Like the back of my hand

While climbing up the stairs of Ballantine Hall, I realized that I didn’t know any of the people passing me on their way down.

I know, IU is a huge school with nearly 40,000 students, and it’s impossible to get to know them all. But it felt strange to realize that I can pass the same people every day without knowing anything about them.

In this particular instance, though, I tried to justify not getting to know them. First of all, I was in no physical state to start introducing myself to people. I was out of breath and my vision was blurry due to the tears that had accumulated in my eyes from the intense workout. If I ever feel like I’m in good shape, the stairs at Ballantine exist to challenge that belief.

The main reason I didn’t attempt to get to know the individuals in a sea of faceless Hoosiers was that part of me figured that even if I did introduce myself, I still wouldn’t know about their aspirations, their fears or their idiosyncrasies. It takes time to learn that much about a person.

My friends and I love to talk about how well we know each other. My favorite, and surefire, way to make my friends laugh is to mimic their mannerisms (all in good fun, of course).

I can’t say that I know my friends like the back of my hand. I know them better. (I’ve never studied the back of my hand. The people I know are more interesting than my own limbs anyway.)

The other day I was telling my friend a story about an embarrassing experience I had that morning. When I revealed how I handled the situation, she immediately responded by saying, “you would.”

She was right. I so would.

The way I reacted in that situation was completely characteristic.

There’s something comforting about the phrase “you would.” Even if it’s subtly alluding to the fact that I embarrass myself on a regular basis, I like knowing that the people who know me, know this about me.

But she didn’t just know that I embarrass myself. She was familiar with my specific style.

Yes, I do have a customized style for embarrassing myself, and my friends can describe that style through giggles with pie charts, narratives and other data they’ve acquired over the years.

There’s also something comforting about being able to say, “you would,” to someone else. Knowing someone so well that you’ve analyzed their actions enough to be able to determine what decisions they “would” make.

I’ve heard that college is the time of life to learn about yourself. To figure out who you are. While that might be true, I have more fun using this time to get to know the people I care about. Maybe one day I’ll get to know the people on the Ballantine stairs. As soon as I catch my breath.


E-mail: jzaslow@indiana.edu