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Tuesday, August 16, 2005 Popularity at 23 In the last couple of days, more than one friend has told me that I'm popular. It's a funny thing for me to hear for a number of reasons going from elementary school to the past year--I tend to argue that popularity loses much of its meaning after the immaturity of high school, but it's true that in some ways the world operates more like high school than college (meaning: the idea of popularity never quite disappears). I was the second most-disliked person in our elementary school class. How do I know this? When captains got to choose their teams for the various games and sports we played, I was always among the last chosen--and when we got to choose our own partners for various activities, I was always stuck with Kristy Hill, the number one most-disliked person in our class. And to make matters worse, we couldn't stand each other. Somewhere I have an old journal entry complaining about our gym teacher getting irritated at our inability to get along. But I never did figure out exactly why I was the outcast; then, as now, people had various theories, but who knows what went on in the minds of those kids? It was something of a relief to go to college and find out that many of the other students at the University of Michigan had been outsiders--I wasn't the only one. Things got progressively better as I went through school, culminating in college--but I maintain that it's difficult to be "popular" at a large university because there are so many students and so many different groups that while one might be popular in one group, when taken out of that context you'd be on the same level as anyone else. Sorority and frat types might traditionally be considered popular, but in my experience most outside of the Greek system ridicule the ones inside and have no desire to join. In college there's a place for the goth kids, for the hippies, the geeks and the artistic types--the field is more or less level, and no one group has more power than another; if anything, it's the ones who do well in classes that are respected more highly. I'm generalizing somewhat here, but you get my point. Since I've always been an extrovert, I'm comfortable interacting with new people on a constant basis--I love getting to know friends of friends and making them my own. And random people. Somehow this has evolved into what appears to be a large social network--I'm not sure if it's really that I know that many people or that the people come from such different places: I have friends from music, InterVarsity, theatre, the Residential College, Christians United, swing dancing, the University Musical Society, church, and a host of other origins. And since there are less than six degrees of separation in Ann Arbor, people are always surprised to find the connections between themselves. But even with these numbers of friends, last summer I lost my community and it took months, even a year, to gain a new one. It's the nature of a highly transitional city--you form deep relationships with people who then graduate, move, get married, or sometimes just drift in some indefinable way. And without being part of a community, even a large phone book can't dissipate feelings of disconnectedness. Belonging and depth takes time, so in many respects I had a rough year. However, it's true that both times Bryan's seen me in Chicago I've introduced him to different friends and he hasn't yet seen the same person twice (that makes seven people I've either brought with me or met up with in the city, I think). And I generally don't lack for people to take road trips with or spend time with here or there--it's unusual that I'm sitting around, bored. My friends are also very generous in loaning precious necessities like cars and guitars, so I've definitely been blessed. Incredibly so. Yet to think of myself as popular is an utterly foreign concept. It's similar in some ways to a realization I had last summer--after 22 years, I discovered that I knew how to flirt and had never been conscious of it. And that guys were interested. Said guys never believe me when I say that few of them ever approach me (perhaps some of that is for the best), but it's true--it was rare until last year (granted, a couple of serious relationships didn't help, but that's still two years out of say, eight, counting from the age of 14). Again, I don't know why--it was just the way things were, and though I've changed and grown somewhat in a year, the change hasn't been drastic by any means. So: paradigms shifting. ^ Top | 5:20 AM | | | 
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