oh, anthroPOLogy

So I swear I meet anthropologists everywhere I go.

Last night I went to UD's Main Street Journal poetry open mic.  The venue, Mojo Main, hosts a regular open mic from 9pm to 1am every Monday night, but this was a coffeeshop-style poetry open mic in a bar.  I dig.  And I could tell this is my zone because I felt no hesitation in sitting down at the table with the editors of the journal, introducing myself, and striking up a successful conversation.

...Why have I been freaking out about meeting people again?  Remind me.

The lineup, predictably, was full of music, but even a lot of the musicians showed a gift for lyrics.  One other poet did read, and he is a Word Whisperer -- really, I am blown away.  As I was leaving (around 11, when I usually like to go to bed) he called after me, "Hey, you coming to the release party on the 30th?  I'd like to see you there, I really like your stuff!"

Can I say it enough?  I love poetry.  And despite the amount of time I've spent complaining about the label, i love poets too.

Anyway, the PR person and the editor-in-chief were both anthro majors at UD.  I was pumped!  Because as any good anthro major knows, anthro majors all speak a certain language.  And today I noticed that a friend of the PR person posted the same link on her Facebook wall as Liz posted on mine, within an hour of each other last night.  It's about sex ed.  Meant to be?  You bet.

To understand the emphasis in the title, watch the following video.  The important part starts around the 2-minute mark.

Tonight I went back to Newark -- let's be honest, if all the action is in the college town then why should I be lame at home alone just because I'm not in college anymore?  I shouldn't.  UD's engineering sorority was hosting a fundraiser at Grotto Pizza on Main Street -- and I know because a girl from church is in this sorority and invited me to the event on Facebook.  (Social media does it again!)

I'd made plans to meet up with a girl I met at a networking event downtown about two months ago.  She's an AmeriCorps VISTA worker down in Dover -- and guess what she studied in college?  Duh: anthropology.  I'm telling you.

Believe it or not, there are popcorn bars outside of the Midwest!  I may have missed Froggy's, but I still get beer and popcorn.  But instead of Leinie's or South Shore I get Dogfish Head.  It's a fair trade.

Carly brought one of her VISTA coworkers along, and after pizza the three of us set off in search of another bar to hang in.  The cold suddenly set in like whoa, so we shivered our way up and down the main drag before settling on the Iron Hill Brewery.

And let me say, what a cool place.  Carly had met the owner at some event so she pointed him out when he appeared on the floor for a moment, and started telling us stories about him and the startup, which has now grown to nine or so sites, and pretty successful ones at that!  The restaurant was fitted with a row of huge brewing tanks behind glass that reminded me of KC's 75th Street Brewery, where I have never failed to meet interesting men.  All good things.

We took to people-watching: a group of professor-esque men that reminded Carly of a band of PhDs, just hovering by the hostess stand for a good 5 minutes; the Leader of the Loudmouths, a trio standing right behind us practically yelling their conversation; one of those unfortunate couples you see in public where she's more interested in him than he is in her, and he's mostly concerned with the game on the screen behind the bar.  Give it up, girlfriend, we said.

Anthropology.  The study of people.  I'm remembering my knack for this, my love of observation and research, my passion for communication.

This was significant: On Sunday at the Bishop's house, as I lamented my inability to navigate Wilmington's social scene, one of the sympathetic crowd nodded understandingly and uttered two simple words: "culture shock."  I had somehow managed to completely overlook this very basic fact, but now that they've been said everything looks different.  Everything is easier.  I am finding my voice at work -- at both jobs.  I can hold a mundane but afternoon-altering conversation with the redhead behind the counter at Walgreen's.  I can connect with other poets and offer to help build a writers' workshop at UD.  I can be the person, in a joint I've never visited, in a town I'm not yet familiar with, who table-bounces and brings people together.  Because that's my thing.

It's anthropology.

Next on the list: Convince Coffeeshopcrush to give me his take on Wilmo's best bars and hangouts.  It'll happen.  I can feel it.