“hi, my name is”

This is a phrase that I have used a lot in the past 3 weeks.  Bring uprooted from a city of multiple circles – and being intimately known in each of them – and transplanted into a new reality where those old circles must be replaced with new ones is . . . well . . . it’s where we are right now.  More so for myself than for my husband, simply because he hasn’t actually transplanted yet.

Every day since we moved into our cozy little niche in Pasadena on June 10th, I have introduced myself, re-introduced myself, made small talk, shared some version of my story, listened to other people’s stories, asked follow-up questions, made connections, laughed at the similarities between strangers and gone on my way.  Again.  And again.  And again.

Each day I meet someone new in my incoming grad school class of one hundred students.  Each day I talk with a new member of our apartment complex, where we live as a community, sharing meals and chores and cardboard boxes for moving in and moving out.  Each Sunday, I go to church and look around at people that maybe I will know someday.  The introductions just keep on coming.

It’s apparent to me that this stage of introduction, small talk, sharing your story, and learning others’ stories, could go on for some time.  A few more weeks, at least.

But then I realize that, in Oceanside, I had three years to invest in people.  Three years to establish community, find my niche, and feel like I was “home.”  I had three years to “be known.”

And now that is starting over.  Starting over in every aspect.  New living situation.  New neighbors.  New grocery store clerks and bank tellers.  New classmates and professors.  New potential for mentors and employers.

And here’s the thing that I find interesting.  With every introduction, with every “Hi, my name is . . .” it’s an opportunity to present myself however I want.  I mean, think about it.  Isn’t that amazing?  Sure, when it comes down to it, there’s a “baseline me” that people will eventually get to know.  But with every introduction to someone new, it’s a chance to unveil my ideal self.  Maybe this sounds weird, but we all have an image of how we want to be perceived – it’s our “ideal self.”  And each time I meet someone new, I have the opportunity to get started on the right foot, and come across the way that I want to be perceived.  (This is the Psych major in me coming forth.  Metacognition, or “thinking about how you think,” is a great thing.)  Additionally, with every first encounter, I have the opportunity to show the other person that I am truly interested in their story and that I value what they have to say.  If that doesn’t happen on the first time, then how will they know that that’s who I am?

So, when you think about it, until the introductions die down and we begin to settle in to our new little world, I could potentially be constructing and re-constructing my ideal self in the midst of reality for the next few weeks.  It almost feels like too much responsibility!  And so I have to decide how I want to present myself – as the high-strung one?  the ultra-busy one?  the cool, calm, and collected one?  the ambitious and goal-oriented one?  the good student one?  the responsible one?  the peaceful one?  the bossy and self-absorbed one?  the caring one?  the people-oriented one?

Do you see what I mean?  That’s not to say that I am all of those things, but imagine the possibilities.

And so I go about my daily greetings, contstructing a social image of myself that either measures up or falls short of my ideal self.  I mean, let’s face it, they’re all going to get to know the “baseline me” sooner or later, not that that’s a bad thing.  But, for now, I suppose I can embrace this time of being “unknown” as an opportunity to be aware of how I transition from “that person I met in class/the apartment/church/town yesterday” to “Christie, that person who is the ___________ one.”

And then the introductions can subside and the relationships can begin.