BRITTICISMS

I don’t know who you are.

We talked about expectations and insular little worlds. I’m thinking about how it’s so easy to create an existence when you’re this age, and how, with youth, we can pretend that certain people, places, and realities don’t exist.

A girl at work said that my clothes shaped the first impression I gave other people, and this impression was one of confrontation and exclusivity. To dress casual is to be “like them.” A lack of thought equaled a similar train of thought. This plaid shirt means we can be friends. These skinny jeans mean we will get along. Everything else is not wrong, but foreign and complicated.

We assess others when we first meet them, and it is easier to pursue people who we think will be like us than to see something other than a plaid shirt or skinny jeans, and make an effort.

This line of thought reminds me of the function and history of Chicago as a city of neighborhoods. Others mention it with a sense of pride, but this city of mini cities segregates and isolates. It keeps us apart. It creates numerous worlds and numerous Chicagos. If you grow up here, you either love it or you hate it. There is no in between. Chicago is a polarity. And so, it becomes easier to gravitate toward what looks right upon first glance rather than to explore, question, and challenge our comfort zones.

I am no better than this and would never pretend to be. I moved into my apartment in my neighborhood because it was large and lovely, but also because there were people on the sidewalks who looked my age and maybe looked at the world in the same way that I did. I have made friends and acquaintances based on fashion, on music, on books, but who do I go to when I feel lost? I don’t know. Superficiality can only go so far.