How many u’s are in you?
I am reading Cat’s Eye by Margaret Atwood. Again. I read it years and years and years ago and put it at the top of my list as Favorite Book. But honestly I had trouble remembering the specifics so I bought a loved, well-read copy (i.e. used) and yesterday I read a few pages, determined to just read it — and not to analyze the prose, structure, words, turns-of-phrase or rhythm.
Then I read page six.
“There is no one I would ever tell this to, except Cordelia. But which Cordelia? The one I have conjured up, the one with the rolltop boots and the turned-up collar, or the one before, or the one after? There is never only one, of anyone.”
I’m a mishmosh most of the time, but I do enjoy the occasional separation of my states of being. I’ll leave all but one of me on hangers, or more than likely on the floor, just taking one of me out for a spin. Maybe it’s like watering one plant instead of the whole garden, but as long as you go back later and tend to the rest, it doesn’t cause any irrefutable damage. I also think that sometimes it makes the whole picture a little more interesting to pay attention to one small part.
So how many of you are there?
(And does this answer effect my blog statistics?)
I have a love/meh relationship with Margaret Atwood. I’ve read quite a few of her books, and some of them I lovelovelove, while others, I just can’t seem to get into. I’m that way with Barbara Kingsolver, too. Strange.
I think we all have our many sides, and yes, that’s what makes us interesting. The me from hanging with the girls doesn’t want to party with the me from work, let me tell you.
Which reminds me of my 40th birthday party. My husband rented a room in a lovely restaurant, and invited all of my friends. It was towards the end of the party, and some people had gone home, and I was sitting at a table with a group from college who I rarely see. We were tipsy and laughing and joking around, and Maya came over to hug me, and she said, “You’re NOT in Mama mode”.
Thank god.
I have tucked away a favorite quote of Margaret Atwood’s, where she compares the voice of writing to the voice of music. But I’ve never read her. This one looks interesting to put on my list. Definitely have several variations of myself, and most of them influence in some way the writing person. I like your comparison to a garden; and as the seasons change, you might tend to the zinnias, or tulips, or mums. But they always add to the whole visual.
Margaret Atwood is to Canada what Salman Rushdie is to Britian. Nuff Said there. HeHe. There is only one of me and that is more than enough. I’m not much of a chameleon, I’m the same old crusty boring chick morning, noon and night. My daughter days I have character, I think I’m turning into my mother. Oh.My.Gawd.
Adore Atwood. She and Patrick McGrath and Neil Gaiman are my favorite living writers.
And thee’s many me’s. The Mom Me and the Writer Me, and the me who is hopeful and the me who is weary. I think we change all the time, interchange with each other, and so on.
hehe there are about 4 or 5 me’s, and 3 of them have different names haha. (pen names, not MPD)
There is the erotica writing me
There is the paranormal romance writing me.
There is the business me.
There is the public with friends me
And there is the private at home me.
ooh, I LOVE that book too.
I would say there are at least three u’s in me, and that’s how I got my blog name: Mom, Ma’am, Me.
“I’ll leave all but one of me on hangers, or more than likely on the floor…” Ah, so lovely.
I’m really afraid to count the Me’s, and sometimes it’s parts of several which surface to form a different me.
PS Each time I come here, I sing “Amy Sue” to the Peggy Sue tune in my head. How strange is that?
Wow, that’s an amazing passage. And so true! Must add that to my Kindle immediately.