As it turns out, I'm quite a bit different from other people.
This isn't such a bad thing, in my opinion. Allow me to explain.
I was standing around after church today, waiting to be interviewed by my bishop. I assume most readers of this blog are either BYU students or familiar with how BYU operates (as most of you are either friends of mine or found this blog through the 100 Hour Board), but for those of you who are unaware as to such matters, each year every BYU student has to receive an ecclesiastical endorsement to prove that he or she is still following the BYU Honor Code. It's an exciting yearly tradition that generally takes me all of two minutes. My interviews usually go something like this:
BISHOP: Have you read the Honor Code?
OPTIMISTIC: Not recently, but I know what's in it.
BISHOP: Are you following it?
BISHOP: Are you sure?
BISHOP: Okay. Do you have any questions for me?
OPTIMISTIC: No, not particularly.
BISHOP: Okay. Thanks for coming.
OPTIMISTIC: Not a problem.
This is how most of my conversations with my bishop go, actually. He's an excellent man, it's just that we usually don't have very much to talk about.
At any rate, I figured it would be a while before I got in to my interview, as my bishop likes to talk an awful lot. There's just very little to talk about with me, so our interviews usually go very fast. As it turned out, I waited in the hall for close to forty minutes before I actually had my interview. In that time, he interviewed two people. I had the pleasure of waiting in the hall with a pair of glitter girls during that time. Predictably, they chatted merrily away about boys (more on my hatred for this particular term later) in their lives, strange places that they'd left objects in the past, and about bagels and which sorts they liked best. (I'm not even kidding about that last one.) I compared their conversation to the book that I was reading - Thomas Kuhn's The Structure of Scientific Revolutions - and realized just how different we really were. At several points during these girls' conversation, they looked over at me with a quizzical look, as if to say, "What on earth are you doing reading a book? Especially a book as weird as that?"
I am different than a lot of people. I enjoy reading this particular book. I like discussing historical theory with those who can appreciate it. I feel and act more "intellectual" (as my roommate sneeringly describes it) around many of my friends. I rather enjoy it. I think I enjoy it most precisely because it makes me different from many other people. I've always enjoyed defining myself as something "different." If all that does is free me from having to talk about boys and bagels, then I'm okay with that.