During psychology classes (both in high school and in college), there was a section of cognitive psych that explored the ego and self-awareness, and there was always that foursquare chart that laid out personality traits known and unknown, public and private. I often think of that foursquare when I’m out people-watching.

The best manifestations are when people have a lot to do, or are fidgeting. Back before the “high-security crisis”, that place was the airport. At airports you would see some people in a big rush, others trying to get a cab or to a phone, still others bored senseless as they would wait for a layover flight, and many with pre-flight jitters. You can’t really go to the airport just to watch people anymore, though. You would be likely to get cavity-searched and charged with something obscure.

The public-known was usually in the person’s posture and eye-contact, as well as their mode of dress. The lady in the dark colored business attire with hard-set jaw and attaché was obviously busy, serious, and not there for fun, where the relaxed-looking couple in brightly-colored wind suits carrying athletic bags and easy smiles were likely embarking on a vacation getaway.

Sometimes there were some slight hints to both the private-known and private-unknown parts, especially if the onlooker is keen for details of the sort, The public-unknown area is often the most entertaining part of people-watching. Things that you are easily able to observe about someone’s personality that they are completely unaware of is the basis of quite a bit of comedy found in mass media, especially physical comedy.

The business-obsessed lady in the drab clothing has an unknown (to her) preference for the third seat from the aisle, and stands up when dialing her cell phone. The standing probably makes her feel in command of the call.

The other day I was reminded of the lectures on self-awareness after I had picked up the girls and we were on our way home. I was asking them a series of questions about how their day went down, and they started asking generalized questions about the nature of things. The two of them were on a tangent, making references to movies and potty humor, when A very seriously asked, “How big was my butt when I was a baby?”

I’m still wondering if eight is about the right age to be worried with such things. Before, the primary question of this sort was always how big they were when they were born. They love the part where I explain that at the time of their birth, each was able to take a nap in my hands. Now, we’ve moved from the body as a whole to an inquisition of particular parts. When do women start to obsess about the size of their posteriors? I replied, “It was very, very small. Like half of an orange.” The two of them giggled and went on to more one-liners having to do with flatulence as I started to think through the dynamics of what will soon become the “talk on body types”. It will probably be impending very soon. Then my attention got pulled back into the conversation as I became the door-answerer in an endless round of knock-knock involving the dreaded “Banana” response. Lately it cycles for around 15 times before the final “Orange” response appears.