Rolex.  Mercedes.  Hamptons House.  Black Amex.

I’m sure you’ve heard of those status symbols — objects or possessions that elevate the owner to a certain social or economic status in the eyes of those who see it.  I don’t necessarily agree with the concept of status symbols, but for the purpose of this post, let’s say I did.

Because what I’d like to discuss has to do with the status symbols and indicators that we use every day to gauge how much we’d like to be friends (or more) with a person.

I’m going to use an example that concerns two good friends of mine, S and M (and no, that does not imply anything dirty!)

S and I met back in May at a mutual friend’s party.  When I found out she lived really close to my flat in Chicago, and me being new-ish to Chicago, I asked her if she’d want to do coffee/brunch/drinks sometime soon.  We exchanged numbers and made plans for that weekend.  We hung out one time and I showed up for a drink to celebrate her birthday in September.  That’s all.

Now, M and I have been friends since childhood.  We grew up in Montreal together, our families moved to the same town in Florida, we went to high school together, and so on.  M and I are good friends and speak on a semi-regular basis and I see him every time I go back to Florida, without fail.

Last time I was in Florida, M told me that he knew S.  How?  They were both counselors at the same summer camp three years ago.  They had gotten along beautifully and had really bonded over their few months of working together.

So now, my really good friend told my new friend, “hey, I know Melissa Malka!  I love Melissa Malka!” and told me the same thing about her.  Since that trip to Florida, which was over New Year’s Eve, S and I have hung out regularly for the last month and talk almost every day.

What changed?

M’s rave review of her had “elevated” her status in my mind.  If M, who I love, loved S, than by default, I should love her too.  So – we bridged the gap.  We made plans, we talked about M, we laughed about his silly antics, we had girl time and there no longer was the awkwardness of trying to figure out if we’d like each other because we kind of took a shortcut.

This isn’t uncommon.  We do it all the time when we trust our friends to set us up on blind dates.  An internal referral from someone who is a good employee will get you a job faster than anything else.  We trust our good friends’ opinions over our sort-of friends.  We have these so-to-speak statuses for most everyone we know and we act accordingly.  Most of us, or at least I, won’t approach someone and try to befriend them just because they have a Rolex or drive an import, but we will if our good friend tells us “we would most likely get along”.

A while back, I was discussing this with a friend of mine and he shared with me a way that almost quantified it.  He had terminology and really specific ways of defining who’s opinion means more and who you would find yourself trusting and so on.  I’m going to ask him if I can post about them on here.

In short though, what I am trying to say is to just pay attention.  Pay attention to your status, your social capital.  How many people trust your judgement about potential suitors for them?  Do your friends try to get to know your other friends?  And, think about the friends of yours you tend to gravitate towards for those things to.

More on this later.

In an interesting lecture I was listening to the other day, the presenter asked his group, “what makes this chair a chair?  What characteristics can I take away from this chair that will still allow it to be a chair?”  A few of the answers were standard and expected:  you could change the fabric of the seat or remove it entirely, you could change the colour, and so on.  After a few suggestions, he asked, “what if I removed one of the legs?  Or the back of the chair?  What would happen then?”  I couldn’t help but laugh when I heard one of the participants say, “you’d get a stool”.

The presenter was implying that by removing the leg and back from the chair, it would lose its structural identity.  For the purpose of this post, let’s define “structural characteristic” as one that if you were to take away, the item would no longer functional in its original role.  To maintain structural integrity, the item must possess all of its structural characteristics.   What I liked about the guy’s response, was how quickly and simply he had redefined the structural identity of this now amputated chair.

The same concept applies to human beings.  What makes a person a person?  Medical marvels have allowed us to live without a kidney, a lung, half of a liver, and with an artificial heart.  Women get hysterectomies all the time, losing the ability to fulfill their biological purpose — are they still “women”?  Mentioning this to a friend of mine brought up a discussion about Ayn Rand’s objectivism philosophy.  Because I haven’t read enough Ayn Rand, I think I read part of one of her books a very long time ago, I’ll decline to comment on that.

My main focus is to ask, more importantly, what makes you who you are?  What makes Melissa Malka, Melissa Malka?  Some could argue that its the ever-present cup of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee, the perpetual bed-head, and the lack of willingness to take no for an answer (yes, I do it, this was a joke).  Lately, I’ve reflected a lot on what characteristics about my life have helped to define, albeit temporarily, who I am.  Student, scientist, writer, aspiring M.D., girl, friend, daughter…

If I were to lose one of those characteristics, could I, much like the aforementioned chair be redefined and repackaged into an equally stylish and functional stool?  If I didn’t go to med school, would I still be Mel?  I know if I cut the hair off…I’ll lose the crazy woman bed-head aspect, so don’t worry, the mane stays. As for the other stuff, I’m quite sure I’ll be just swanky.

Also of interest:  Julien’s Blog

Last year, I was enrolled in a course that focused on the theological perspectives of different cultures.  In those courses, I like to consider myself momentarily interested — I read the material and think about it enough to pass the class, but I don’t love those courses.

However, one concept in particular sticks out to me and I find it even more appropriate during a time like today when a part of the world has just been hit with a natural disaster.

The concept was mentioned throughout our study of Native American religious beliefs (did you know that they do not have a word for religion, instead they just refer to it as a “way to live”) and to paraphrase, the woman interviewed said that in their culture, they were taught not to resent nature.  She discussed how even the thunderstorms that destroyed their teepees and scared their children were valued as much as the soft rains that made their food grow.

Granted, it’s easier to say that from the comforts of my apartment then if I were finding myself homeless now in Haiti, but, the idea doesn’t just apply to natural disasters — it applies to all disasters. Even the ones we create for ourselves.

At the end of the day, we can either focus on the disaster, we can resent the earth, the elements, or ourselves for having “gotten us into this mess” or we can turn our focus on resolution.