SAA #11: My Shell

In the past few months, I have had more than one person tell me that they didn't realize I had a personality until they became friends with me on Facebook.

I'm not sure how to take a comment like that. It's like the time my choir director told me, "I can honestly say that our Christmas cantata would not have been the same without you." I mean, what does THAT mean, exactly?

Anyway, I know that people who say such things aren't trying to be rude. They're just being honest without really thinking...like when someone tells you, "You look tired." The fact is, I know that my offline presence is sometimes different than my online presence--especially for people who don't know me very well.

For years and years and years I struggled with the idea that there was something wrong with me. I mean, most people will tell you that they think it's preferable to be an extrovert than an introvert. Even if they don't tell you this, it's often evident from people's attitudes that they think it's better to be extroverted than introverted. But I'm an introvert. I'm Socially Awkward Girl, after all. That's not to say I don't love people. I've got a LOT of friends. I just need some time to get to know people before I "come out of my shell."

So whenever I am thrown into a new situation where I don't know people all that well, I come across as someone who has no personality whatsoever. I don't talk much. When I do talk, it's usually just to answer another person's question as succinctly as possible. I used to feel guilty about this, and once I even tried to do something about it. It was then that I realized that it is not a good idea to try to force myself out of my shell.

I need my shell. Actually, that's not entirely true. Other people need my shell. I have had a few friends who have tried to get me to come out of my shell before I was ready to come out of it. They didn't realize the truth that I have learned over the years.

You see, I have a theory that God knew exactly what He was doing when He gave me a shell. I do have a personality. I have a bizarre, unusual, sometimes scary personality. In fact, my personality is so strange that it comes with its own built in security device. You see, if I were to reveal my amazing and awkward weirdness to complete strangers, I would scare most of them away (that's what happened when I tried to force myself out of my shell once). God made my shell so that it chips away very, very gradually, just a little bit at a time. As I become more comfortable with people, little pieces of my odd personality appear. Over time, I come completely out of my shell and everyone realizes that I'm utterly bonkers, but at that point, it's okay. They had time to get used to my weirdness, and therefore they weren't overwhelmed by it.

You see, there's something people should know about me when they try to get me out of my shell. It takes me a while to come out of it, but once I am out THERE IS NO WAY TO GET ME BACK INSIDE. If you wish I'd come out of my shell, you'd better be careful for you wish for.

Back to the whole Facebook thing. I'm a better writer than a speaker. I make no excuse for that. It's how God made me. It's a lot easier for my quirkiness to come out when I'm updating my Facebook status, or when I'm making some random comment on a friend's wall. I think that my written insanity is a lot easier to take than my insanity in person--especially if you don't know me that well.

And if people see two different sides of me, the witty, quirky online me and the quiet, shy offline me, then that's okay, too. It just makes me seem mysterious. And socially awkward people don't get to feel mysterious that often. I mean, sometimes when I'm wearing my black trench coat, I start feeling mysterious. Then I start humming my own theme music and leaping around in time to it. And then I trip over my own feet...and poof! The mystery is gone.

...that's all I have to say about that.

SAA Ep. #10: Greetings on the Go

I recently got a new cell phone with one of those slide out mini qwerty (I love saying qwerty...I like taking every available opportunity to say the word qwerty) keyboards. I also finally joined the 21st century and got in on a texting plan, which has revolutionized my life. No more must I tell my friends (yes, even Socially Awkward Girl has friends...) not to text me because it costs extra money. I can now text to my heart's content and send my BFFs awkward messages about "lookn @ thongs @ store" when I really meant "lookn @ THINGS @ store" (for those who are texting impaired, that means "I am currently looking at things at the store for no apparent reason and decided to send you a text about it just because I can.")

I've only had the new (qwerty!) phone and text plan for less than a month, and already I've learned a few important things: 1) I really should turn my phone on silent when I don't want people to hear my silly "Monty Python" ringtone that loudly sounds every single time a person sends me a text. 2) Since I don't get much of a phone signal in my apartment, the most effective way to send a text from said apartment is to lift my phone over my head and carefully swing it back and forth whilst shouting "Whoo Whoo Whoo!" The shouting probably doesn't help, but it seems appropriate somehow. 3) I cannot walk and text (on my awesome qwerty keyboard) at the same time without endangering myself and others.

In fact, I've found that I have great difficulty walking and doing much of anything else. It seems my brain can only focus on one thing at a time. My brain can concentrate on moving my legs back and forth without causing them to trip over themselves (about 62% of the time...which is an improvement), but my brain can't handle any other activity at the same time.

I believe this is why I have such a hard time with greetings on the go. If you're from the South, you probably know what I'm talking about. I've heard that people up North just don't talk to other people...at least not to strangers. But down where I live, if you pass a stranger on the street, it's expected that you will at least acknowledge the other person's existence. Usually, this is done with a simple intercourse of phrases:

Person 1: "Hello. How are you?"
Person 2: "Well, hello to you as well. I am doing well. How are you?"
Person 1: "I am doing well, also. I just got a new phone with a qwerty keypad.
Person 2: (polite chuckle) "That is nice. Isn't this fine weather we are having?"
Person 1: "Yes. Yes it is. I hope it doesn't rain tomorrow."
Person 2: "Me too. I hope the remainder of your day is pleasant."
Person 1: "You too. Goodbye."
Person 2: "Bye, now."

Okay, so maybe most interactions are not that long, but most people (at least in the South) will at least say hi to another person they pass on the street.

However, my brain is only able to focus on walking. I find that when I pass people on the street, I try to say hi, but it doesn't work. I think the problem is, since my brain is working on keeping my legs moving, it doesn't have the capability to also control my speech. It tries to work out the phrasing for "Hello" and "How are you?" all at the same time. And if the other person speaks first and asks me how I am, then my brain is also trying to work out the phrase "I am fine." The end result is that I end up grunting out some kind of unintelligible combination of "Hello, how are you, I am fine." It usually sounds something like, "Hggggag." That's not a word. It doesn't even sound like a word. Qwerty, however, does sound like a word. An awesome, awesome word.

The funny thing is, even after hearing my nonsensical grunt, the other person always just keeps walking. It's probably because their brains are too busy trying to manipulate their legs that they don't have energy to even think about how ridiculous my response just sounded.

Sometimes strange things also happen when I come across people I know. For example, the other day I saw the pastor from my church in a store. I like my pastor, but I wouldn't say we're BFF qwerty texting buddies or anything. Plus, I'm used to seeing him at church while we're both surrounded by church people and doing church things. So we were both in an unfamiliar surrounding and therefore in a slightly socially awkward situation. What did we do? At the same exact time, in perfect unison, we both said, "Hi. How are you? I'm fine."

And we kept walking.

At least I didn't grunt some kind of strange unintelligible fake word at him.

Embarrassing Confession #4: RIBBONS!!!

I like ribbons. I like to wear them in my hair. A nice ribbon headband gives an outfit a bit of color and makes a great accessory. There's nothing embarrassing about that.

But the reason I like to wear ribbons in my hair is because Samwise Gamgee (not Sean Astin, but Sam Gamgee, mind you) implied that he liked it when Rosie Cotton wore ribbons in her hair. I want to be the kind of girl Samwise Gamgee would find attractive.

Oh right. He's not real.

Embarrassing Confession #3: Alien Pecans

I have a slight aversion to whole shelled pecans (pronounced puh-cahns). I can eat pecan pie or whatever. I just don't like whole shelled pecans.

The reason is because when I was a kid, whole shelled pecans kinda reminded me of E. T.'s head (same basic shape, color, and wrinkleness--combined with an overactive imagination), and I was one of those kids who was afraid of E. T.

Okay. So obviously I had a VERY active imagination.

I like E. T. now, but I still don't like eating whole shelled pecans. Everytime I try to bite into one, I can hear this gravelly voice saying, "I'll be right here."

Shudder.

Embarablast from the Past Episode #5: New Year's Resolutions

So, I'm not entirely sure why, but somehow or another, I completely missed out on the idea that people made New Year's Resolutions until I was in sixth grade (circa 1992). I'm not sure if my parents just never talked about them, or if I was too busy trying to figure out how to make my bangs floofy to really listen.

Incidentally, I never managed to have floofy bangs. The curling iron hated my hair (still does). No matter what I tried, my bangs would not do that completely unnatural floofifying. They remained straight and flat, making me look as though I did NOT have a dead chipmunk attached to my forehead. All the cool kids had floofy dead chipmunk bangs. I was SO uncool. I tried to swoop my bangs to the side so they looked all feathery and dead-birdy, but the poor attempt just served to accentuate the fact that my bangs were nonfloofy and nondeadchipmunkified. My jeans refused to stay tight-rolled, too. Man...

Anyway, I remember sitting in my sixth grade class, minding my own business, when the teacher asked us one of those questions she already knew the answer to. "So, what's the big tradition that EVERYONE celebrates EVERY New Year?"

Since I didn't have floofy bangs, I had to make up for it by being a know-it-all (I was the original Hermonie Granger, yo), so I thrust my hand in the air and shouted, "Oooh! Pick me!"

So the teacher picked me. There was only one tradition I ever remembered my family celebrating, and it had nothing to do with New Year's Resolutions. Or maybe it did, and I just never heard that part over the sound of my generic walkman blasting the New Kids on the Block I'd recorded from the radio because my parents wouldn't buy me their tape. Anyway, when the teacher called on me, I proudly stated, "On New Year's Day everyone eats black eyed peas." I said that because that's what my family did. And still does...for whatever reason.

At this point, I feel the need to mention to my younger readers that the musical group "Black Eyed Peas" had not been invented yet. Fergie was still going by Stacy Ferguson and had just finished her stint on KIDS Incorporated (dude, I wanted to be just like her--but her bangs were floofy, so alas, my dreams were shattered). So there was no confusion that I meant that I ate the musical group "Black Eyed Peas." Back to the story now.

Everyone in the classroom looked at me as though I'd just said that "Family Matters" WASN'T the greatest show ever. The teacher was too weirded out to try to smooth things over. She looked at me as if my sad dead-bird bangs had suddenly come to life, and she said, "Ummmmm...what?"

So then I had the realization that not everyone in the world ate black eyed peas for New Years, and to tell you the truth, it made me kind of mad. Because, honestly, I really don't like black eyed peas. I always secretly dreaded New Year's because mom would make me eat a whole bowl of black eyed peas for good luck. I never got good luck from a bowl of black eyed peas. All I got from black eyed peas was gas. My tastes have changed a little since 1992, but really, black eyed peas are still not my fave.

But sitting in that classroom, I realized I'd said something that other kids deemed weird, so I just kinda stammered a little while the teacher asked the rest of the class to tell her what EVERYONE (except for nondeadchipmunkbanged girls) did for new years. In unison, the whole class shouted, "WE MAKE NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTIONS, RUTH, YOU MORON."

And then everyone had to tell me what New Year's Resolutions were. And thus I was educated in the art of New Year's Resolutions.

My New Year's Resolutions for this year involve not eating black eyed peas (the food OR the musical group--I plan on eating chili mac instead--that's not a musical group too, is it?), never ever ever trying to deadchipmunkify my bangs again, and having many, many more socially awkward adventures to share with you.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!