion of them and they go, "Hey! Yo folks! Tell everyone something about yourself for each of them."

What is there to tell about me? What have I done that will reveal to an audience who I am?

That's where I throw out, gah, what is it I show. I am given the chance to tell folks the right things so that they can create a biased judgement on my character and who I am.

It's just weird.

"Hi. I am Margaret and I've studied six languages and am currently attempting to learn two more."
"I play the cello."
"I'm happiest when I can dance at least 15 hours a week."

Voila.
Yo. I got culture.
So there.

Once again.

Weird.
And totally lame lame lame.

And, hence, we have this completely illegible post from me. One of hundreds. Sometimes I make a point and other times, like tonight, I just warble-wander-gander my way through words and stumble over undeveloped concepts trying to figure things out and accepting that I might not be able to get the pieces to fit before bed. It's as if a couple dozen puzzles got dumped out in a field and I get to spend my life putting them together because I know that the end result will be an image beyond what, in this premature moment, I can conceive.

This is what goes on in that head of mine.
Be glad you don't have to live with it.
Although, I'd rather be trying to figure things out than...

Stop it Margaret.
Just stop.

Wait... I thought I was Mägi.

I'm just going to go ahead and press, "Publish."

Right.
Now.

3 comments:

  1. This might be a complete non-sequitur, but maybe you'll appreciate that. :D

    Ever since you started writing your name "Mägi," whenever I see it, I think of the O. Henry story, "The Gift of the Magi." It's something you would like, I think.

    http://www.auburn.edu/~vestmon/Gift_of_the_Magi.html

    ReplyDelete
  2. Whether it starts with Switzerland or one of your later posts, you must acknowledge that you live a much different life than alot of people. Almost everbody I know (and myself) have lived a life where there seems to be a progression from one sameness to another. I so enjoy your blog because it gives me a vicarious look into what life could/should be. Safe travels to you and enjoy (or at least don't be creeped out! lol) that you are cared for by complete strangers, in addition to your family and friends. - Sharon

    ReplyDelete
  3. not completely illegible. i love your rambling posts because they sound like the inside of my head. only it's your head. and i like being inside of it. and this is just brilliant and beautiful:
    "It's as if a couple dozen puzzles got dumped out in a field and I get to spend my life putting them together because I know that the end result will be an image beyond what, in this premature moment, I can conceive."

    ReplyDelete

Your words make me grin.

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