Ode to the Holiday Identity Crisis

Last March, I was on a train from Maastricht to Paris. My travelling companion and I could only procure tickets for separate cars. I willingly shelled out some extra monies so that I could sit in first class. My own plate of warm cookies? Yes, please! Free wifi? Don't mind if I do. About an hour into the trip, I was blissing. My iPod was probably playing a traveling tune to which I was happily bopping. This is when the steward approached me and started speaking before I could take out my ear buds. He was trying to hand something to me. I smiled in the goofy and awkward way I do when I'm trying to compensate for the fact that I've never felt comfortable being waited on. I laughed loudly, pulling out the ear buds, and said, again loudly, "Oh, no thanks!!!" I thought he was handing me a moist towelette, which was unnecessary since I think warm cookies call for finger-licking. He scowled in the way that a young Frenchman might. Without repeating himself, he simply handed me the paper that I would need upon my arrival to collect baggage, shot me one final grimace, and walked on.

I felt loud, silly, and stupid.

I've been thinking about this night-time train ride this week because I'm home with my family. When I'm with them, I feel loud, silly, and stupid. When with my friends, I think I'm generous of spirit. You have a different opinion than me? Cool, let's hear it; let's discuss it...quietly. But at home, I'm ungenerous. I'm right, and they're wrong. I am loud because, well, they're loud. I feel like the last four months of non-stop exchange of ideas in the academy (best if said with a British accent) is foresaken for arguments and Grand Ideological Battles on Nothing (GIBON). I feel like the worst version of myself here. I seem just as ridiculous as I did that night on the train. I'm not loud and I'm not stupid. But what do I do when I am those things? Does my family think of me in the same way that the steward did?

I remember once telling someone who felt unhappy that the true test of a good and happy person is if they can be good and happy in any situation. It's easy enough to be giving and gracious when you're comfortable, but what about when you're in a less-than-ideal situation? I've failed a test of my own design. I'm itching to be back with friends in New York and Las Vegas so I can "be myself." But am I really myself if I'm not that person everywhere? Shouldn't I be able to listen to my brothers talk about Tupac and protein shakes and boxing without losing my patience and becoming that loud, silly girl? I can only hope patience comes with age.

Excuse me, I'm going to go age.