The Unauthorized Biography of Rosco P. Coltrane

When it's my moment in the sun, I won't forget that I am blessed, but every hero walks alone, thinking of more things to confess

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Location: Owensboro, Kentucky, United States


Sunday, February 18, 2007

The Myth of Driver's License

Yesterday morning, I was entering a facility when the guard asked me for my driver's license. I pulled my wallet out and found that my driver's license was no where to be found. Luckily, for me, the guy let me in the facility. I started to go back through my mind, trying to remember when they last time I had to produce my driver's license. I have retraced my steps and know that I have misplaced it somewhere between Monday, when I went to the bank and Thursday, when a friend asked to look through my wallet. For the life of me, I don't know where it is. I have looked everywhere. I think I will go by the bank on Monday morning and see if they have found it, but I am not getting my hopes up.

So right now, I have no way of positively identifying myself.

For the past week, I have been living without a driver's license and not knowing. I have went everywhere without identification. But now that I am conscious of not having identification, it simply gnaws at me.

Paul Simon had a song called "The Myth Of Fingerprints," in which he sings about the fact that we leave fingerprints everywhere that can identify us, but we somehow change between the time we leave fingerprints. The funny thing is, the same thing is true of our driver's license. My license can tell you that I need corrective lenses, have hazel eyes, my first name is Joshua, and have no hair. But it only identifies me, it cannot tell you anything about me. Maybe it can tell you that I am somewhat forgetful and have ran my wallet through the washer and dryer a few too many times, but that is it. My real identity is less accessible, only shared with those that I want to open up with and those that have known me for many years. And even then, that identity can change throughout time.

What can I do, but try to find my driver's license and try to prove to someone that I am who I am. Sure, that raises some very large existential questions. The truth of the matter is that I don't really want to prove who I am, I just want to prove I am who I say I am, that and maybe get a margarita at La Huerta.


Blogger whitney said...

Maybe Meredith took it so she could steal your identity.

10:53 PM  

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