Hello Friends,
It's good to be posting again. Did you miss me? I'm sure you did. I did too.
I am in a very rare, unexpressive mood today, but oddly enough, I am also in the mood to write. Which, I imagine, will not be a mood will be finding myself in many times more. Nevertheless, it is very uncommon of me to be short-winded, so this post will be quite the black sheep. And actually, that's exactly what it's about.
So I saw this picture the other day on National Geographic that truly captured my attention: http://photography.nationalgeographic.com/photography/photo-of-the-day/black-sheep/
Now, my immediate reaction was not, "oh wow, what a disgustingly hideous sheep" or "gosh, I feel bad for that thing." No, it was way more, "wow, that's an awesome sheep."Literally, this was my thought.
Dozens of the same white sheep, nameless and indistinguishable from each other in every way.
And one single, solitary black sheep. So unique, so unmistakably different from the rest, that you couldn't lose track of him, even if you tried. And then I realized, this was the first picture I had actually seen of a black sheep.
And after staring intently at this picture for quite some time, all I could do was wonder how the term "black sheep" ever came to be a negative thing, and why the black sheep of our world are ostracized and not venerated.
And then, consequently, it made me recall all of the times I've used the term in a negative fashion, often times in description of someone I would consider a misfit, for one reason or another. Then, I tried to remember the all the times I've used it to describe someone positively...
There weren't any.
But that was all before I had actually seen with mine eyes, a picture of a black sheep. I hadn't yet had the privilege of gazing on the beautiful creature. Because I could already envision what a black sheep looked like, which was just that: a black sheep.
But what I had not yet ever seen or envisioned was what a black sheep looked like among white sheep. And once I did, it just made me realize something very clearly. And that is, that if we're not black sheep, then we're just plain sheep.
And while looking at that picture, I challenge you to ask yourself the same question I asked myself:
Which one would you rather be?
I think I know my answer.
Yours Truly,
Brandon
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
Monday, January 27, 2014
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'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.
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.
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:
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.
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
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
Night Owl
Hello again,
So it is currently -13 degrees where I am, and I have never appreciated modern-day heating systems so much. It's the kind of frigid, bitter cold that when you accidentally kick a piece of ice on the ground, the sound it makes is more like slate sliding on glass than anything else. It's the kind of cold that makes your 2 year old car sound like a 20 year old car, and starting it well in advance of going anywhere, a necessity.
It is also currently 3:30 in the morning and I am watching The Perks of Being a Wallflower, which is a phenomenal movie. The book, which came first, is also great. I know many tried-and-true POBAW (not sure if it's become popularly abbreviated into an acronym yet but whatever) fans would chastise me for saying this, but I can't decide which one I like more. The book is, well, the book, and it is truly great. There an abundance of things in it than I relate to veritably. And obviously, it provides more context too. But I much prefer how "Charlie," the main character, is portrayed in the movie. I don't know, he's just more of what you want him to be, so put it simply.
Emma Watson is in the movie as well, so that factors into things quite a bit. Maintaining my commitment to transparency, she is the only celebrity or famous person I have, and ever have had an obsession with. And when I say obsession, I don't mean "research everything about her and make collages of her face to put on my bedroom ceiling" obsessed. I mean more "extreme adoration and attraction" obsessed. But in any regard, she is incredible. If you don't agree, I command you to stop reading this instant!
Seriously though...stop right now.
In other news, a few nights ago I met a girl. We met at a party at one of my friend's place, where I struck up conversation with her a few times.
The first time I saw her I was on my way out to have a cigarette, and she was at the top of the stairs of my friend's lofted apartment. It was one of those parties where nobody is there, and then all of the sudden everyone is there. The stairs were heavily congested, dense with people, like some sort of "stair traffic," and she was noticeably overwhelmed.
By this point, I had consumed a respectable amount of alcohol (the party was endearingly coined, "the formal 40's," dictating that everyone come in dress attire and drink only 40's. Awesome, I know). Anyway, I was feeling pretty pot-valiant at the time, and for some reason, looking at her was making me smile. I'm not quite sure why though, other than possibly the volume of spirits I had consumed, but in any case, it was presumably pretty obvious.
"Hello there. My name is Brandon." I said, trying to smile like a normal person would when introducing themselves.
She looked surprised, but smiled back. "Hi there, I'm J." (for privacy's sake)
"You look a little overwhelmed." I said, still smiling at her. At this point, it was more of a smirk.
"Yeah," she seemed even more surprised that I would notice such a thing. "I am a little, actually. Just lots of people right now. I'll get over it." she stated plainly, moving the pretty brown hair in front on her cute, hypsterish glasses aside.
I wanted to respond with something clever, but I couldn't stop thinking about how pretty she was. She really was gorgeous. And I was stuck in a brief, intoxicated trance. All I could seem to say back was, "Well, you are terribly pretty J." For some reason it just felt right to say.
She blushed, smiling again. "Why thank you."
Chuckling, I placed my hand on her shoulder and said, "you're welcome." And with a now fruitcake-like smirk on, I waltzed down the stairs.
And that was that, and I had my cigarette.
Later on, I approached her again and we talked some more, reprising our conversation from earlier. I'll spare you the details, but frankly it was just a bunch of nominal small talk (which I hate, but can't figure out how to successfully avoid when talking to a girl for the first time). Eventually I handed her my phone, and told her to enter her number in it. She obliged, and I went on my merry way, saying goodbye to her and everyone else I knew at the party.
Before I left though, I told her that I wanted the chance to see her again, and would "be sad if I didn't." In my overly pensive, hyper-analytical way, I immediately questioned whether or not this was the right thing to say, or if maybe I should have used the word "disappointed" or "bummed," instead of "sad."
Maybe "sad" was too much!
At this point I was experiencing a miniature, inter-cerebral anxiety attack over the fact that I couldn't revise what I had said. It was out there in existence, for her brain and mine to remember as long as they so chose, and for her to interpret as she would.
I made a hasty mental note to temper my thoughts, and redirected my attention from the blurry, unfocused little space in front of her eyes that I had been staring at during my little episode, to her eyes themselves. In consolation, she assured me that we would do something as soon as she was able to.
I smiled (again), and said, "Wonderful. Goodbye for now then J."
We've been talking sporadically since then, and she's been seeming less and less interested in the idea of hanging out with each time we chat. Now, I want to clear the air. This isn't me lamenting. I don't get woeful that easily. But, it isn't the first time it's happened before. Actually, it's happened quite a bit recently - girls seeming greatly interested at first, then gradually (or abruptly) less so, until eventually I stop talking to them, or vice versa.
It's not this really discouraging, sad thing though, that's the thing. It's just confusing as hell (okay, maybe it's a little sad). But what's most bewildering is the fact that they're "interest," whether communicated or tacit, seems so incredibly genuine upon meeting them, that the idea of them not actually wanting to hang out, seriously seems ludicrous. And I don't say that arrogantly.
I feel like I'm a fairly good judge of sincerity, and it's normally pretty easy for me to sniff out insincerity. So for me to not sense any upon meeting them, and then have these things happen all the time where nothing materializes, is just confusing. And it all makes me very anxious and sometimes, even insecure, if I'm being honest. And naturally, of course it makes me question things. Were they completely lying about wanting to hang out? If so, who does that?? Were they just trying to be really nice, in not bluntly declining me in person? Or were they just interested in me at first, and now they think I'm boring or weird or whatever? Do I intimidate them?
What makes them so hesitant? What are their reasons for just discontinuing communication all of the sudden?
And is it a distinct choice, or do they just never really care?
I never have any clue as to what it is, nor any way of actually knowing, but I get incredibly anxious when I dwell on these things for too long, because they always end up with me just asking myself a bunch of questions that I can't answer, which seems to only exacerbate things. I'm not sure if anyone else thinks like this, only because I don't know anyone else that does, but what I do know is that I need to not let these type of things bother me so much. And maybe I need to stop trying to find someone so damn hard. Maybe I'm just not meant to be with anyone right now. Or maybe God wants me to experience something that I couldn't if I were with somebody. Maybe a relationship would just be a distraction from far more important things right now. I don't know, I'm just spit-balling.
But have you ever noticed (this is primarily intended for guys) that when you're not looking for anything at all, or you're already in a relationship, it's as if any and every girl you have ever, or would ever, take an interest in is practically busting down your front door to see you? And then, as soon as you're single or you start to show a reciprocal interest in them, they avoid you like the plague.
I'm being exaggerative obviously. But I think I know why this is. Romantics, you will know exactly what I'm talking about. Realists, probably not. I think, it's because sometimes we like the idea of something (or someone) more than the actual thing. The concept we create for something in our minds becomes more appealing than the real thing itself, and it becomes the measuring rod we use to judge the real thing by. And if a person (or, "the real thing") doesn't live up to this idealistic concept, or set of expectations we've created - and most of the time they don't - they become boringly dull, and eventually, we stop "wasting our time" with them. And it's strange, and I might never understand it, but I know I do it too.
And then I thought about all the girls I've shown interest in at first, then gradually just stopped talking to. There were a lot. And it made me feel terrible. Like some huge, hypocritical ass.
Then I started to wonder, what is it that makes me do that very same thing to girls, that they've done to me recently? Why do I stop talking to them? Because it's certainly not a choice. It's multiple. To not respond to this text, or lie about not being free that day. To not elaborate on this answer, or not respond truthfully to that question. Whatever it is, they're choices I make.
And whether conscious, or subconscious, they are untenable. I have no legitimate reason behind why I've stopped talking to certain girls in the past, other than maybe apathy, and I certainly wouldn't consider that a legitimate reason. Maybe I should be giving people the benefit of the doubt more often, before judging their reasons for doing things. Things that I've also done. Because then I'm just incriminating myself if I judge them, aren't I?
And it all makes me wonder, is there anything any of us can rightfully judge someone on that we haven't at some point been guilty of ourselves?
I guess what I'm trying to say is that no, there's not, and we never deserve to. Because we don't know what kind of place a person is in when they do something that hurts us. Maybe they too were hurting when they did it. Maybe the pain they're carrying now, they've been carrying for a while. Ever since they could remember. Maybe they're just always carrying it. And maybe, they've tried not letting it effect the way that they treat people, and nothing's seemed to work for them. And maybe if someone doesn't consciously choose to put an end to it, this "pain" will just keep being continually redirected to people that don't deserve it.
I certainly don't have all the answers, or even some of them. But what I do know, is that that's not cycle I want to help perpetuate...
Yours Truly,
Brandon
So it is currently -13 degrees where I am, and I have never appreciated modern-day heating systems so much. It's the kind of frigid, bitter cold that when you accidentally kick a piece of ice on the ground, the sound it makes is more like slate sliding on glass than anything else. It's the kind of cold that makes your 2 year old car sound like a 20 year old car, and starting it well in advance of going anywhere, a necessity.
It is also currently 3:30 in the morning and I am watching The Perks of Being a Wallflower, which is a phenomenal movie. The book, which came first, is also great. I know many tried-and-true POBAW (not sure if it's become popularly abbreviated into an acronym yet but whatever) fans would chastise me for saying this, but I can't decide which one I like more. The book is, well, the book, and it is truly great. There an abundance of things in it than I relate to veritably. And obviously, it provides more context too. But I much prefer how "Charlie," the main character, is portrayed in the movie. I don't know, he's just more of what you want him to be, so put it simply.
Emma Watson is in the movie as well, so that factors into things quite a bit. Maintaining my commitment to transparency, she is the only celebrity or famous person I have, and ever have had an obsession with. And when I say obsession, I don't mean "research everything about her and make collages of her face to put on my bedroom ceiling" obsessed. I mean more "extreme adoration and attraction" obsessed. But in any regard, she is incredible. If you don't agree, I command you to stop reading this instant!
Seriously though...stop right now.
The first time I saw her I was on my way out to have a cigarette, and she was at the top of the stairs of my friend's lofted apartment. It was one of those parties where nobody is there, and then all of the sudden everyone is there. The stairs were heavily congested, dense with people, like some sort of "stair traffic," and she was noticeably overwhelmed.
By this point, I had consumed a respectable amount of alcohol (the party was endearingly coined, "the formal 40's," dictating that everyone come in dress attire and drink only 40's. Awesome, I know). Anyway, I was feeling pretty pot-valiant at the time, and for some reason, looking at her was making me smile. I'm not quite sure why though, other than possibly the volume of spirits I had consumed, but in any case, it was presumably pretty obvious.
"Hello there. My name is Brandon." I said, trying to smile like a normal person would when introducing themselves.
She looked surprised, but smiled back. "Hi there, I'm J." (for privacy's sake)
"You look a little overwhelmed." I said, still smiling at her. At this point, it was more of a smirk.
"Yeah," she seemed even more surprised that I would notice such a thing. "I am a little, actually. Just lots of people right now. I'll get over it." she stated plainly, moving the pretty brown hair in front on her cute, hypsterish glasses aside.
I wanted to respond with something clever, but I couldn't stop thinking about how pretty she was. She really was gorgeous. And I was stuck in a brief, intoxicated trance. All I could seem to say back was, "Well, you are terribly pretty J." For some reason it just felt right to say.
She blushed, smiling again. "Why thank you."
Chuckling, I placed my hand on her shoulder and said, "you're welcome." And with a now fruitcake-like smirk on, I waltzed down the stairs.
And that was that, and I had my cigarette.
Later on, I approached her again and we talked some more, reprising our conversation from earlier. I'll spare you the details, but frankly it was just a bunch of nominal small talk (which I hate, but can't figure out how to successfully avoid when talking to a girl for the first time). Eventually I handed her my phone, and told her to enter her number in it. She obliged, and I went on my merry way, saying goodbye to her and everyone else I knew at the party.
Before I left though, I told her that I wanted the chance to see her again, and would "be sad if I didn't." In my overly pensive, hyper-analytical way, I immediately questioned whether or not this was the right thing to say, or if maybe I should have used the word "disappointed" or "bummed," instead of "sad."
Maybe "sad" was too much!
At this point I was experiencing a miniature, inter-cerebral anxiety attack over the fact that I couldn't revise what I had said. It was out there in existence, for her brain and mine to remember as long as they so chose, and for her to interpret as she would.
I made a hasty mental note to temper my thoughts, and redirected my attention from the blurry, unfocused little space in front of her eyes that I had been staring at during my little episode, to her eyes themselves. In consolation, she assured me that we would do something as soon as she was able to.
I smiled (again), and said, "Wonderful. Goodbye for now then J."
We've been talking sporadically since then, and she's been seeming less and less interested in the idea of hanging out with each time we chat. Now, I want to clear the air. This isn't me lamenting. I don't get woeful that easily. But, it isn't the first time it's happened before. Actually, it's happened quite a bit recently - girls seeming greatly interested at first, then gradually (or abruptly) less so, until eventually I stop talking to them, or vice versa.
It's not this really discouraging, sad thing though, that's the thing. It's just confusing as hell (okay, maybe it's a little sad). But what's most bewildering is the fact that they're "interest," whether communicated or tacit, seems so incredibly genuine upon meeting them, that the idea of them not actually wanting to hang out, seriously seems ludicrous. And I don't say that arrogantly.
I feel like I'm a fairly good judge of sincerity, and it's normally pretty easy for me to sniff out insincerity. So for me to not sense any upon meeting them, and then have these things happen all the time where nothing materializes, is just confusing. And it all makes me very anxious and sometimes, even insecure, if I'm being honest. And naturally, of course it makes me question things. Were they completely lying about wanting to hang out? If so, who does that?? Were they just trying to be really nice, in not bluntly declining me in person? Or were they just interested in me at first, and now they think I'm boring or weird or whatever? Do I intimidate them?
What makes them so hesitant? What are their reasons for just discontinuing communication all of the sudden?
And is it a distinct choice, or do they just never really care?
__________________________
I never have any clue as to what it is, nor any way of actually knowing, but I get incredibly anxious when I dwell on these things for too long, because they always end up with me just asking myself a bunch of questions that I can't answer, which seems to only exacerbate things. I'm not sure if anyone else thinks like this, only because I don't know anyone else that does, but what I do know is that I need to not let these type of things bother me so much. And maybe I need to stop trying to find someone so damn hard. Maybe I'm just not meant to be with anyone right now. Or maybe God wants me to experience something that I couldn't if I were with somebody. Maybe a relationship would just be a distraction from far more important things right now. I don't know, I'm just spit-balling.
But have you ever noticed (this is primarily intended for guys) that when you're not looking for anything at all, or you're already in a relationship, it's as if any and every girl you have ever, or would ever, take an interest in is practically busting down your front door to see you? And then, as soon as you're single or you start to show a reciprocal interest in them, they avoid you like the plague.
I'm being exaggerative obviously. But I think I know why this is. Romantics, you will know exactly what I'm talking about. Realists, probably not. I think, it's because sometimes we like the idea of something (or someone) more than the actual thing. The concept we create for something in our minds becomes more appealing than the real thing itself, and it becomes the measuring rod we use to judge the real thing by. And if a person (or, "the real thing") doesn't live up to this idealistic concept, or set of expectations we've created - and most of the time they don't - they become boringly dull, and eventually, we stop "wasting our time" with them. And it's strange, and I might never understand it, but I know I do it too.
And then I thought about all the girls I've shown interest in at first, then gradually just stopped talking to. There were a lot. And it made me feel terrible. Like some huge, hypocritical ass.
Then I started to wonder, what is it that makes me do that very same thing to girls, that they've done to me recently? Why do I stop talking to them? Because it's certainly not a choice. It's multiple. To not respond to this text, or lie about not being free that day. To not elaborate on this answer, or not respond truthfully to that question. Whatever it is, they're choices I make.
And whether conscious, or subconscious, they are untenable. I have no legitimate reason behind why I've stopped talking to certain girls in the past, other than maybe apathy, and I certainly wouldn't consider that a legitimate reason. Maybe I should be giving people the benefit of the doubt more often, before judging their reasons for doing things. Things that I've also done. Because then I'm just incriminating myself if I judge them, aren't I?
And it all makes me wonder, is there anything any of us can rightfully judge someone on that we haven't at some point been guilty of ourselves?
I guess what I'm trying to say is that no, there's not, and we never deserve to. Because we don't know what kind of place a person is in when they do something that hurts us. Maybe they too were hurting when they did it. Maybe the pain they're carrying now, they've been carrying for a while. Ever since they could remember. Maybe they're just always carrying it. And maybe, they've tried not letting it effect the way that they treat people, and nothing's seemed to work for them. And maybe if someone doesn't consciously choose to put an end to it, this "pain" will just keep being continually redirected to people that don't deserve it.
I certainly don't have all the answers, or even some of them. But what I do know, is that that's not cycle I want to help perpetuate...
Yours Truly,
Brandon
Saturday, January 4, 2014
Hello Blogosphere.
Hello all,
...All four of you probably reading this so far (hopefully not the case, but I deride myself). This is the inaugural first entry of my blog "Intrexoverted." I want to tell you why I named it that and why I've chosen to create it, but before I do, I'd like to say a few things up front.
We spend far too large a portion of our waking hours, myself greatly included, not being true to ourselves. Or perhaps just not being our "true selves." Whichever way you look at it, it's discouraging how many of us are guilty of it so often. However true that might be, I want this to be a place where it's not the case. I want what I write to be honest and sincere, and most of all, real. And I want that to be evident to whoever reads any of this. Because I spend far too much time not being true to myself. And quite honestly, I want to start changing that.
What I hope to achieve with this blog, in part, is to make the reader feel and know that there's someone out there (me) that's as weird as them, and that like them, understands what it means to not be sure of who you are. As I talk to more and more of my friends about this - having never previously shared any bit of it with them, or anything having to do with my anxiety problems for that matter - I have discovered, that much to my surprise, they, and presumably many others, are not unlike me. That they struggle with similar things as I do. That they too, find it hard not to stray from being themselves. And so I've concluded: maybe we're all secretly weird and hyper-aware, and veritably insecure, and not ourselves around many people, and we just never talk about it with anyone or let anyone see it. We don't embrace it. Heck, most of us don't even understand it.
I want to avoid sounding pretentious, so I won't make any claims that my blog will be abundantly helpful or inspiring or whatever (even though that would be awesome if it were). I just want it to be impactful, in some way. Any way. I want it to provoke something latent in the reader. A change in heart. Or maybe a change in perception; of yourself, of others, of anything. A discovery maybe. Something you didn't see before...whatever it is, I just want for it to be meaningful.
So enough prefacing. Earlier, I told you I would explain where the name comes from.
The name. The name "Intrexoverted" as one might intuit, is the clever integration of the words "introverted" and "extroverted" (tah-dahh). The idea came from my ongoing, painstakingly onerous struggle to determine which of the two I am more so. When people meet me, I imagine many of them consider me an extrovert. In fact, I know that most of them do. Some even give mention to it. I am loud, eccentric, and talkative. All the tell-tales. But, if they were to know my thoughts (which are many) and emotions (which are strong) at that very time, and the fact that maybe my heart was beating vigorously through my shirt, and that maybe I didn't even really want to meet them, they might very well consider me an introvert. But the good-intentioned extrovert in me wouldn't, and probably couldn't ever just up leave, in great part for fear of what they might think. God forbid anyone on this semi-sizable planet would, should, or could ever dislike me! (Spoiler Alert: hyper-awareness and the anxiety of not being well-liked both consistent themes throughout)
This conflict, or struggle to find out what my more dominant social tendencies are and how I'm wired is admittedly exhausting. And it's hard to just stop thinking about it sometimes. Inevitably, the constant thinking makes me wonder a number of different other things, unendingly really. Because one curiosity, once solved, always leads to a new one. And that new one is always more compelling, more frustratingly abstruse than the last. This blog will be comprised of those curiosities; of the constant thinking and wondering I do, of my stupid social anxiety, and why I can't seem to just ignore it better, and how I'd like to find out if anyone else thinks or wonders the same things that I do.
I've done plenty of research the last couple of years on anxiety disorders and their many variations. It hasn't helped a ton in the whole realm of dispelling it and everything. But discovering how common hyper-anxiety is within people (to an extent) gave me the solace necessary to admit to myself that I had it, after sort of denying the whole bit for so many years. Part of it was just not knowing what it was or what to call it though.
But whether diagnosed or not, those with high levels of anxiety tend to also have high propensities to think about and process things. But those with a strong propensity to think and process, normally don't feel toooo inclined to fraternize with their fellow man (or woman). I on the other hand, along with thinking and processing quite incessantly, also feel urged to verbalize these things and talk about them thoroughly with others. But deep down I know no one wants to listen to me think out loud (or I assume so, if I'm being fair to them), and so I frantically begin trying to filter the seemingly unimportant things out. Incidentally, this normally results in me conversationally sorting through a slew of disorganized, incomplete thoughts, that often render the person or people I'm talking to noticeably confused, made obvious by the expressions on their faces.
Anyway, this little "internal spat" thing continues on most of my waking life and it's hard for me to shut it off, let alone fully understand it. But if it's still ambiguous to you, give me some time to explain it. It's not entirely sensical to me either. I hope that in writing about it, and attempting to better understand it myself - or rather, attempting to understand myself better - you will also come to know and understand yourself better as well. And if you don't, I hope that you at least feel less alone than you might have felt before reading this.
My thoughts are random and whimsical and very quasi-A.D.D. at best, so please, bare with me. What I hope to show, and what I want my readers to see, whatever readers I do end up having, is the real "me." The me I disguise all too often. The me not many ever get the opportunity to see or know because I don't allow them to. The me I tuck away. Because I fear that if people were to know the authentic, true me - not some fine-tuned, disingenuous rendition of me - and not like what they saw, I wouldn't quite know what to do with myself.
I should also add that my entries will probably have no particular structure or cadence to them whatsoever. At least not intentionally. The things swirling around perpetually in my mind, and the worries or concerns I have, whether rational or not, are often times unrelated. So as a precursor, let me encourage you not to expect a beautifully coherent and fluid autobiography. I'm not that good. Plus that's not even what I'm shooting for here.
However, I do hope that some of the things I write about cause you to recognize a new beauty in its own right, or maybe one you hadn't noticed or thought about before. Because I think there's a lot of beauty in life that we all don't appreciate or talk about enough, and it's sad. And I don't care if that sounds cheesy. It's true.
And isn't it funny that in grade school they told us to "never start a sentence with "and," and how, ironically enough, it's used literarily by many authors quite often, and is also undeniably fun to use?? But I digress...
I will do my utter best to post entries with some consistency, but again, I stress the whole "no promises" caveat. I can be a bit poor with the whole consistency thing sometimes...
If I'm being honest.
Yours Truly,
Brandon
...All four of you probably reading this so far (hopefully not the case, but I deride myself). This is the inaugural first entry of my blog "Intrexoverted." I want to tell you why I named it that and why I've chosen to create it, but before I do, I'd like to say a few things up front.
We spend far too large a portion of our waking hours, myself greatly included, not being true to ourselves. Or perhaps just not being our "true selves." Whichever way you look at it, it's discouraging how many of us are guilty of it so often. However true that might be, I want this to be a place where it's not the case. I want what I write to be honest and sincere, and most of all, real. And I want that to be evident to whoever reads any of this. Because I spend far too much time not being true to myself. And quite honestly, I want to start changing that.
What I hope to achieve with this blog, in part, is to make the reader feel and know that there's someone out there (me) that's as weird as them, and that like them, understands what it means to not be sure of who you are. As I talk to more and more of my friends about this - having never previously shared any bit of it with them, or anything having to do with my anxiety problems for that matter - I have discovered, that much to my surprise, they, and presumably many others, are not unlike me. That they struggle with similar things as I do. That they too, find it hard not to stray from being themselves. And so I've concluded: maybe we're all secretly weird and hyper-aware, and veritably insecure, and not ourselves around many people, and we just never talk about it with anyone or let anyone see it. We don't embrace it. Heck, most of us don't even understand it.
I want to avoid sounding pretentious, so I won't make any claims that my blog will be abundantly helpful or inspiring or whatever (even though that would be awesome if it were). I just want it to be impactful, in some way. Any way. I want it to provoke something latent in the reader. A change in heart. Or maybe a change in perception; of yourself, of others, of anything. A discovery maybe. Something you didn't see before...whatever it is, I just want for it to be meaningful.
So enough prefacing. Earlier, I told you I would explain where the name comes from.
The name. The name "Intrexoverted" as one might intuit, is the clever integration of the words "introverted" and "extroverted" (tah-dahh). The idea came from my ongoing, painstakingly onerous struggle to determine which of the two I am more so. When people meet me, I imagine many of them consider me an extrovert. In fact, I know that most of them do. Some even give mention to it. I am loud, eccentric, and talkative. All the tell-tales. But, if they were to know my thoughts (which are many) and emotions (which are strong) at that very time, and the fact that maybe my heart was beating vigorously through my shirt, and that maybe I didn't even really want to meet them, they might very well consider me an introvert. But the good-intentioned extrovert in me wouldn't, and probably couldn't ever just up leave, in great part for fear of what they might think. God forbid anyone on this semi-sizable planet would, should, or could ever dislike me! (Spoiler Alert: hyper-awareness and the anxiety of not being well-liked both consistent themes throughout)
This conflict, or struggle to find out what my more dominant social tendencies are and how I'm wired is admittedly exhausting. And it's hard to just stop thinking about it sometimes. Inevitably, the constant thinking makes me wonder a number of different other things, unendingly really. Because one curiosity, once solved, always leads to a new one. And that new one is always more compelling, more frustratingly abstruse than the last. This blog will be comprised of those curiosities; of the constant thinking and wondering I do, of my stupid social anxiety, and why I can't seem to just ignore it better, and how I'd like to find out if anyone else thinks or wonders the same things that I do.
____________________
I've done plenty of research the last couple of years on anxiety disorders and their many variations. It hasn't helped a ton in the whole realm of dispelling it and everything. But discovering how common hyper-anxiety is within people (to an extent) gave me the solace necessary to admit to myself that I had it, after sort of denying the whole bit for so many years. Part of it was just not knowing what it was or what to call it though.
But whether diagnosed or not, those with high levels of anxiety tend to also have high propensities to think about and process things. But those with a strong propensity to think and process, normally don't feel toooo inclined to fraternize with their fellow man (or woman). I on the other hand, along with thinking and processing quite incessantly, also feel urged to verbalize these things and talk about them thoroughly with others. But deep down I know no one wants to listen to me think out loud (or I assume so, if I'm being fair to them), and so I frantically begin trying to filter the seemingly unimportant things out. Incidentally, this normally results in me conversationally sorting through a slew of disorganized, incomplete thoughts, that often render the person or people I'm talking to noticeably confused, made obvious by the expressions on their faces.
Anyway, this little "internal spat" thing continues on most of my waking life and it's hard for me to shut it off, let alone fully understand it. But if it's still ambiguous to you, give me some time to explain it. It's not entirely sensical to me either. I hope that in writing about it, and attempting to better understand it myself - or rather, attempting to understand myself better - you will also come to know and understand yourself better as well. And if you don't, I hope that you at least feel less alone than you might have felt before reading this.
My thoughts are random and whimsical and very quasi-A.D.D. at best, so please, bare with me. What I hope to show, and what I want my readers to see, whatever readers I do end up having, is the real "me." The me I disguise all too often. The me not many ever get the opportunity to see or know because I don't allow them to. The me I tuck away. Because I fear that if people were to know the authentic, true me - not some fine-tuned, disingenuous rendition of me - and not like what they saw, I wouldn't quite know what to do with myself.
I should also add that my entries will probably have no particular structure or cadence to them whatsoever. At least not intentionally. The things swirling around perpetually in my mind, and the worries or concerns I have, whether rational or not, are often times unrelated. So as a precursor, let me encourage you not to expect a beautifully coherent and fluid autobiography. I'm not that good. Plus that's not even what I'm shooting for here.
However, I do hope that some of the things I write about cause you to recognize a new beauty in its own right, or maybe one you hadn't noticed or thought about before. Because I think there's a lot of beauty in life that we all don't appreciate or talk about enough, and it's sad. And I don't care if that sounds cheesy. It's true.
And isn't it funny that in grade school they told us to "never start a sentence with "and," and how, ironically enough, it's used literarily by many authors quite often, and is also undeniably fun to use?? But I digress...
I will do my utter best to post entries with some consistency, but again, I stress the whole "no promises" caveat. I can be a bit poor with the whole consistency thing sometimes...
If I'm being honest.
Yours Truly,
Brandon
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