Alright, boys and girls, today's topic is: blending.

Over dinner last night, my roommates and I were talking about touring college campuses as high school seniors, thinking we were big and bad and blending in. We all agreed that later on, when we were actually college students, we could always pick out the college seniors on tours. If the high school varsity jacket didn't give them away, the desperate attempt to look like they knew where they are going did.

So, what made us so sure at the time that we were blending in, and what really does make people appear to belong where they are?

(I would like to briefly stop and point out that it has always annoyed me that the English language does not have a good gender-neutral subject pronoun. Thank you. Carry on.)

I've been living in the city for over ten months now, and just like when I was a high school senior, I've been trying desperately to blend in ever since. This morning, I became convinced that I have succeeded.

I have approximately an eight-block walk from where I get off the el to my work building. During that walk this morning, I was stopped three times and asked where something was. Maybe I finally look like a city girl.

Or, maybe the tiny butterfly clips I put in my hair this morning made me look young and naive enough that people believed the city has not jaded me enough yet to make me unfriendly.

Either way, I was quite proud to have been asked for directions three times today. I was even prouder to have known where all three places of interest were. I am comforted to know that I blend.

But why is it that I wanted so badly to blend? Here's where you think I am going to get all philosophical, but really, I'm about to be a bit of a snot.

I want to blend and I want to be normal simply because I don't want to end up an annoying old lady that can't deal life's roadblocks. Let me give you a perfect example of what I mean.

There is an older woman that sits in the cubicle next to me at work. Simply for reference, we're going to call her.... Beatrice.

Beatrice apparently lost her wallet last night. How do I know this? Because I have overheard approximately ninety phone calls that she has made today.

Let me insert a comment here that assures the reading audience that I have lost my wallet before, and I completely understand that there is nothing worse than the sinking feeling I got in my stomach when I realized it was gone. I sympathize. I really do.

However, only the rest of my cubicle neighbors can truly understand how this illustrated Beatrice's inability to blend.

First she called to cancel her credit cards and debit cards. Completely understandable.

Then she called the DMV to see if they could tell her a "good time to go" to get a new driver's licence. People, is there EVER a good time to go to the DMV? And even if there is, can a person that works full time go during that time? Doubtful. Still, this phone call is only mildly annoying. I suppose it was worth a shot.

However, the next eight or so phone calls were ridiculous. Several were calls to her husband to loudly berate him for not taking care of anything and making her do it all. But the last couple pushed me over the edge.

She actually called to cancel.... HER JEWEL CARD.

For those of you not in the know, a Jewel Card is a little barcode you carry on your keychain. The cashiers scan it at the checkout of the grocery store, and you get to pay $1.29 for a loaf of bread instead of $1.49.

And she called to cancel it.

She kept the person at the Jewel on the phone for a good five minutes, just to make sure that the card could not be used for identity theft.

I know, I know, she'll be laughing someday when I don't cancel some random card and someone steals my identity.

But "Beatrice" has never, and will never, blend in. There's an imaginary line around her that no one in my office likes to cross.

So by all means, be your own person and don't feel you have to be just like everyone else. Have your own identity. Clearly my last post shows that there's at least one aspect of my personality that makes me weird.

But if you see me on the street someday, stop me and ask me for directions. It'll help to convince me that I am well-adjusted enough to blend in to my surroundings.

Because friends don't let friends become Beatrice.