Who We Are

“I’ll just be Jules, Vincent.”

I love this line, which is from my favorite movie — Pulp Fiction.

It comes as gang enforcers Jules Winnfield and Vincent Vega are eating breakfast at a coffee shop in Southern California. Noting an earlier near-death experience where he “saw God,” Jules tells Vincent that he aspires to leave the gangster life and “walk the earth.” After Vincent responds by calling him a bum, Jules uncorks those five powerful words.

It might seem strange that this line resonates with me the way it does. After all, it’s far from Shakespearean. It doesn’t even roll off the tongue.

Why does it strike such a chord? Because it gets real. Realer than we’re willing to get.

You see, when we describe who we are, we tend to use a ton of labels as identifiers. Our job, our ethnicity, our family name. Whether it’s ego talking or the realities of a culture built on the twin concepts of diversity and resumes, these labels dominate the discussion. They describe us, define us and even impact our behavior.

Our obsession with rising in stature — both professionally and socially — is fueled in part by our label-crazed culture. And our achievements are shrouded in the context of these labels.

But they don’t define who we are.

Strip all the labels away, and we still have something unique to contribute.

Our quirks, our habits, our intonations, our looks, our interests and hobbies — these attributes are geared toward our individuality. Sure, we might share some of them with relatives, friends, or even complete strangers. But ultimately, the combination of all these attributes makes us unique. It makes us 1 in 7 billion.

The decisions we make, the paths we choose to navigate life’s complexities — these all ought to be as unique as we are as well. But all too often, they get caught in the fray of our label obsession.

This is a reflection of human nature. After all, we are social beings. It’s totally normal to want to conform. It builds camaraderie and a shared community.

Even so, we must consider what we’re sacrificing in this exchange.

Can we do better for ourselves when it comes to the decisions we make? All too often, the answer is yes.

Now, I’m not saying we should all Walk the Earth without a rhyme or reason to it. That strategy is far from foolproof, even in a Hollywood script. (The fate of Jules Winnfield is intentionally left ambiguous in the film.)

That said, I do think we can use the decisions we make to show more of who we really are.

This shift might make us feel squeamish, but it’s worth fighting through the internal discomfort. Why? Because refocusing our internal compass around our individuality forces us to conquer the apprehensiveness of making a decision for ourselves, rather than the acceptance of the masses. It allows us to describe who we are through our actions, rather than our accolades.

Most of all, it leaves us happier and freer. Life is not like its eponymous board game. We each have our own path to follow. Chaining ourselves to the wagon trails others is masochistic and counterproductive.

So, let’s just be Jules. Or Pete. Or Vanessa. Or Cory, Danielle, Taylor, Dylan — you get the idea.

We don’t need more than that to express who we are.

Our Only Self

You’ve probably heard the phrase “I’m going to be my best self today” before.

I think it’s a load of bull.

The person who we are and the person who others see — that should be the same person. If we’re putting different versions of ourselves on display, it means at least one of them ain’t real. And that ain’t right.

We owe it to our loved ones and ourselves to be real. What you see is what you get.

But what if others don’t like what they see? Then there are three options: create different personas to please everyone, stay true to yourself and please no one, or make changes in order to find a middle ground.

When people talk about being their best selves, they think they’re choosing the third option, but really they’re going for Column A. This makes them superficial and shallow.

If you’re shallow, others will walk right over you.

No one wants that, but in the quest to be “our best selves,” we end up in that particular lava pit — fossilizing into a meaningless existence, the memory of which will eventually be forgotten when others find something new to fawn over.

I know this, because I’ve been there.

The place I was raised is not the place I call home today. The road from one to the other was long and winding, and once I got to my destination, there was a temptation to shun the path I’d traveled to get there. It was easy to pretend that I dropped out of the blue, that my past was insignificant.

But that was wrong.

I’ve learned to embrace my past and my future. Sure, it can lead to a lot of awkward conversations with the people I’ve interacted with at various touchpoints on the incomprehensible path I’ve taken — there is no Google Maps for my life; it’s been mostly uncharted. But at the end of the day, I’m being real with everyone I come across, and that sentiment is translatable.

So what to do when you’re trying to improve your life without falling into the “best self” abyss?

It’s simple.

Think about what the change is for.

Is it to change other’s perception of you, or to improve your own life? Is is to improve your popularity or to grow your self esteem?

These attributes are often lumped together, but they shouldn’t be. Basing changes to your own life off of the predicted reactions of others is the shallowest and most selfish thing you can do. Gradually improving your life habits while staying on course with your True North will not only help you live a fuller life, but also help solidify your legacy.

Someone who’s real is golden. Someone who’s real and on the continual path toward self-improvement is memorable.

So instead of trying to be your best self, focus on being your only self. Don’t reinvent it. Improve it.

(And don’t post naked bathroom selfies on Facebook. You’re better than that.)