I am what I am

I've started going to the Israeli Dance class at Berkeley's Hillel this semester. It's a much more active class than the one we had a stanford; there are a lot of Jews (mostly from LA) who come and a lot of them know a lot of dances. So it's been a really awesome experience to learn all these dances.

Socially, though, it does feel a little awkward. Everything feels a little socially awkward actually. As I was walking home today I realized that yes, making friends has always been hard for me. That doesn't mean I can't or don't do it; I have a lot of friends, and I enjoy meeting people and making friends (this is one example of how just because something is hard doesn't mean that I can't or won't or shouldn't do it). Nonetheless, being in new environments with people who have very different interests and goals from me is hard. It's a new feeling now because I'm not as used to it as I was before.

When I started going to the Israeli Dance class at Stanford, I felt a lot more awkward. I felt ugly and young and immature. People didn't really talk to me (because, as it turns out, making friends and starting conversations is hard for other people, not just for me), and so I felt like there must be something wrong with me. Then, after dancing with these people for nearly a year, that feeling went away. Well now it's back, because I'm in a new crowd. I feel uncomfortable again, although I really don't feel like there's anything wrong with me. It's just unusual, after spending all my days in lab where I feel, on the whole, pretty comfortable. It's good for me to feel uncomfortable like this, though; it reminds me that there's more to social interaction than discussing interesting topics (i.e. science) and it keeps me from getting too full of myself, which I am wont to do at times. For you see, there's still a large part of me, that will probably never go away, that assumes that all those undergrads (or at least the ones that don't smile at me, which is about half of them) hate me and thing I'm disgusting and want me to disappear from their holy Hillel forever.

I'm particularly reflective about this today because I saw my piano teacher's daughter, Paula, who goes to the Israeli Dance class after mine. After chatting with her and some other people I ended up borrowing a book called "Dancing with Cancer" by Loui Tucker, a dance teacher from San Jose who had breast cancer. The book is a compilation of the emails she sent out to her family and friends during the course of her therapy. It's written very well and very honestly; a part of me was bothered by her confidence in herself and in her network of friends and in the love her friends and everyone around her has for her. I think I was bothered because I'd like to have that kind of confidence in myself and my life, and I don't, at least not now.

I'm so lucky to have the family and friends that I do--and I know that--but knowing and feeling are two different things.