I do a lot of cool stuff. Some of the people in my life refer to me as a Renaissance Man - their way of saying I'm a man of many talents and skills. I accept this title. I'm not very humble, after all (the one skill I don't possess!) and it pleases me. I like being considered as a man who can do anything he puts his mind to.

Lately, though, I find that the hardest thing for me to do is define exactly WHAT I do. When someone asks me what I do for a living, I have to take a deep breath and start from the beginning. Or I have to truncate the litany and give them the highlights. No matter what, I never really get through the whole grocery list. Eyes begin to glaze over, or someone latches onto one aspect of my work and won't hear anything else. Which is why, depending on who you ask, some people will tell you I'm a web designer, others that I'm a documentary film maker, and still others a graphic artist. My favorite is "writer, author of books and articles." No one seems to remember that one, though. Maybe it's not glitzy enough.

I'm not patting myself on the back here. I have a point.

We live in a world that is obsessed with definition. Defining who you are to the rest of the world

has become a national pass time. Wander into your local Barnes and Noble and it won't take you long to find the self-help and motivational books. There are rows upon rows of books designed to help you figure out what to say when someone asks, "Who are you?"

I've recently decided to narrow down my own personal list of responses. People aren't really listening anyway if I start into a diatribe of "what I do for a living." So I've shortened it to the business card response. "Digital Media Producer and Writer." Lots of leeway there. I can elaborate on demand. I can expound on what "Digital Media" entails. The term "producer" evokes the appropriate images of Stephen Spielberg or George Lucas or Peter Jackson. And writer - in context I'm sure that most people will assume I mean scripts and memos and other production documents. That's fine, too. Most novelists (which is how I prefer to think of myself) aren't out producing business cards anyway. They simply announce what they do and let the term "novelist" speak for itself.

This morning, as I sip my cappuccino and watch my cat try to soften the top of my computer monitor with her endless kneading, it has occurred to me that defining myself is an ever changing and ever growing concept. Why has it taken on such importance? Can I really relate to someone who I am and what I stand for with just a title? Is it worth it to even try?

People seem to get ruffled at the concept of labels, and yet they insist on labeling themselves. Recently, I heard on talk radio that there was a production of "Snow White and the Seven Dwarves" being performed live in England. Only, the term "dwarves" has been deemed offensive by people who were born with the condition of dwarfism. So the musical is now being billed as "Snow White and the Guardians of the Forest." Which, as impressive as it sounds, evokes a much different image of the play. I confess I've only seen the Disney version of the story, but I don't remember the little guys "defending" anything. And weren't they miners?

Political Correctness strikes again.

So people who have the condition of dwarfism are now...what... Vertically Challenged? Height

Reduced Americans? Is the condition even called dwarfism any more? Maybe I've committed a faux pas.

What's interesting to note is that labels are always a point of contention among the various races. African Americans bristle at terms that were once used and commonly accepted by all. Even the term "African American" is becoming an offensive term. Some have asked, "Why have a label at all? We're all just human." Which, I hasten to point out, is a label as well. But inevitably, feminists (who hate being called feminists) will surely be ruffled enough to say that they'd prefer NOT to be called anything that contains the label "man." And instead, we should call ourselves Land Based Mammalian Creatures of Various Genders and Skin Tones.

I've wandered. I began by talking about how we define ourselves based on what we do. Look where we are! I guess I should add the term "Rambler" to my personal list of labels.

Here's the thing - labels are necessary. We need them. Imagine how much trouble it would cause if someone robbed you and you were forced to describe them as, "Male Mammal Biped." Or if you were meeting someone on a blind date and their description was "Oxygen Processing Female." We currently live in a society where it is taboo to be descriptive.

Ironic - since we spend so much time trying to "find ourselves." Could it be that the reason we have so much trouble defining who we are is because we refuse to be labeled? Is it really such a bad thing to be tagged with a description based on a cursory examination of your physical body, your ethnicity, your job? I don't define myself by my job. I don't consider my tastes in music, television, movies or clothes to be the extent of who I am. But it's convenient and easy for me to shortcut the description of J. Kevin Tumlinson with terms like "Writer," or "Producer" or "Artist." In college or interviewing for a job, I'm "Caucasian Male, Engineer." Or "Media Expert" or "Origami Artist."

Labels aren't permanent. There's no need to get worked up about them. People will perceive you more accurately with time. Labels are just a starting place. Defining who you are takes a lifetime. Having a label just gives you a platform to work from.

J. Kevin Tumlinson is the Editor for ViewOnline Magazine at www.viewonline.com. He holds a Masters in Education and has won numerous awards for writing fiction and non-fiction. You may reach him via e-mail at kevin@viewonline.com. He defines himself as a Written Communications American.

Recently I read "Pour Your Heart Into It," a look at the success of Starbucks as seen through the eyes of their CEO, Howard Schultz. If you have any interest in business I'd HIGHLY recommend this autobiographical peek into the inner workings of a cultural and business phenomenon. It chronicles how Starbucks became something of an "overnight" success in a business that was stagnant and dead before it arrived.

You'll certainly learn how Starbucks got its start and how it operates, what its mission statement is and how the company lives up to it, etc. But one of the most fascinating things to come out of Schultz's book is this concept of "the Third Place."

First comes your home life. Your family and friends make up this first aspect of your reality where you deal with domestic issues, yard maintenance, taxes and paying the bills. Second is your office life. Here you deal with the daily pressures of "doing your job." You cope with the unexpected, fall into a routine and/or climb the corporate ladder. But then there is that Third Place. The "home away from home." The "office away from office."

For Schultz, of course, that third place should be Starbucks. He and his company have designed their coffee shops to be more than just a stop-and-sip environment. They're a place of gathering, of sharing ideas, of holding discourse. Unfortunately, despite their best efforts, Starbucks doesn't always live up to this lofty concept. It's a great place to meet a friend for a latte after work, and you can even do some reading there. But loud coffee grinders make most conversation difficult, all the really comfy seats fill up quick, and (the most annoying part for me) they charge you to use their wifi internet connection.

Still, Starbucks has managed to do their part for the Third Place environment better than anyone else of late.

The idea of a gathering place that was neither home nor work isn't new. The beer gardens in Germany are part of this concept - a place where people can gather and enjoy something together, talking about the big topics of the day. Socrates held lectures with much the same concept in mind, having his students lounge and openly ask questions and make discussion. The Third Place concept is something that human beings naturally gravitate toward.

Look at television. Cheers was a bar where everybody knew your name. Ross met regularly with the rest of his "Friends" at the Central Perk, a coffee shop with an ironic name. Frasier and Niles sipped espressos at Cafe Nervosa. Jerry, George and Elaine ate chicken salad and turkey sandwiches at Monk's. You get the drift. The Third Place is deeply engrained in us. It's a place where we feel we belong and can be ourselves with others who share our passions.

Hey, did anyone else notice that all of those shows are on NBC? Weird.

We all seek community in our daily lives. Many of us claim to be loners or independent or private, but the truth is we seek others who are like-minded. We look everywhere to find people that are reflections of some aspect of ourselves that we like. Sure, we can totally be ourselves at home, but that place has its own pressures and concerns, just like work. Every now and then you just want to hang with some friends, laugh uncontrollably, talk about something other than the climbing electric bill or the status of that latest project at work. For some this is church. For others it's a bar or a pool hall. Some people find this sort of community hanging out in gas station parking lots after closing time (memories of high school...flooding back uncontrollably...must think of Socrates and Plato once more...).

I love Starbucks, but I have a hard time thinking of it as my "Third Place." Even Howard Schultz admits that for most people the only real social contact they have in Starbucks is a short conversation with the Barista. Then they get their latte or Italian Roast, doctor it to taste and either leave or sit isolated at one of the small tables. No interaction with the people around them with just a few rare exceptions. So where's that social interaction? Where are the deep conversations and the well thought out discourse?

I think my third place used to be college. I mean, I went for like fifteen years. One more degree and I get a free decoder ring. But that time has passed (for now...PhD anyone?).

Where do I go now?

Actually, I found something of a Third Place in the home of my fiancee's family. We often gather on their back patio to have dinner, drink wine and coffee, and talk about what's going on in our lives. Great ideas have sprung up from some of those conversations. Debates have been waged. Having grown up in a home where conversations were generally limited to topics that are outside my personal interests (such as sports and NASCAR), it's rewarding for me to be able to talk with people who share many of my interests, passions and concerns. I don't think I ever really considered it, but I was starved for conversation!

The Third Place is an important aspect of daily life. It's one that is often taken for granted. But if you want to be healthy, happy and wise you'll make a consolidated effort to find one for yourself. For you maybe it's church or golf or a pool hall. No matter what, set aside time at least once a week to go to your Third Place.

That's where all the real growth happens.

J. Kevin Tumlinson is the Editor for ViewOnline Magazine at www.viewonline.com. He holds a Masters in Education and has won numerous awards for writing fiction and non-fiction. You may reach him via e-mail at kevin@viewonline.com. He has his eye on that decoder ring.