After 17 years on this planet, I have become comfortable with who I am as a person. It took me quite a while, and I admit that I'm a work in progress, but for the most part I feel I am fit for positive human interaction. Sometimes, though, I have off days. Today was one of them.

I accompanied my close female friend and one of her good friends (male) on a trip to their old school. Bad idea. Waves of faces, boisterous welcomes, past remembrances, and attempts to "catch-up" awaited them. Hurried introductions, curious glances, and unintentional exclusions filled my day. It took me quite a while to shatter my "shy" reputation at my high school, and residuals of it still remained even when I graduated. To be once again part of the background was disquieting.

The people I "met" were nice. They behaved toward me as was to be expected. I didn't call attention to myself. I dislike having to fight for the attention of others, and trying to do so in an unfamiliar setting would definitely be suicide for my ego. So I was quiet, and my silence was negatively noted by others.

This whole experience has worried me. What if my entire senior year was for naught? I believed I had left my wallflower origins behind with I-Poly. But my silence, and shyness, and complete discomfort around the hoardes of strangers (and even within our little group of four), makes me wonder.

Another worry: I pride myself on my open mind, and my ability to keep from forming pre-emptive opinions of people I don't know. But from the very first time I spoke to the "friend of friend," I got a few very stereotypical notions about him. I don't know where they came from. I hate assumptions like the ones I had coming from anyone, and this time they were coming from me.

I am going away to college in one week, and I will have to rebuild my reputation. First impressions count. I have to make sure that something like this doesn't happen again. People won't know that I'm having an "off day," they will think that is how I really am, whether it be shy and moody, or someone with ignorant, stereotypical ideas. I would never want to present myself in such a way, or be that way at all.

Or just a vague, thinly veiled attempt to find some common ground and understanding in a place hundreds of miles from home and all that we know?

Most likely the latter. But the situation could be far worse. It's amazing how comfortable I feel here. I assumed it would take me three weeks to a month to adjust, best case scenario. Instead, it is the fourth day, and I'm pretty satisfied with my role/social status here. I don't know very many people, but the ones I do know have a very good potential for friendship. And even if not, I'm in a place where academic weirdness is celebrated. I'm in my element, and I can't explain the great feeling I have within me as a result of this.

Wish me luck, my friends.

When I leave my room, I tend to go to my group of three acquaintances. Two live across the hall, one lives slightly further down. Through whatever intereference of timing or God, for the last couple days our timing has been such that as soon as I open my door to go out, at least one of them is outside, and from that point on, I am with people.

This is incredibly foreign to me. I have been mostly a solitary person for quite some time. Even when I became quite a bit more sociable at school, I still always had home as the place where I had my solitary time. Although I still sit alone at some of the required meetings with no one from my annex, when I'm in my room or the annex, I am rarely alone. For the moment, I am now. But mere moments ago, I was laughing my ass off about everything under the sun with a group of seven or eight people I've only known for a couple days.

I feel incredibly comfortable here. Amazingly so. I even have my (most-likely-no-chance-in-hell) first infactuation. The carefree one that's almost purely speculation, because acting on it at all would be missing the point entirely.

A large part of what makes me who I am, though, has always been the introspective time I spend by myself, writing, reading, listening to music, or just sitting quietly and thinking. I haven't had much of that time lately, if any at all. I'm having a great time, no moral dilemmas and an amazing dearth of uncomfortable moments. I can be myself here, and no one questions any aspects of my personality. But I do miss the one person who always made me think and gave me confidence when I realized I really was doing what was right, and best, for me.

How much alone time do I really need? Will the sporatic absences of my roommate give me enough time to fulfill the requirements of my "me time"? Only time will tell, I guess. I feel good, though, like I'm doing well for myself. No dramatic personality changes here.

Wish me luck, my friends.