I have been thinking a lot about identity lately. As I meet more people in Austin I try to remember what it is that I look for in the people who are close to me in life. My friends in Berkeley I had had for so long—some since middle and high school—that I couldn't remember what attracted me to them in the first place. My NEWER friends I met about 10-15 years ago. Starting all over again is daunting to say the least.I am a little bit of everything. Part hippie, part yuppie, part health freak, part junk food junkie. I like books and movies but know almost nothing about music. I am not especially hip but not a total nerd either. I feel like I am a middle person. Stuck in the middle of all the 'types'. And so, as I begin my quest for friendship in Central Texas, I ask myself who I am and what I have to offer others as well as what they see when they encounter me. Do I appear to others as I think I am inside? Or do they only see the surface? Does my unkempt, sweat pants wearing exterior turn them off? Do I seem pedestrian rather than exceptional? Am I even exceptional? Probably not. But I aspire to be. Five years ago I looked great. I was in amazing physical shape and I put energy into my appearance and my wardrobe. But I was lonely and uncertain of what my place in the world was. Now I am more sure of myself. I like who I am and I love my husband and the family we have created. But I am a mess on the exterior. I begin to wonder if it is possible to be happy with all of oneself at the same time. So it is an interesting time to present myself anew. Yesterday I went to a playgroup at someone's house and it was an enjoyable morning but I felt so out of my element. The rest of the company was fit and trim, well dressed and looked like something out of a UT sorority. I felt like an alien. And I had even made a semi effort to look decent. I had worn earrings for the first time in about a year for goodness sakes. But everyone else seemed to make it all work so effortlessly and meanwhile I spilled coffee on the hostesses white carpet and then procedded to be covered by about a liter of spit up from Sam. What a mess! And I of course couldn't keep my big mouth shut. Whenever I meet new people I can't seem to shut my gob as if I am saying "Look at me! Aren't I clever?" And all the women at the event want to talk about when to start feeding solids to their babies and all I want to talk about is the lastest edition of The New Yorker. This doesn't make me better or even more interesting. It just makes me lonely. Today I had a lovely afternoon with my new friend Anjalika. She is originally from Delhi and is a documentary filmmaker and she is smart and funny and has one of the most beautiful and charming little girls I know. I felt so at home with her, like an old wool sock that is warm and extremely comfortable. I feel so grateful for the people I have met in Austin that make me feel this way. And I look forward to buying them all New Yorker subscriptions, so I will have someone to talk to.