Identities and Expectations

          Identity is a peculiar mask: easily altered, flipped, worn out, overworked, disguised, buried, put on display, flaunted, and ultimately defining the creature we call ourselves as what some of us choose to be and others are chosen for.
          I'd like to think I have chosen my identity, or identities as the case may be, for myself. I don't pretend to be someone I'm not, no matter the situation, but there are multiple facets in the concave surfaces of what are called personalities. Mine included.
          Ask any good friend of mine what I'm like in our circle of jokes and camaraderie, and (knowing my friends) you would likely receive a novel the size and density of that penned by the late, great Mark Twain himself. Perhaps I exaggerate. Perhaps I can explain. To my friends, I am random at times, quick to be critical at others, ready to laugh at anything, laid-back in stress, and always moving fast. It is all a part of who I am, how I choose to be. And if it takes others a trip down the River with Huck Finn to describe me, so be it.
          Home, I'd say, is not much different. I like to relax on occasion, but I'm willing to work. I can joke and use a little quick witted humor without the worry of offending poor soul who may hear only half of the statement. I know the expectations and the acceptable actions, and, in general, I toe the line. Maybe that stems from the fact that many of the expectations are my own. I find that more often than not, i disappoint myself long before I do someone else.
          As afore said, identity is a peculiar thing. However, I do my best not to wear a mask. If by any chance I do, I hope at least that it is the same face, and that I recite the lines of the same character, in any setting.