Chameleons

I was having an interesting discussion w/ a guy at work who is probably going to be my next roommate when I move into the city. Bad financial decision, I know, but when am I ever going to be able to live in a city like SF again? Anyways, this guy says "Well, I just act like that around him. I'm a chameleon."

Are we all chameleons? I know certain parts of me come out around different people, and that the people I like the most are the ones that I can relax and "be myself" with. But that makes me wonder if I really am "myself" most of the time - since most of my day isn't spent relaxed because of work/errands/strangers. It was certainly an interesting moment when J and I first started dating where he said "I'm kind of a chameleon" and I said "Holy shit! Me too!" It was a fun little dance trying to define our relationship, because we kept changing and adapting to each other. Which happens w/ friendships too: when Anna wrote about dancing, it got me started looking up Alvin Ailey and trying to get tickets to a show. When I'm with work people, I talk games and consoles. And when I'm with Ali, we only talk about food and dogs.

Eventually I think this adaptability goes away. I definitely used to feel like I could talk to anyone and get along with them. I haven't been stretching that capability, so I'm sure it's shrinking, but I feel less inclined to talk to people I'm not interested in, meaning less extended effort to get to know others outside my ken. I don't like it, but I don't know how else to keep from being overwhelmed by the sheer mass of humanity. There's only so many things you can pursue, whether inside or outside of yourself.

It's interesting, this process of finding out what makes you happy. Interesting because I always assumed that you just knew, instead of gathering, processing, and deciding one way or the other whether it's worth your time. It'll be interesting to see three chameleons together in one room. Which color will they end up? Most likely: three slugs watching a tv. But hopefully not.