A Blank Sheet of Paper

This is a blank sheet of paper.

But now it isn't. Consider how the awareness of one’s being changes the state of one's being.

What am I? I am a human being. But I am a human being (or a man or a student or a writer or a parent or a fucking astronaut) that is aware of what I am. As a result of being aware, I create a label for myself, a label of what I am. And I apply that label to myself. In the process of applying that label to myself, I change what I am. I change how I behave. I do not act as merely a human being (or merely an astronaut or merely a parent). I act as someone aware of what a human being is, as someone aware of how I do or do not fit this definition of a human being, as someone aware of how I need to change my behavior in order to better fit this definition. I don pretense and become artificial.

But I still am aware, just now I am aware of how artificial my being has become. And so, because of this awareness, I change my being. I strove to be more authentic. But isn't it impossible to be authentic if I, fully aware of my inauthenticity, am artificially changing my behavior in order to become something?

A case study: Johnny hears a song on the radio and enjoys it. In his enjoyment, he thinks of nothing. But he soon hears the song again. And he becomes explicitly aware of his enjoyment of the song. He looks up the band. It's Metallica. "I like Metallic," Johnny says. "I am a fan of Metallica." So Johnny buys a Metallica t-shirt. He buys their entire discography and he goes to their concerts. Why does he do this? He is a fan of Metallica. He, aware of what it is to be a Metallica fan and aware of how he needs to act in order to fulfill that definition, has acted as a Metallica fan by changing his behavior to become a Metallica fan.

But then Johnny becomes aware of the mask he has created for himself. Maybe he realizes that he doesn't really like Metallica that much, he just likes that one song. He is not a Metallica fan; he is merely a person who enjoys a bit of Metallica. So he drops the act. But then what does he become? A pure and authentic human being or does he create for himself another mask? What if he hears and enjoys another Metallica song? Does he eschew it and ignore his enjoyment of the song because he is no longer a person who likes Metallica? Or does he allow his sincere enjoyment sneak through the definition he has applied to himself?

I think, therefore I am, therefore I must act in accordance with what I am.

What if all of human behavior is nothing more than a shallow attempt to conform to the labels we have applied to ourselves, labels that result from our awareness of what we are and what we would like to become?

When I introduce myself, I say my name. I say “Hello professor, I am Chris Huebner.” What are the implications of that? What is “Chris Huebner”?

That declaration (“I am…”) is horrifying. “Chris Huebner” is not who I am. It’s who I have acted as for my entire life. When I was eight years old, some past version of me spat out a piece of tomato. I didn’t like the taste of it. Or maybe it was just he that didn’t like the taste of it. Regardless, that dislike of tomatoes became a part of “Chris Huebner.” It was included in all the experiences and memories that define my identity. That is part of what it means to be “Chris Huebner.” He doesn’t like tomatoes. Do I like tomatoes? The answer isn’t “yes” or “no”. The answer is that I am Chris Huebner, and Chris Huebner does not like tomatoes and I am Chris Huebner.

So what does it mean to exist, not as the vague “me” but as a specific character, one which we have created and applied to ourselves?

If I am able to declare that I am something, I immediately prove that I am not that something. I am, instead, a thing aware that I closely fit the definition of something and I am a thing that is now trying very hard to fit exactly that definition of something. I don the persona that I have created or society has created for me. Then I become artificial and fake. Then I lose my authenticity and my humanity. I allow my cold, callous and rational awareness of self to feed me lines, tell me what to or what not to be. I become what I am not by trying to become what I am trying so damn hard to be.

I am a fucking idiot.

And that is the trouble with awareness. That is the impossibility of authenticity.