Saint Patrick's Day: It's not just for the Irish anymore

Happy Saint Patrick's Day to all the Irish laddies and lassies! I have to admit that I've done very little to celebrate this year. I have a corned beef in the fridge which will have to go into the crock pot tomorrow morning as I won't have time to cook it tonight. Got up late this morning; no time to fool with a beef brisket and a bunch of potatoes. My car's in the shop (just regular maintenance stuff, but it sure seems to be taking a long time). Anway, given all the constraints, I guess I did what I could to honor St. Paddy this year.

I think sometimes about the labels we give ourselves (as well as the ones given us by others). I guess I think of myself as Irish. My father's family was Irish and Cherokee; my mother's was German and English. Why do I think of myself as Irish more so than the other nationalities? Genetically speaking, I'm probably more German than anything. But I can't imagine myself telling anyone that I'm German.

As far as religion goes, I can't consider myself Christian since I was never baptised or otherwise indoctrinated in that religion. My father was Protestant; my mother was baptized into the Methodist church at the age of 40 (her family's background was Methodist and Jewish, and for whatever reason, she was never indoctrinated as a child either). I suppose, technically, that I am Muslim, having been "converted" in Jerusalem in 1996 (it made getting married to a Palestinian much simpler). Converted from what, though, since I didn't have any religious allegiance to start with? And still don't.

Okay, I guess I'm female, although I've had some difficulty identifying with that segment of the population. I was a Daddy's girl, spending most of my spare time following him around and "helping" him in the gardens or fixing mowers, tractors, and the souped-up go-carts that he built for me. I never understood, or quite honestly liked, my mother. She was a mystery; a bomb whose fuse you never knew was lit until she went off. I've never had any inclination to become a mother myself; it seemed like a punishment to me, spending your days (and nights) tied to another being, serving their every need instead of your own. I seriously doubt that most women do it as a "labour of love" or some self-righteous notion like that, but they do it so that they don't feel lonely, so the hours of their lives are filled and scripted for them.

I wouldn't voluntarily call myself a "sister," although I do have a brother who's six years older than I. I guess the age difference between us was too great; I felt like an only child much of the time.

I would classify myself politically as a Libertarian. I no longer belong to the Libertarian Party, although I once did. I normally vote for Republicans, but I would not apply that label to myself and I would never consent to being called a Conservative.

Other labels I would give myself might include: poet, writer, English major, poodle owner, American, OCD sufferer. Labels I've been given by others include: bookworm, egghead, anorexic, snob, slacker, wife, ex-wife, and girlfriend. I guess there are a few of those I didn't mind being called. I have to wonder, though, how this labeling process affects how we see ourselves and others. I think it's probably human nature to ascribe labels to things as we categorize the stimuli we perceive. I imagine this is a good thing. Without it, we'd be pretty inefficient (not to mention, confused). But maybe the issue comes when we stubbornly cling to a "title" of ours, even when it's no longer useful or even valid. Am I still a Daddy's girl, even though my father died a couple of years ago? Am I a Libertarian even when I vote for the Republican candidate? Is it meaningful that I continue to celebrate Saint Patrick's Day each year (however pathetic those attempts may be), even though most of my genetic material hails from Germany? Well, okay, everybody's Irish on Saint Patrick's Day; I think that's a rule or something. But I have to say I've never celebrated a German holiday or even a British holiday (that could be ugly considering the food) and probably never will.

I guess I've defined myself over the years with a conglomeration of labels that I liked or at least became accustomed to. I still think that I have the ability to recreate myself (and the right, too, damnit). Maybe I even have the duty to do this in the interest of being honest with myself. Okay, I'm off to try on some new labels to see what fits; I'll be taking suggestions as well, so if you think I have a blind spot, feel free to open my eyes with some labels of your own.