Ep. 1/ But Like, Who Are You?
Gyms, diners, and a lot of words
Gyms have never been my cup of tea, and I mean, I REALLY don't like them. It's not that I have anything inherently against fitness centers or the people who work out there. I just find it all too overwhelming. Most of the machines there daunt me because I have no idea what they are for or how they are used, and almost every person I see there has shoulders, or waistline, or dedication, or all of the above that are just so absolutely beautiful that it's low-key intimidating. However, a few days ago, I went to the mall with a friend and got so tired after our cute little shopping spree during which I bought, wait for it, nothing, that I ended up sleeping for 3 hours straight. And guess what? Turns out, my fear of being too unfit to window-shop outweighs my hatred for gyms and working out. So, yesterday, I begrudgingly decided to make my way downstairs to the gym in my apartment complex.
Obviously, the first step in working out is putting on the right music. So I put on my "Flower Crowns for Fearsome Things" playlist. Now, in my head, I wasn't jogging on a treadmill in my mint green sweatpants and a white crewneck; instead, I was strutting down my imaginary concert stage in a rose gold ruched sequin bodycon dress with a thin beige belt cinching my waist and nude heels. You see, creating impossibly fantastical scenarios in my brain while doing boring chores really works for me!
Anyway, as my Spotify playlist snaked its way to Call It What You Want by Taylor Swift, I was fully vibing, and while lip-syncing to
"All the liars are calling me one,
Nobody's heard from me for months..."
I suddenly realized that I like this song far too much for a person who talks so much that the only time people around me don't "hear from me" is when I stop to take a breath. Do you think I'm exaggerating? I genuinely talk so much that I vividly remember the last time I was at a loss for words.
It was a couple of weekends ago; I wasn't feeling too well. So, I decided to go to the breakfast diner that is right under my apartment building to grab some waffles and a chocolate shake to pick myself up. When I entered the elevator, there was a girl about my age. She had a very cute dog who was far too excited for me not to get a little scared. I think the girl could see the fear on my face because she tightened her grasp on the leash and immediately apologized for the dog. I explained that it wasn't the dog; it was me. I had always had an inexplicable fear of dogs. We started talking and soon realized that both of us were going to the same diner. In the span of what seemed like ten minutes, we'd already covered topics like our respective fantasy football league teams and how we were doing in our leagues, how much we liked the song "Soldier, Poet, King," how glad we were that athleisure wear is acceptable attire for things that aren't necessarily categorized as "athleisure" activities, and how a slice of any cheesecake from Cheesecake Factory is far too much for a single person to eat in one sitting. By the way, we still hadn't exchanged names. I knew her dog's name was May, but at this point, I had no idea what her name was. She suddenly looked at me intently and said, "I went to a house party a while back, and we played this game; it's very interesting, do you want to play?" "Sure, I'm game," I said. "Okay, so you have to introduce yourself, but you can't say what you do or where you work, what or where you've studied, or what your hobbies are. Cool? Okay, so, who are you?" I swear on my beating heart that I've never been as speechless as I was in that moment. I blinked at her, utterly stupefied by this question. It was as if someone had posed the question in Latin, and I was trying to discern what it could possibly mean. I mean, if you strip away what I do and what I have done, if I'm not a verb; then who am I?
I think she noticed I was perplexed. "For example," she said, "my name is Shiloh. I love driving on winding roads. This one time about 5 years ago, Ashton Kutcher stepped on my foot in a jewelry store in Georgia. I like the smell of scotch tape because it reminds me of Christmas and packing gifts for everyone in my family. I want to retire in a stone cottage somewhere in Scotland. I really want to visit Japan at least once in my lifetime. If I ever have a daughter, I want to name her Seraphina, and if I have a son, I'll name him Adonis. My alarm tone currently is Sweet Caroline. When I was in high school, I had the biggest crush on Conor McGregor. I love buying art supplies, even though I'm not a good artist. And I actually FOUND the winning Oreo during a promotion where if your package had an Oreo with the top cookie flipped over, you won $10,000. My brother then proceeded to eat it." "What?" I exclaimed! "Did you win the money?" "Well, yes," she said, "but it's very hard to make people believe it because my brother ate the proof." We both chuckled a little. "Now you go," she said, gesturing towards me. "Umm, I really don't know." "We're strangers, and we just had such a long and, might I say, interesting conversation. Most people aren't able to have such conversations with people they've known for decades. You are more self-aware than you are letting on," she quipped. "Ahh! I blame my family for providing me with a loving environment to grow up in," I said jokingly. "Well," I continued, "I'm Indrima, and my family tried its best to raise me as a spoiled brat." "Oh, come on, you can do better than that!" She said, rolling her eyes. "What are your beliefs, likes, dislikes, dreams. What makes you, you?" "I am Indrima, and I..." I paused for a second and stared at my chocolate shake that had arrived but was still waiting to be tasted or even touched. I moved my gaze onto her Greek omelet and attempted to somehow find myself in under three seconds. I was quick to realize that I was bound to fail in this endeavor, so I decided to go for something simpler; I decided I would start with my name. So I looked at her, inhaled, and started again, "I'm Indrima, and I... I really like the way my name sounds, and the way it's pronounced. I like that it means the Goddess who has the strength to satiate all your senses. I like how this diner always smells of warm chocolate and although I'm not the biggest fan of rain because it makes everything wet and inconvenient, I really do hope I get to dance in the rain someday. I truly love the way people's eyes sparkle when they talk about something they are genuinely excited and passionate about; even their voice sometimes jumps up an octave, ugh it's the cutest thing ever. I have no interest in Bitcoin, but if you're enthusiastic about it, I promise I'll shut up and have the best time listening to you. I believe that honesty without compassion is cruelty. I like books and movies, not only because they are entertaining, but also because they let me experience more than just my life story. I know that sounds trite, but hear me out. Like in one of my favorite movies of all time, Ten Things I Hate About You, there's this cinematic masterpiece of a scene where the female protagonist, Kat Stratford, looks at the male protagonist, Patrick Verona, and says, 'Your eyes have a little green in them.' I think this technically simple and sweet scene perfectly encapsulates what it's like when someone starts to fall for someone they've known for a while, particularly in an enemies-to-lovers situation. Now, I personally have never felt it, and I am pretty sure I never will because it's just not a part of my story, but isn't it so pretty to think that I have a semblance of this feeling, that I know what this feeling looks like.
You know what else I love? I love the way my hair feels when I let it loose, and it falls down to my waist. There's something so freeing and feminine about that. And I love the way a stroke of red on my lips makes my dark brown eyes pop.
The word "almost" makes me sad. I hate it in every language. To me, it somehow represents failed potential and our ability to be just not good enough. "Almost" makes me feel like the human race had come to the brink of something spectacular but fell short so many times that we had to fabricate a word for it. "
I hadn't really realized that I'd been going on and on without a hitch until I noticed her lips coyly curling into a smile that held in itself equal parts of adoration and amusement. "Are you happy now?" I said after a brief pause, feeling slightly stupid. "Doesn't this question feel like therapy you never knew you needed?" she said, pushing her hair behind her ears. I shook my head laughing in disbelief at the conversation I'd just had with a complete stranger.
Well, I don't know if this conversation was therapeutic or just two girls rambling on about whatever was coming to our minds, but one thing's for sure, life's super fun and extremely easy to romanticize when we're talking beyond the constraints of our jobs and duties. Our likes, dislikes, dreams, and the small moments that make us smile – these are the building blocks of our unique identities, the true essence of our beings. I think it's quite charming that as we navigate through the intricate dance of life everyone has an interesting tale waiting to be narrated.
So, dear reader, if this question leaves you as dumbstruck as it left me, then tell me, who are you when you are not an action word? Who are you when you are not defined by your actions or responsibilities. Take a minute, take a breath, introduce yourself. I promise I'll shut up and have the best time listening to you.
Until next time.
Xoxo
