útlendingur allstaðar

....If they were a bit different, a bit special, if they did not play the game, if they were like foreigners from within. Or should one recognize that one becomes a foreigner in another country because one is already a foreigner from within.

Er það hugarfar að vera útlendingur? Getur maður þá verið útlendingur inní sér þótt maður sé af og lifi í eigin landi? Það er kannski bara almennasta tilfinning í veröldinni að finnast maður ekki tilheyra alveg þar sem maður er, en hún er skemmtileg greinin Stranger to ourselves eftir Juliu Kristevu.

..there are to kinds of foreigners, and this separates uprooted people of all countries, occupations, social standing, sexes .. into two irreconcilable categories. On the other hand there are those who waste away in an agonizing struggle between what no longer is and what will never be – the followers of neutrality, the advocates of emptiness; they are not necessarily defeatists, they often become the best of ironists...

on the other hand, there are those who trancend; living neither before nor now but beyond, they are bent with passion that, although tenacious, will remain forever unsatisfied. It is a passion for another land, always a promised one, that of an occupation, a love, a child, a glory. They are belivers, and they sometimes ripen into sceptics.

Hehe, jæja maður hefur sem sagt val um að enda sem tvennt - kaldhæðni eða efasemdir. Ekki vænlegt það draumórapésum.

Being alienated from myself, as painful as that may be, provides me with that exquisite distance within which perverse pleasure begisn as well as the possibility of my imagining and thinking, the impetus of my culture. Split identity, kaleidoscope of identities: can we be a saga for ourselves without being considered mad of fake.