I don't know what role I play in my social group. My social group consists of my close friends, my less-close friends, my run-into-all-the-time acquaintances, my classmates and my family.
I have no experience playing a defined role. Growing up, I was technically the oldest child, but when there's only two minutes separating me from the "middle child," I have trouble knowing who I should be. Despite the fine line between being a twin and an older sister, I always thought I was more responsible than my younger brother, and yes, even the sister two minutes my junior. I was more apt to do what my parents told us to do while my brother and sister lounged on the couch and watched "South Park," high fiving over my apparently brown-nosing obeisance.
Of course, any finely drawn line is blurred every once in a while. I get very angry in public sometimes. This anger generally arises after I stub my toe, misplace my wallet or send a blank text while walking into a bench and re-stubbing my toe. Having no shame or common courtesy, I shout profanities and glare at anyone who dares to raise an eyebrow at my outburst. During these situations, my sister pulls the calm and collected eldest sibling card as she pulls me aside, finds my wallet, tells me to save "the F word" for more serious injuries and re-sends my text. Just when I thought I was the responsible one, my role is filled by someone younger than I am. And I'm back to square one.
I always thought I was the "smart one" in my group of friends. Don't get me wrong - all my friends are highly intelligent. But somehow I always had at least one standardized test score to hold over their heads, starting in fifth grade, peaking in eighth grade and settling nicely after the SATs. Riding high on this wave of small numbers printed in the corner of a page, I decided I could be the intellectual of my group. I had a role and I was sticking with it.
Near the end of my senior year in high school, my mother let slip that my 13-year-old brother has a higher IQ than either me or my sister. My younger brother was always going to be smarter than I was. And at 13, he had been to detention far more than I ever had, considering I'd never been to detention. He was fun-loving and smart and he won that role hands down. I was simply left with a lower IQ.
For the past year, I've thought that I could cook. Two summers ago, I picked up a recipe that read: preparation time, 20 minutes. Forty minutes later, covered in chopped vegetables and salt and spices that were not called for, I had a small pan of this vegetable stuff that tasted so good I knew only a chef could have been capable of its preparation. So I called myself a chef.
I have scars from that summer of cooking: teardrop-shaped scars on my arm from fried green tomatoes, a sliver across my left middle finger from a knife, a huge scar on my ego from the countless times my mother yelled, "Clean up your mess and what the hell are you doing in there!?" I was defining my new role! Didn't she know that? I was negating the feeble history of roles I'd tried to play: I was the irresponsibly messy older child, I was the inventive creator who never followed the rules, I was the smart girl who botched more recipes than she successfully mastered. I had a role, and once I came to college, I wrote about it for two semesters.
I told everyone I saw that I was a food columnist. Before I could shrug and walk away with the victory of my definite role in society, my audience insisted I continue. "What do you write about? What do you cook?" they said. I like to cook this fancy French dish and now I'm cooking this other fancy dish that requires a food processor you have one of those don't you? "Of course I don't have a food processor," they said. "What have I ever made that needed to be pureed?"
So I'm not a chef. I just like to write about food. I like to write about myself and I like to write about myself failing and succeeding. And because I'm a writer I'm allowed to quote Walt Whitman. "I am large, I contain multitudes." I play so many roles I cannot always keep them straight. I think, though, that I'll always be able to write about them.
Connelly's column runs Thursdays. She can be reached at c.hardaway@cavalierdaily.com.
Read More
A summer in STEM: Students take on the tech industry
By Charley Thomas | 12 hours agoPeople often say technology is the future, but for some University students, it is also the present
‘I Run With Jim’ T-shirt campaign raises over $8,000 for local charities
By Xander Tilock | 2 days agoThe success of the project, and its impact, are a testament to Ryan’s reputation in the community.
10 things I would do differently this syllabus week
By Anna Stamey | 3 days agoIf I could redo my first week at the University, I’d make a few changes — ones that could save me my time, money and sanity.
