Why else would updates be slowing down? I go back into obscurity the moment I hit "submit" on that postcard! These little cardboard squares have traveled farther than I have! They're more interesting than I am! WITHOUT THEM I AM NOTHI--
Ahem.
Anyway.
Recently, I saw some friends I don't see very often. We went to the greatest restaurant ever. Afterwards there was chilling, talking, merriment all around. Except for one guy. He seemed like he wasn't enjoying himself. I shrugged it off at the time--he's a genuinely nice guy, and what business was it of mine if he didn't feel talkative?
Later, though, I asked another attendee what was up, and the response baffled me:
"Oh, it's nothing, he just thinks you're kind of a jock."
What.
I mean, I was Most Improved Player for my soccer team. Twice. But given that through high school and college my hobbies included "IRC roleplaying games," "marathoning Japanese ninja cartoons," and "eating Breyer's Mint Chocolate Chip out of a tall cup because tall cups can fit more than bowls," I wouldn't say I have the makings of a varsity athlete. Still, it got me wondering: how much have I changed as a person in the past few years?
Sure, I'm much better at hiding my powerlevel. But I'm still occasionally subject to a sort of panicky paranoia in new social situations, a worry that any moment I'll slip up and they'll know I remember a Simpsons quote from 1995 and I can't remember the names they told me four minutes ago. If I don't have a wingman, or alcohol, or a justification (show, work, cousin's wedding) to be there, I for reals worry that I'll put both feet in my mouth and roll around like some foot-choking mouth-footer to everyone's horrified amusement.
But now, I can rise above that magma of insecurity and walk across the caldera of social terror, albeit slowly, on a swaying tightrope of lies. I wonder how much of that is due to the constant enforced mellow of your average Starbucks shift? Doesn't matter if fat tea refill lady called you a nazi, you must be friendly. Don't know what to say to the group of hipsters waiting for lattes by the bar? Better think of something, you're supposed to engage customers! Smile, Jim! You're a monkey, Jim!
I suppose in the end, it all boils down to perceptions being weird. Enough of the self-analysis. I promise next time I won't link so many videos.
Oh. That's step 2. There's a lot less empty space now!
I wish we took such a healthy attitude towards fireworks. One little toddler loses a hand and suddenly it's no fun for half the states in the union. Although I am proud to say my brother and his friends singlehandedly resurrected fireworks prohibition in Indiana by treating every Notre Dame game day like the fourth of July. Once we set off approximately 1,000 bottle rockets at once. Another time we detonated a mortar shell in a mailbox. The shockwave knocked all the beer bottles down!
Okay. One more video.
Ahem.
Anyway.
Recently, I saw some friends I don't see very often. We went to the greatest restaurant ever. Afterwards there was chilling, talking, merriment all around. Except for one guy. He seemed like he wasn't enjoying himself. I shrugged it off at the time--he's a genuinely nice guy, and what business was it of mine if he didn't feel talkative?
Later, though, I asked another attendee what was up, and the response baffled me:
"Oh, it's nothing, he just thinks you're kind of a jock."
What.
I mean, I was Most Improved Player for my soccer team. Twice. But given that through high school and college my hobbies included "IRC roleplaying games," "marathoning Japanese ninja cartoons," and "eating Breyer's Mint Chocolate Chip out of a tall cup because tall cups can fit more than bowls," I wouldn't say I have the makings of a varsity athlete. Still, it got me wondering: how much have I changed as a person in the past few years?
Sure, I'm much better at hiding my powerlevel. But I'm still occasionally subject to a sort of panicky paranoia in new social situations, a worry that any moment I'll slip up and they'll know I remember a Simpsons quote from 1995 and I can't remember the names they told me four minutes ago. If I don't have a wingman, or alcohol, or a justification (show, work, cousin's wedding) to be there, I for reals worry that I'll put both feet in my mouth and roll around like some foot-choking mouth-footer to everyone's horrified amusement.
But now, I can rise above that magma of insecurity and walk across the caldera of social terror, albeit slowly, on a swaying tightrope of lies. I wonder how much of that is due to the constant enforced mellow of your average Starbucks shift? Doesn't matter if fat tea refill lady called you a nazi, you must be friendly. Don't know what to say to the group of hipsters waiting for lattes by the bar? Better think of something, you're supposed to engage customers! Smile, Jim! You're a monkey, Jim!
I suppose in the end, it all boils down to perceptions being weird. Enough of the self-analysis. I promise next time I won't link so many videos.
Okay. One more video.
No comments:
Post a Comment