A couple weeks ago in DC, I met up with my friend AJ - former McGuire Campus Ministry Intern, fellow thinker, and Mario Kart Jedi - for some brunch with a side of catching up. We talked about life, dreams (including his pitch for an Inception-based TV series), lady friends, the Rally to Restore Sanity, our thoughts on said Rally, being abroad. It was the kind of conversation that would happen multiple times a week at Villanova but never seems to happen back in Jersey. I felt refreshed after wrapping up our personal and intelligent (at least by my standards) talk and I rejoined my friends.
As I approached my group of friends, I could hear their conversation from several feet away, as I'm sure the marathon runners and spectators within a block radius could too. The topic: everyone's shits that morning. Size, density, texture - no details were spared. The morning before I probably would not have thought twice about such a convo, but after talking to AJ it seemed odd to me. But why?
I've realized more and more, that my context - who I'm with and where I am - has a much larger influence on my behavior than I am comfortable with. For example, since coming home earlier this year I've noticed myself becoming a vulgar smartass who can only display his affections through a neverending series of insults. Fuck, shit, and dick have made their way into my everyday vocabulary. I've talked more about boobs - not anyone's in particular but just about the general idea of boobs - more in the past month than I have about values.
This past weekend I headed out to Penn State with my old roomie Scott and our buddy's girlfriend. In the car, I said "fuck" a couple of times and felt like a horrible person and apologized each time. What the fuck is that about? Was it their reactions? Was it some subconscious part of me that just "knew" better than to use such base language around such sophisticated and well-mannered company?
It goes deeper than language, however. In that same car ride, we had some great conversations about Germany, my experiences in Latin America, Scott's experiences living around the country with Americorps. We talked about politics and the media. We spoke about ideas and "deep" topics. It all just happened naturally. Not once were boobs mentioned. Nor were farts.
Clearly, the person I was at 'Nova is different than the person I was at home growing up and in between school years. Or was I? In Germany, anyone who knew me before and after can tell you that I seemed different when I came home, but I'm obviously not the same person I was in Germany (unless I'm with my friends from Germany and then I revert). The same could be said for my time in Central America.
It seems that I am a different person in different places and when surrounded by different people. So my question is, "Who am I?" Am I inconsistent or adaptable? Does it even matter? Maybe I just have different ways of sharing myself with others depending on who they are and the context we find ourselves in. Is there anything wrong with that?
Regardless of the answer to these questions, I know one thing for certain. There is a "me" I want to be. As long as I focus on keeping that person in sight, I will learn more and more how to be the ideal me in whatever situation I find myself.
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