who do I want to be

A new barista is now making my lattes.  His says that his cappaccinos best show off his skills, but his goal is to make great lattes, too.


Yesterday he was pre-occupied with Halloween, a pagan event that, from what I understand of it, is consecrated to propping up the American economy with yet more disposable junk.


Anyway.


"I just don't who I want to be," he said.


"I have that feeling every morning when I get out of bed," I said.


He laughed.


"I meant for Halloween, but yeah, that too," he said.


I am living, as Sartre said, the "curse of freedom."  Freedom not as the opposite of slavery, but of attachment, commitment, love.


My goals in the first year were not about choosing a costume, but shedding what I had (and drinking as many lattes as possible).  This is happening.  This may have been the easy part.


The costumes beckon and seduce.  Who do I want to be?


Candace