I gotta have my orange juice.

Rosenstock-Huessy contests the ideal of a full and perfect outward authentic expression of the self:

The fiction of today is that everybody by birth is a person. That’s a very dangerous fiction. That’s why we today are in such trouble with our religious education, with our political parties, with Mr. McCarthy, with Eisenhower. It isn’t true that a man wakes up and is a person. A person is a man who can cope with opposites, who can decide when is the time for what in his life. If you are a playboy, and you don’t know when to become serious and become soldiers, you aren’t a person. You are a playboy. As we say, you see. Or when you are a brute . . . a man who is always on the warpath, I mean, who has to “fight the Japs,” . . . ? Well, he’s not a person. He’s just again a boy, a pirate, a—or a wild Westerner. Not a person.

A person is something you have completely lost sight of. . . . A person is something very clear, who . . . can decide, the mask, or the role which is on his face. . . . Persona in Latin means to sound through the mask. The person is originally the actor on the tragic scene who wears the mask of the hero, you see. And a person is that man who therefore knows when to wear one mask or the other. (Eugen Rosenstock-Huessy, Cross of Reality, 1953, emphasis added)