Stranger Than Who?
My day is full of strangers. People I've never seen before, and likely won't see again, who've been going about their business long before (and will do so long after -- I hope) I spot them on the street, or on the elevator in my building, or in line behind me for coffee (or in front of me...I always seem to be at the end of that line).
Sometimes, I'll see the same stranger in two different places, and feel a little strange about it -- didn't I already see you once? Are you following me? Sometimes I'll realize that they've noticed our double-meeting as well, and then it's even weirder -- you saw me? What made us look at each other? How did we end up in the same place? It's just odd.
Every now and then, while people watching, I'll make up lives for the strangers walking by me on the street. Not that they don't have perfectly good lives of their own, but it's fun to invent details and dramas and families to attach to random people...until they walk out of sight.
I have my moments of shyness, where I don't meet anyone's gaze, where I don't say hello in elevators, and I don't make small talk while someone wraps my flowers/rings through my produce/stands in direct proximity to my ass on the commuter bus. Then I have my moments of social ostentation, where I could climb up on counters to sing, chat about pretty much anything with a bright looking fellow in a bookstore, or exchange silly remarks with someone while waiting for my table in a restaurant.
When I do talk to strangers, I always try to smile as much as possible and offer a bit of warmth. Warmth is something sorely lacking in this world, unless you live in the Southern parts of the planet -- and even then, sweating more doesn't exactly equal social opportunity. Some people do respond in kind, but most remain just as glazed over and cold as can be.
When I don't talk to strangers, I can be one of the worst for staring idly into space, and looking voluntarily lobotomized.More glazed than a Krispy Kreme. Colder than a fistful of popsicles. More chilly than Jennifer Lopez at Jennifer Garner's baby shower.
I don't know why the dichotomy is so strong in me, or why I have such a natural reserve. I know I should be outgoing, and that I should be loving -- when I am, it feels right, and good. But when shyness takes over, it's just as easy to bury my nose in Harper's, and be the only woman on earth.
I wonder if anyone looks at me, and tries to imagine what I do for a living, or where I buy my shoes. I wonder if anyone notices me while waiting for a teller at the bank -- there's Meg at the ATM, fretting about the numbers on the cheque she's depositing. I wonder if anyone fears for my soul when they see me buy Cosmo.
We're so good at ignoring one another sometimes -- then, at other times, we end up completely fascinated with the lives of people we barely know (hence most of the shows on the Fox network). I guess all of our interactions and relationships are like that to some degree.
Not to mention that sometimes we feel like strangers living in our own homes, yet perfectly included in the middle of an anonymous crowd.
I don't pretend to understand human dynamics any more than I understand the appeal of Enrique Iglesias. All I know is, I need to come up with a new word for people I haven't met yet. I mean, geez -- it's hard to imagine anyone stranger than me.
10:43:52 PM 
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