Anyone else here a Hari Krishna?

(Photos: People and Puppies I'm Getting to Know- Kate and Jamie et al.)

Last night, in the middle of the night, I flipped my arm over my head and smacked it against my bedside table, yielding a gnarly bruise and a big old bump. Two cuts appeared on my arms over the last couple of days, the origins of which I can't recall. I am, in fact, the world's biggest klutz, even in my sleep. A cat without whiskers, a bull in a china shop, that's me. I'm not always this clumsy though. Oddly, when things get steep and technical on the trail, my feet somehow fly me to the finish line rather than send me into a full face-plant, a racing strength I never would have anticipated. I don't know why I can't achieve this same amount of grace moving through the world at a normal pace, but I can't.

The odd thing is that nobody here in New England knows this about me. They don't know most things yet, and I'm starting to get how that feels. I had my first pangs of missing people this weekend, people I know so well and who know me. I missed having inside jokes, the goofiness that comes with familiarity, knowing who to lean my head against when the urge hit me.

Isn't it amazing how we know people? I know that Deb hates it when her fingers swell up when she hikes, and that she'll try to deflate them by wriggling them in the air as she chats her way down a mountain with me. I know that she likes her kitchen clean, and we have a mutual understanding that we will always wash each others dishes, whether we like it or not. I'm pretty sure I could pick out the perfect pair of shoes for Michelle and earrings for Michaela, who, by the way, makes a mean salsa and has an abnormally high threshold for pain. I can carry on a conversation with Dave made up entirely of movie lines, and I know what kind of appetizers to put out when Hilary comes over and which hills she likes to sprint up just for giggles. I know what colors Allyson is inspired by and have had the pleasure of doodling in her sketchbook. I know who I can walk up to and get a hug from, and who I can run up to and playfully, but ruthlessly attack.

I'm learning about my new people too- I now know how wickedly clever Kate is, and that to construct a meal for her that takes into account her extraordinary palate preferences will be the culinary accomplishment of my life (or I'll just make her a burger, no raw onions, mayo and sliced tomato, brussel sprouts on the side with butter and salt). I know that Jamie will eat just about anything and that he likes the car windows open and wind blasting him in the face no matter how hot it is outside. He is always more concerned for other people than himself, and he can carry a sweet tune- he's singing right now in the living room as I type. There is a girl in the lab next door to mine who I'm getting to know a bit after an incident in the ladies room with a spider and a mutual need for the centrifuge to work. We now have a pact that I will do all the spider removal if she will be in charge of calling the tech to fix the machine when it is down.

The point of all of this is that it is odd to find oneself in a place where people know you but don't really know you, and far away from a place where a large body of folks know exactly who you really are.

Nobody here knows that I'm terrified of balloons and birds flying over my head, have insatiable cravings for ketchup (but will only eat Heinz), and wash my feet before I go to bed. I also eat an inordinate amount of jarred salsa and I can't tell you the order of letters in the alphabet unless I go through them all sequentially, making dictionaries, phonebooks and filing practices particularly annoying. I used to take scanning electron pictures of spider butts and I can still remember how to tie a sari.

I don't think they know that for the last few years I've spent the weekend of my birthday alone in the mountains, and that I actually prefer this same solitude at movie theaters. My flock of strikingly beautiful sisters are strangers to them as well... if only they knew how painfully funny they are, and they will, just not now.

I'm sure if you're reading this, most are of you are like, "Ok, Hari Krishna-girl, we knew all that. Why are you sending us your resume?". Well, believe you me, those words are music to my ears. To have people in our lives that know us so well is grounding, even if they're thousands of miles away.

I have a weird instinct to hop on the phone and ring up everyone I know and convince myself that they're right here with me right now- taking comfort in feeling grounded by the familiarity we share. Then there is part of me that feels easiness and strength in anonymity, an opportunity to chill out and continue to get to know all of these people and their worlds, hoping that one of their interests will peak and I can let them in on my gum-chewing habit. I'm sure there's another bull in a china shop among them, and if our stars are aligned, I'll get to know them so well they'll let me wrap them in a sari and make them their favorite dinner, and ultimately I'll figure out whether I can hug them or attack them.