As You Lose the Argument in a Cable Car

When I was three, I went to San Francisco with my grandfather. It was his way of distracting me from the jealousy of my newborn brother. Of course, the "world famous" cable car (if you ever visit me, I will force upon you this once-in-a-lifetime experience) was part of our day's itinerary. At one stop, a woman walked in and sat down next to me and my grandfather. She smiled then spoke, "Are you a boy or a girl?" For those of you questioning the intelligence of said woman, perhaps she was justified. I had recently gotten my head shaved (a cultural tradition), and my hair was in the short, "perfect buzz" stage. I looked at her, then blatantly ignoring my parents' don't speak to strangers rule, responded, "I'm a girl. But I have a brother at home who is a boy!"

So for those of you who have ever wondered, no, I have not always had long hair. I don't mean to go Freudian on you, but I blame this experience for my fear of haircuts. I'm a flake when it comes to haircuts. I often chicken out. I occasionally walk out out halfway. Despite my phobia, there is one aspect of this socially-constructed necessity I find to be especially worthwhile: self awareness. As you sit there, staring at yourself in a mirror, forbidden from moving your head, you see what other people see, and I mean for this to be the opposite of superficial. You abandon your own image of yourself and appreciate the reality. You notice the entity that thinks your thoughts and carries out your actions. It's unnerving, but educational.

One of my favorite experiments of human psychology is the self-recognition test. Experimenters applied red powder on children's noses, then showed them a mirror. Only starting around 15 months do children realize that the image they see in a mirror is actually a self-reflection (they would touch their own nose, rather than the nose in the mirror, to touch the powder). In my opinion, this is monumental -- a person, for the first time, realizing who he is and how he is presented to others. Fun fact, chimps are the only other species that succeed in this task. Believe me, I've tried for years with my dog.

Apparently, by age twelve, children have developed a self-concept. I'm no expert, but I think "working template" of a self-concept seems more believable. From what I've experienced, we don't even know or understand ourselves as young adults. In explaining his choice to study medicine, someone once told me, "This sounds more sad than it is, but I just never had a chance to see what else I was good at." When we stumble upon a strength, we tend to stick with it, maybe because it's comfortable, maybe because we are scared of failing. At the heart of the matter is the possibility that we don't, and may never, quite know ourselves. A big strength is knowing what is you and what isn't (and I mean this in terms of personality, not fashion). But we rarely give ourselves a chance to discover either.

Modern advertising is a great way of realizing how "not in control" we are. We get hooked or remember products without being able to explain why. There is something behind the scenes. Companies rewire our neural circuits.

Recently, my friend and I were discussing respective commitments about which we were nervous. Neither of us could quite understand our anxiety. Our emotions were beyond us. Finally, we abandoned the analysis and settled with an observation: "I need to force myself out of my comfort zone constantly," my friend said.

Sure, we're not supposed to talk to strangers. But what happens when we realize we are strangers to ourselves? Oh, and I chickened out of a haircut this morning.