I do things while eating tacos
My high school counselor would always ambush me with one very cheesy, yet almost on the verge of profound question: Who are you?
I’d say that my name is Cristina, but apparently that was mistaken. My name is not who I am.
Maybe I’m a woman from Ecuador; but she’d tell me that I’m wrong, again, because my place of birth and gender shouldn’t define me.
I can have entire conversations using quotes from The Simpsons, and I happen to really like T.V when it’s making fun of people who aren’t me. Another incorrect answer.
She kept asking, and I kept answering: I’m into the energy mosh pits give me, I believe in the power of the triforce, have a biometric retina in my right eye and Gwen Stefani once talked to me in a 50,000 people crowd. See these scars? I serve as my cat´s personal scratching post, and I’ve also won several spicy food eating contests. This is all, without a doubt, big part of who I am. I would immediately hear a speech about how that’s what makes me, but not who I am.
A decade later, and I still don’t know the absolute correct answer to this question designed to make pre-college me incredibly anxious. The person described by all the things listed above became a copywriter along the way, and that’s a huge chunk of who she is. I’m certain my former counselor has no idea what any of that means, and honestly, I’m very proud of that.
PS: In the process of getting my O1 visa.