I’ve always been aware of this interest. But my obsession with watching these human interactions has always thirsted to dig a little deeper, almost to a level of mild creepiness: I’m a huge people watcher (although my sociology teacher told me this is normal, and you can even call it “Detached Observation” and get away with it). I always have had this obsession, and I can’t do a darn thing to help get over it. As a child, I wanted to be the ultimate international spy. I wanted to sneak and snoop— or basically, just watch people. I remember spending my bored hours in middle school, when I should have been doing school work, watching my classmates. I kept a “Stalking Journal,” and each day I chose a new victim to prey on. I would note their oddities, what made them a bit different from everyone else. Let’s just thank God I didn’t have any restraining orders placed on me and my questionable adolescent hobbies. It’s almost a sickness—but I’ve always been so intrigued with the experiences and diverse personalities of others. On October 4, 2007 I brushed on the subject in one of my past blogs:
“As I began to truly respect the individuality of human nature, I took up my interest in writing these details down—engineering characters that showed a vast amount of human fault and controversy—plus is allowed me escape from my angsty teenage hardships…I find myself today wanting to live my life serving people. Not for society's definition of Christianity, not for money, not for recognition, but for my God.”
I couldn’t have summed up my life’s major interests any better than I did then. I now find myself at Florida State University—a college that less than a year ago I would never imagined myself attending—majoring in International Relations and taking up a second major in Creative Writing to live out those very words I wrote two years ago. I sit in my creative writing class every Tuesday and Thursday, listening to my professor express words I’ve always felt. About taking the time to watch people, to receive inspiration, to search for their quirks—what makes them unique, and essentially, what makes them beautiful.
But now on the threshold of total adult independence, I’ve started exploring my own short life, my own quirks, and my own personal history. I’ve learned in psychology that your brain strives to make sense of your experiences. You crave to understand—so you make the connections and generalizations to do so. Within a matter of hours, I sat in my Creative Writing class, learning that the purpose of the memoir is to explore your own identity. I didn’t quite grasp it; my identity can be explored on so many levels though—where to start? The basics?
Name: Erik Soderstrom
Sex: Male
Heritage: 50% Norwegian, 25% Swedish, 12.5% German… the rest I just shorthand by calling Scotch/Irish/English.
Hometown: Lakeland, Florida
Current location: Tallahassee, Florida
Height: 5’11
Eye Color: Green
As much as those physical facts reveal, nothing much is said about the true Erik Soderstrom; nothing truly pegging my identity, at least. To get to the juicy stuff, I realized I would have allow myself plow into the depths. Well, I’m a Christian, first and foremost. Everything I strive for, I find the strength in my God, and in the matchless relationship I work my ass off to develop with Him. His love, Agape, which is said to be the most selfless, giving love, is tattooed over my heart, to symbolize this. Another aspect of my identity many find paradoxical in relation to the previous fact: I’m gay. I can’t prove the validity of these feelings to you, can’t explain it to you, I just am. I spent my entire adolescence trying to make sense of the two, but only until I came to God about it, excluding all outside opinions and judgments, did I feel peace within.
But identity is also personality; what makes you YOU, separate from everyone else. I remember this summer listening to my step mom explain her counseling sessions to me. She was told by her shrink to search for her different sides. At first, this idea sounded weird, but I subconsciously began categorizing my selves also. Let me introduce them (I know, at this point in time, you’re hovering your computer mouse over the little HTML bar, in anticipation of typing in facebook.com, cause this shit is just WEIRD, right?). Just try to humor me.
Kael: Kael is my internal nerd and left brain. Facts oriented, and statistically driven, he loves learning. History, anthropology, theology, sociology, political science—all favorites of his. He strives for perfection in all tasks and projects he takes on. If this doesn’t happen, he stresses. And it can get bad. Sometimes uptight, he exiles himself to the life of a hermit, totally wrapped up in his inner-thoughts.
Josiah: Josiah is Kael’s much needed alter. Open to new experiences and craving spontaneity, he sometimes makes reckless decisions, but takes all the consequences in good humor. Social interactions free him. His creativity is overwhelming, and he appreciates diverse artistic cultures. Music is his thing; it speaks to him, like nothing else. But he’s also a brilliant procrastinator (probably caused by my ADD), and is very easy going—he has to even out Kael, after all.
Mili: Mili is the pilot of my sexuality, so I only saw it appropriate for her to take on the role as my only female alter. She employs a fluent charm aimed towards whoever she comes across in social situations, both genders included. Unfortunately she’s mildly materialistic and vain—but we’re working on improving this.
Hannibal: Hannibal is my inner monster. He gets very little stage time, because he only fully appears when severely taunted. He’s my inner defense mechanism. Don’t mess with him, cause he’s the master debater, very intimidating, and at times a little vindictive. Only a few unfortunate souls have been blessed enough to witness his wrath.
My inner Kael is what originally made me categorize my personality traits—he’s too organized for my own good. But these facets of my personality create ME, and inevitably my writing. You’ll see my serious, pensive Kael. Then observe a glimpse of CrAzY, random Josiah. Then the charm and persuasion of Mili. And if you’re lucky enough, a little passionate force kindled by Hannibal.
Within my three months in Tallahassee, I’ve realized writing is something I’ve been meant to do, but always took for granted. I was always just really good at it. At times I would allow myself to truly indulge in it—and my past blogs and journals show this. But something more important to me than getting those feeling out, is to feed my future inner historian. I’ll occasionally spend hours looking back on my writings—my earliest blogs being written as early as a confused, developing thirteen-year-old. I’ll witness first hand, through the power of my worn words and ideas, who I used to be, and who I’ve grown to become through my experiences. It wasn’t only an escape for me at the time of writing it, but a historical documentation for my later life.
And to this day I’ll grow frustrated with myself for not keeping a consistent journal of my life. Afterall, the memory is flawed and only remembers certain landmark scenes. And as an old, worn man, all I want is to let out my inner historian, and read through the growth of my identity. So more than anything, this blog is an escape for myself; call it self-indulgent, or even pretentious, but this—my past writings—will be the only meaningful thing I’ll have in my possession one day.
On a much lighter note, my cat is currently strung out on catnip, sensually rubbing against anything in her close proximity, including my computer screen.
Now onto some international news:
Beware expecting mothers, babies are getting bigger.
& British midgets, keep away from the vacuums and super glue at all costs.
&& Who knew the Ukrainians listened to pop music?
“Life is a process of becoming: the struggles of the present may be laying a foundation for a happier tomorrow.” -David G. Myers
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