I’d like to think that I am an outgoing person. It’s a healthy portion of the reason I am able to stand up in front of seventy people at our shows and play inspiring characters such as “The Ice Skating Ninja” and “Three Tits, No Arms.”
“Wow, Claire! I am so jealous of your outgoing nature!” You say adoringly. “And you have great hair!”
Well, reader, while your comments are absolutely true, I’m afraid that an outgoing nature tends to end in far more awkward situations than invoke praise and an offer to be Liz Lemon’s personal assistant on “30 Rock.” (By the power of Lorne Michaels, a girl can dream.)
The second cousin of someone famous once said, “With a great outgoing personality comes great responsibility.” I don’t like responsibility. It sounds like some disease. All I know, reader, is that my blessed nature often leads me to exclaim, “HEY (insert name here)!” and strike a waving pose only natural to a third grader fresh off a Pixie Stick high.
However, while I do know people on campus, I do not attend a weekly knitting circle with 2,400 Wellesley college students. Now mix that with poor vision and a touch of short-term memory, and you will most likely find me screaming and striking said pose at a complete stranger whose only goal of walking that day was to avoid being taken down by Unicycle Boy. That was before she met me.
This would not be a problem if my waves were not so unnatural. I wish I could just pretend I was sneezing or spontaneously breaking out into the rumba, or maybe blame my actions on a misguided sighting of the JoBros. Alas, you can’t hide an action that breaks down into what can only be described as part-seizure, part-spastic cheerleader. It’s not exactly a combination found in nature.
But fear not, reader! After a long-overdue visit to the eye doctor, I began to realize that I do know a lot of people here. Now, I am not one to brag. I will not be relaying stories of many a friendly conversation about world peace or Brangelina or whether or not it would be possible to combine a Buffy and Twilight convention without mass bloodshed. Alas, all these conversations have been held in the company of myself. Er- I mean…my roommate! Yeah that’s right.
Reader, do you know what I learned about my legions of acquaintances? Almost every single one owns an iPod. Now, no one appreciates the magician that is Steve Jobs more than myself. Just ask anyone about my hobby of making playlists for studying instead of doing my actual work.
However, I find that my respect for his creation dwindles when I run into these friends of mine. I have a lot of time to ponder the evil of the iPod as I am jumping up and down while simultaneously screaming the name of said friend. I am sure that she would appreciate my energy, especially since these exclamations leave me quite winded. (What can I say? I’m dedicated!) But she will never know. She is listening to her iPod at a volume level that can be heard no farther away than Cairo.
Now, reader, I admit that I also fall prey to what I like to refer to as “plugging in and tuning out.” Sure I listen to my “Where you be walking?” mix as soon as I leave my classroom. I enjoy having a soundtrack to my life. However, I think the time has come for all of us to unplug ourselves and greet each other as normal people do. What do you say?
No, YOU go first!
"Vermont just legalized gay marriage. Ben, you can finally propose to Jerry. This is the Colbert Report!"
