Show And Tell
I feel like I'm wading through a torrent of waist-deep hell, and it's making my socks all squishy. With every morning i wake and am reminded with the perennial low-burning headache that taking 21 units this quarter was a bad idea. The terrible part is that though i reserve the right to bitch about it nonstop, I am happy I am doing it. I was lucky to make it to Davis as a freshman and i have a great deal of pride now boasting a 3.63 GPA. It has become to a large degree, my identity.
So what if i don't have much of a social life- I am on pace to receive High Honors upon graduation, and have a very good shot at receiving Highest High Honors if i work at it. And that's what I'm doing. I got in, and I am proving to myself that i belong here, regardless of how many typos i make in a LJ entry, or even if I don't pass the English comp exam tomorrow morning. I admit i am not the brightest guy around, in fact, lets be honest, I'm a bit of a ditz. But i am a damn good writer who earns everything he is given, and many things he is not.
Since I'm on the subject of writing, let me digress for one moment to say something that bothers the baJesus out of me. Yesterday at the Lit Mag we were discussing the kinds of writing we would be accepting for publication and one piece was heavily criticized for being 'too cute' and not saying anything. To that I say, "So what?" Why should it matter if fiction doesn't say anything about life or society or the war in Iraq? Who the hell decided that if it doesn't the writing isn't good? To be completely honest, my favorite writing is anything that has a good plot-based story and fleshy characters. I couldn't give any less of a rat's ass over whether or not a story has subtext or a web of metaphors. I read for the sole purpose of being entertained. That's why i don't like subtexty stuff; because i usually don't pick up on it, finish the story and think "what the hell just happened?" I don't want to think when i read. That's very arrogant, but i just don't. If the writer wants to tell me something i say just lay it out for me and don't make me jump though the hoops of having to figure it out myself.
Anyway, when i submit my story about three kids going on a imaginatave space adventure in their own back yard, the editing board is going to hand me my ass and ask "what was the point of this story? It seemed very cute."
And now let's get to me. A recent event which I am will not at this time disclose has got me thinking, yet again "what the hell is wrong with me?" The topic of which i speak this time is my good friend social anxiety. I don't know how but my father can strike up a conversation with any random stranger and talk to them as if they've known each other since high school. It is uncanny. I on the other hand, have one hell of a time talking to people i see on a semi regular basis. In the words of Moon Face Martin, "There's somethin wrong here."
Now take this anxiety one step farther. What happens when, god forbid, i decide i want to make a new friend. How do i go about it? What do i say? How do i sell myself to them to make them want to talk to me? It's funny, people that don't know me at all think i am really shy. Those that know me just a little think i am a huge narcissist, and the few who are really close to me know that while for the most part i am well adjusted, i've got a bit of a confidence problem.
Example: I know i am a cool person, or at least, an interesting person. I know this because my friends continue to talk to me every day. Why then does this not give me security with strangers? I blame the epilepsy, which is a lovely scapegoat, especially since it's been gone for four years now.
The problem is that i am much to introverted. I focus so much on myself, protecting my environment to make sure that i can function that don't feel comfortable when another person enters my little bubble. All of a sudden you can't focus on yourself, not if you want that person to stay in your bubble at least. So what do you do to accommodate another person, especially when you still haven't definitively figured out how to accommodate yourself?
The torrent fluctuates with swells and recessions. At its worst it makes me lose my balance, but i always keep my footing. I've not been swept away yet. And when the tide falls, in those brief, evanescent moments where i can really enjoy just being, when i can towel off my shins and make for higher ground, things are much better. I am so very aware that that was trying to be way more introspective and deep than it actually was, but who cares. This is my party, pay the door charge or give me back my beer.
SO that's my life right now. What's going on with yours?
So what if i don't have much of a social life- I am on pace to receive High Honors upon graduation, and have a very good shot at receiving Highest High Honors if i work at it. And that's what I'm doing. I got in, and I am proving to myself that i belong here, regardless of how many typos i make in a LJ entry, or even if I don't pass the English comp exam tomorrow morning. I admit i am not the brightest guy around, in fact, lets be honest, I'm a bit of a ditz. But i am a damn good writer who earns everything he is given, and many things he is not.
Since I'm on the subject of writing, let me digress for one moment to say something that bothers the baJesus out of me. Yesterday at the Lit Mag we were discussing the kinds of writing we would be accepting for publication and one piece was heavily criticized for being 'too cute' and not saying anything. To that I say, "So what?" Why should it matter if fiction doesn't say anything about life or society or the war in Iraq? Who the hell decided that if it doesn't the writing isn't good? To be completely honest, my favorite writing is anything that has a good plot-based story and fleshy characters. I couldn't give any less of a rat's ass over whether or not a story has subtext or a web of metaphors. I read for the sole purpose of being entertained. That's why i don't like subtexty stuff; because i usually don't pick up on it, finish the story and think "what the hell just happened?" I don't want to think when i read. That's very arrogant, but i just don't. If the writer wants to tell me something i say just lay it out for me and don't make me jump though the hoops of having to figure it out myself.
Anyway, when i submit my story about three kids going on a imaginatave space adventure in their own back yard, the editing board is going to hand me my ass and ask "what was the point of this story? It seemed very cute."
And now let's get to me. A recent event which I am will not at this time disclose has got me thinking, yet again "what the hell is wrong with me?" The topic of which i speak this time is my good friend social anxiety. I don't know how but my father can strike up a conversation with any random stranger and talk to them as if they've known each other since high school. It is uncanny. I on the other hand, have one hell of a time talking to people i see on a semi regular basis. In the words of Moon Face Martin, "There's somethin wrong here."
Now take this anxiety one step farther. What happens when, god forbid, i decide i want to make a new friend. How do i go about it? What do i say? How do i sell myself to them to make them want to talk to me? It's funny, people that don't know me at all think i am really shy. Those that know me just a little think i am a huge narcissist, and the few who are really close to me know that while for the most part i am well adjusted, i've got a bit of a confidence problem.
Example: I know i am a cool person, or at least, an interesting person. I know this because my friends continue to talk to me every day. Why then does this not give me security with strangers? I blame the epilepsy, which is a lovely scapegoat, especially since it's been gone for four years now.
The problem is that i am much to introverted. I focus so much on myself, protecting my environment to make sure that i can function that don't feel comfortable when another person enters my little bubble. All of a sudden you can't focus on yourself, not if you want that person to stay in your bubble at least. So what do you do to accommodate another person, especially when you still haven't definitively figured out how to accommodate yourself?
The torrent fluctuates with swells and recessions. At its worst it makes me lose my balance, but i always keep my footing. I've not been swept away yet. And when the tide falls, in those brief, evanescent moments where i can really enjoy just being, when i can towel off my shins and make for higher ground, things are much better. I am so very aware that that was trying to be way more introspective and deep than it actually was, but who cares. This is my party, pay the door charge or give me back my beer.
SO that's my life right now. What's going on with yours?