Unapologetic

Hello Friends,

I apologize for the gap of time since my last post. I suspect all of you were waiting eagerly, checking my page countless times a day in the hopes that a new post would appear. And alas, that moment has finally arrived. But to those imaginary people, I am deeply apologetic.

In the past few weeks a few things have happened:

- Money became even tighter...shocker.

- I began writing poetry.

- I met someone very great.

- I made numerous new discoveries about myself and about people.

Now, I won't go into great depth - actually, any depth - about the first one, because it's depressing and there's no need to. The second isn't terribly exciting yet, as I've only written a handful of poems thus far, none of them remarkably worth sharing, in my opinion. But it's a work in progress. The third is, well, exciting to say the very least, but not what I want to focus on in this post. Rather, I want to share with you the things I've discovered about myself and of others recently.

I'll share them in an anecdote:

I was attending the "mid-week" service my church has on Wednesday nights, and I wasn't in a "talk to lots of people" kind of mood. To give you some background, my church is not one you would think of when you hear the word. For lack of a more succinct description, it is what some would call a "mega-church." It is large in both size and number of members, and sort of resembles a really nice mall in some ways. That being said, this service, which is intended primarily for young people (college students and graduates, 20-somethings, young couples, etc.), is not poorly attended. I arrived slightly late, but located one of my friends, whom I sat with. Subsequent to the service, many of the younger people gather in a large room in the back of the auditorium to eat free food, and fraternize with each other. It's my church's way, I suspect, of promoting "organic community."

Now, I would consider this a whole lot more alluring of a post-service alternative, had it not been for my irrepressible fear of seeing there, several individuals who I absolutely did not want to see. These individuals are: 1.) Largely female  2.) Likely reciprocate my aversion to them, and  3.) Customarily attend this after-service "gathering" thing.

It is highly inconvenient for me (and possibly even poor future planning), that the vast majority of the last several females I've had any bit of relational exclusivity with, attend these midweek services regularly. But being the optimist that I am sometimes, I figure that on the other hand, this greatly reduces my chances of running into any of them elsewhere. And while it doesn't plague me, the idea of running into one of them unexpectedly, certainly does not excite me.

But back my story. 

I was inordinately hungry, having not eaten anything that day, and rather than vigilantly scanning the room for any of my female arch-nemeses, as I typically would, I made a bee line straight for the free Lou Malnotti's (best pizza in the world by the way), ignoring any and all temptations to gratuitously glance around the room. Aside from just women I have an awkward history with, there are an abundance of other people who regularly attend, that frequently approach me to talk about the same things every time (work, women, and "what I've been up to"), who I very much ordinarily prefer not to talk to. Much to my elation, my friend came and stood in line with me while I was waiting. "SWEET RELIEF!" I thought, "Someone to talk to that I like." I retrieved my delicious free dinner and waited for my friend. Maybe if I ate obnoxiously, people that I "knew" - but really, hardly knew - would be less inclined to talk to me.

I just kept thinking about how I wished that there was a way to completely prevent the people you don't know or like from talking to you, leaving only those you truly knew and liked to interact with. I realized the idiocy of this thought immediately though, and that if it were made a reality, it'd be highly improbable that I ever made any new friends. And if it had been made a reality in past, I never would have met some of the friends I met when I was younger, that I've come to know and love so much. But I am different now from who I once was. We all are.

________________________

All this to say, what I discovered about myself that night in processing everything, is that I gravitate towards people and things I know well, and actively avoid those I do not. This may seem like a very normal proclivity to have, but then, why are people - more specifically introverts - so frequently criticized for displaying it? Often times, when I avoid social interaction with someone, it isn't because I dislike the person in any significant way. It is because I dislike the conversations I have with them. They are awkward and they are disjunct, and they are filled with horrible small-talk. The only two types of people I instinctively avoid are: people I dislike for a very legitimate reason, or people I can't have enjoyable or semi-substantive conversation with. If it is someone I have never met before though, and have no knowledge of, I am almost always open to striking up conversation. Just so long as we talk about real things.

Now, the irony of this whole thing is that I am very outgoing, and I am very social. Really. And believe me, the paradox-like nature of all these things does not make much ostensible sense to me either. But if I've tried having a real conversation with you - one not made up entirely of petty small-talk - and you have shown that you are either incapable of having one, or are extremely awkward in your attempts to, I will very likely never pursue a conversation with you on my own accord, ever again. It is peculiar to say the least, even to me, but then it makes perfect sense...

It is the natural, subconscious assessment of a person that my brain makes after having had so many interactions with them: "If I haven't remotely enjoyed any of the 3 conversations I've had with this person thus far, then what reason do I have to pursue a 4th?" The conclusion that my brain makes far more often than not, is that there are none. So yes, consequently, when I see people I know that fall under this description, I avoid them like a SWAT Team member avoids being seen during a stealth mission.

And so, in ruminating it all, I've come to realize this: that there is nothing to be shameful or guilty of in choosing not to talk to someone, or even, choosing to avoid them. If you choose to only talk to certain people - people you know you enjoy talking to, people who actually care about what you have to say, and will respond with a real thought of their own - then who's to fault you for that? And why should we be so discontent with ourselves (I speak for myself mainly) for having such a logical tendency? The answer is, we shouldn't.

But there is something within us, some manipulative force, maybe our perception of what others want or expect out of us, that coerces us into shaming ourselves for the things we do, or are, that aren't in complete alignment with the rest of the world. And I am guilty of succumbing to it all too often. It is what hinders us from being content with ourselves; like there's this grander, better thing that we could be if we just tried hard enough. But in my eyes, there is no "better thing" to become. And there is no effort required. At least not in the sense that our society demands it. Because what they tell you, what the world implores you to be more like, is far less remarkable than you.

No, there is nothing better for us to strive to be, than a happier, more loving, more considerate, more life-seizing version of our own true selves. And you can be those things without being them to everyone. I would argue, that no one can authentically be those things to everyone they come in contact with.

Because if we spend too much effort trying to be everything to everyone all the time, we can never be our best selves - our true selves - to those that truly matter to us. John Green, an author who's been instrumental in changing the way I see myself, among other things, puts it this way:

    "When you acknowledge that there is nothing repulsive or unforgivable or shameful about yourself, it becomes easier to be that authentic person and feel like you're living a less performed life."

And to many of us I'm sure, myself included, it all feels like this never-ending performance. Life, I mean. We have this notion that in order to be truly accepted, we must be who we think the world would want us to be: someone we're not. It is one that our vapid, image-propagating culture has instilled in us at a young age, despite our parents best efforts to combat it with affirmation. So we die to conform, to be alike, to be accepted, and in so doing, we forget who we are. We forget why we're "us," what makes us different.

Because different isn't what people want, right? Wrong. If you answered incorrectly, well then, you're probably just surrounded by some really dumb people...
In which case, I suggest you "un-surround" yourself with them, and start surrounding yourself with people that don't need pleasing. Ones that like actually like you.

So, my fellow introvertedly-tendential friends, I commission you now. Go. Go out into the world and avoid those who you do not enjoy so much - for one reason or another - and cherish those you do. And as you do, do it unapologetically.

Yours Truly,

Brandon