People Who Define Themselves

generally defy the definitions they give themselves. I think.

The other day, some friends and I went out to dinner. Now, the members of our dinner party were of various ages and backgrounds. There was a gay guy. I define him as such because he goes out of his way to define himself as such, often and loudly. (One couterexample, I guess, to this whole theory, 'cause I'm pretty darn sure he really is gay.) He is just shy of 21 years old, and he was there with his latest boyfriend, who is just 17. Then there was his roommate, female, former alcoholic and drug addict, 21. Her friend, senior in high school, 18, gets a big kick out of chilling with the older "kids." A friend of mine I've known forever, age 26, in many ways closer to my world than to theirs, although it is he who has pulled them into my world. And then there was me, age 30, substitute teacher who has actually taught many of the others at the table.

As generally happens when a group of people who know the same people get together, the topic of conversation turned to some friends we have in common. We were discussing another "friend"- a close friend to the former drug addict, not so close to me- who is the epitome of immature. Maybe not so immature for her age and stage in life, as she is 18 and has just finished her first semester of community college, but immature nonetheless. To me, and to Hepzibah (that's what we'll call the 26-year-old friend of mine, rather than using his real name), anyway, she is almost unbearably immature. Drinks too much, talks about drinking even more, tries any substance, controlled or uncontrolled, that anyone offers her, tries WAY too hard to impress people by playing the part of the cute, giggly, flirty coed. Fake. Annoys the hell out of people. The main problem is not just that she is immature but that she follows the rest of us around wherever we go and doesn't understand that her behavior is more appropriate with her high school friends than with us, specifically me and Hepzibah. That was the long way to get to this point. In any case, we were talking about her. And then Maribell (that's what we're calling the 18 year old friend of the former drug addict) asked, "Do I seem immature like that to you guys? I mean, I don't think I'm immature. I always look around at all the other kids at school, like in my chorus class, and think, my God, they're more immature. I've always been mature for my age, though."

That's what I'm talkin' about. I've never heard a single mature person in the world say that he or she is mature. Ever. I'm not sure if this is because they are mature enough to avoid it, or because they don't need to mention it, or because once they say it, they cease to seem mature, but they just don't do it. Maribell is mature by her own standards, sure. She is very possibly more mature than many other high school seniors, but you don't score any brownie points by explaining to someone how mature you are. In speaking about her own maturity, she defied her own definition of herself.

And the today, a group of us had lunch together. I was there, and Hepzibah was there, along with Hepzibah's sister, and two other friends of ours, both twenty-something college students home on winter break. One of them is a guy, homeschooled and slightly geeky, but a decent guy nonetheless. The other is a girl, thin, expensively highlighted hair, delicate features. We'll call her Girly Tomboy. The topics of conversation consisted mainly of Girly Tomboy's many would-be suitors and their obsessions with her and college classes past, present, and future. At one point, she said, "I feel sort of like a beautful disaster. People look at me and see this" --at which point she gestured so that we all knew she meant her face and her body-- "and they think I'm perfect, and then they go to get into my car or something and see what a mess I really am."

The fact that she called herself beautiful, perfect, even, made me think that she probably isn't as beautiful as she seems. Beautiful people just are- they don't need to point out their beauty, talk about it. And the thing is, before she defined herself as beautiful, I probably would have called her beautiful, and that was in large part because she seemed unaware of how the world looked at her. But now that she has, I can't look at her and see beauty anymore. Instead, I look at her in search of flaws so that I can disprove her statement.

Maybe it's just me. I know that I'm somewhat of a rebel. I don't like to do things people tell me to do or think things that they want me to think, so it may just be in my nature to try and discount what people tell me about themselves. But somehow, in the deepest, most thoughtful part of myself, I really think that people who define themselves defy their own definitions, even if only by making people look at them more intently and find all the things that don't fit the definitions.

Or maybe I'm just jealous because I don't have the courage to define myself as mature or beautiful. Maybe.