A personality is
difficult to define. It is typically complicated, multilayered, and even
unknown to the person to whom it belongs. Yet it is only human to attempt to
define one’s self. Our possessions, our objects, our belongings, and our
favorite items all speak volumes about us. Without even realizing what we have
done, our personalities shine through the symbols we keep close. I am no
different. Complex. Multilayered. And there are parts of me that I am sure I do
not know.
I
do know that I am sentimental. I attach feelings to otherwise meaningless
objects. They are the embodiment of memories or pieces of my past, present, and
future. Among the symbols that are extensions of myself are my Jeep, my bow and
arrows, my basketball shoes, and my fleur-de-lis ring. Though the
characteristics of each symbol may overlap, each displays a piece of my
personality.
Candy-apple
red, often with mud up to windows, and sporting a convertible top, my Jeep is
among my favorite possessions. In two months, it has traveled nearly two
thousand miles as I have chauffeured my family around town, down highways, and
through muddy back roads. Versatility is a key feature to the Jeep. It goes
anywhere. Around town it becomes an eye-catching conversation piece. In the
Mississippi swampland it is a way through a particularly muddy, rough section
of dirt road. The Jeep has been a right of passage into a little-known family
of Jeep drivers. It is but common courtesy to wave and acknowledge one another
on the roads. All around, there is little to complain about in my Jeep.
Yet
there is a deeper meaning to my car than being fun. It is most definitely an
extension of myself. Though I am not particularly loud, I like to be striking,
to turn heads with confidence and strength. The Jeep shows off my need to stand
out from the crowd; running in the middle of the pack is not for me. “Average”
is a word I never want to hear associated with myself, my accomplishments, or
my endeavors. I wanted and needed a car to make a statement without saying a
word and to show a piece of myself off to the world. In the Jeep, I am given
the freedom to do just that: make an impression.
Though
not as public as the Jeep, my bow and arrows are just as colorful, sporting my
favorite shades, electric blue and hot pink. Powerful, fast, quiet, and light,
it is the perfect hunting tool. My dad, brother, and I all hunt with bow and
gun, enjoying the closeness to nature it provides. Shooting a bow well took
hours of practice, plenty of bruises from the string burning my arm, and a few
tears of pain or frustration. I have a lot of pride invested in my archery.
Every time my fingers close around the walnut grip, I am focused, confident,
and on top of my game. Fifty pounds of resistance fight the draw, but, once
overcome, that weight gives the weapon its speed and strength. The upper and
lower limbs flex under the taut bowstring. Every element of the bow holds an
air of quiet strength and confident power.
The bow is more
than a weapon. It is an empowering tool which allows the shooter to determine
the placement of a flying, spinning blade. Holding it, drawing it, and shooting
it all bring a sense of strength. There is little more satisfying than a
perfect “10.” My bow represents a “rough-around-the-edges” part of my personality:
not backing down or ever quitting. I can fend for myself. Perhaps it is an
intimidating trait. But perhaps I’m alright with that. Being at the top of the
class, an athlete, and a “rule-follower” puts a massive target on my back. I’ve
learned to take the efforts of others to pull me down in stride. Smile, nod,
congratulate, and move on. It is easier for them to make the top seem closer
than to get closer to the top. I welcome the competition. It can only make me
better. My bow displays the side of me that stands tall under pressure and the
competitive spirit that sees opponents as just another hurtle to leap.
Fending
for myself applies perfectly to my favorite athletic activity: basketball.
Scuffed and scarred, my basketball shoes show the wear and tear of Varsity
girls’ basketball. Among the roughest and most aggressive sports, basketball is
a test of will power and physical strength. Five on five, defending and
attacking opposite baskets, it is a sport of bruises and scrapes, sweat and
blood. Each teammate relies on the next as a family, and each game puts our
family to the test. Now sitting stale in my closet, my shoes remind me of my
teammates, our camaraderie, and our long hours of work every time I see them.
Those
shoes carry pride and memories for me. 6 years of basketball have changed me, made
me an aggressive, assertive, strong person. I don’t back down. I don’t slack
off in the gym or in anything else. I don’t know how to give up. My shoes are
merely a symbol of my all-or-nothing attitude, a token to hard work put in and
success achieved. When I put them back on each November, a sense of pride in
how far I have come from a relatively shy, reserved child, to a confident,
assertive high school student is inevitable.
Lastly,
my ring was a cherished gift from my mother and father when I turned 15. Now slightly
tarnished silver on the inside with gold bands on both edges and fleur-de-lis
embossed into the center portion, it is truly a piece of art. It is elegant. It
is refined. It is an item I rarely leave home without.
The
ring is a drastically different embodiment of my personality. It represents the
side of me that enjoys dressing up and going to a nice restaurant, attends
Mardi Gras balls in floor length dresses, and spends time at the country club.
Refined and elegant, it is the side of me that takes pride in little
accomplishments: walking gracefully thanks to ten years of dancing, finally
getting my hair to look just the way I planned for homecoming, or not spilling
anything on my clothes at dinner. One might call it petty or up-tight, but
mostly, my ring represents the class of a daughter of the South.
I
am not so different than other people. I at least like to see myself as
multifaceted and impossible to truly define. People wouldn’t be nearly as
intriguing if everyone could be summed up in just a few simple, probably
overused, and ultimately tired words. Everyone wants to say that they are nice,
and smart, and a good friend, but are they not so much more than that? My
symbols are displays of that complexity. They show off bits and pieces of my
personality, and I hold them close because I have attached them – simple,
mostly replaceable objects – to pieces of myself. The morals I value, the
attributes I take pride in, and an overview of my personality can be gathered
from observation of all the symbols I possess, not only my Jeep, bow, shoes,
and ring. I do not think I can define myself, or anyone for that matter.
However, my personality is not hidden. Just take a closer look at the objects I
hold most dear.
