Determining My Race and Losin' Myself

In all honesty, I think I am much closer to being a black person or a latin person than a stark white person. Really, I am much more than an Uh, Oh! Oreo. Why? I can rap. What? I like Eminem songs? I can sing like a big black woman. I can bargin like a latin. And my sense of humor is equivalent to that of an old man. I feel judging eyes reading this facet of my imagination and yet, I am still content being my plain white self.

But you know what? I have no idea why I am even writing about this. And the point is, if I were black or any other minority in my all-american, white, mormon school it wouldn't matter. If it did, I would just accuse everyone of being racist. In the end does it really matter? I mean, shoot, I have friends of all races and all places.

Why do I desire to be another race, you might find yourself asking, well, I feel as if I am in a time vault, locked up forever. I feel as if I am stuck in one place as a single time and that I'll neither ripen or return to the soil. I feel that the answer is not in this pasty complexion. My soul is old but I still feel young. My heart is taken but my brain seeks freedom. In all, I am between a rock and a hard place--as if I am going through my mid-life crisis at 21 years old. I'm not even eligible for my quarter-life crisis!!!

Solution? Live each day of 8 mundane hours of helping others figure out whether or not the fresh mint toothpaste is better than the cool mint toothpaste. The other half of my time is spent being a mediator of one conversation to the next.

Amidst all of this, I find I am so happy. So blessed. I have the body of a 21 year-old and will be forever filled with the gratitude of an aged woman of any race. And for that, I am dizzy in euphoria.