Social Awkwardness Revisited: New Year's Resolutions

I posted this last New Year's Day.  I still hate black eyed peas.  Not the band, the food.



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!

Embarrablast from the Past Ep. # 8: Public Displays of Humiliation

Today at work there was this cool tweenage girl who was telling me she wanted to audition for a solo in her church's kid's musical. She was singing the song, and she did have a pretty and sweet voice. As a person who likes 1) kids 2) singing 3) church and 4) kids singing at church, I totally encouraged her to try out for that solo. Her words back to me were, "I want to, but I'm afraid I'm going to get stage fright and won't be able to do it."

And I couldn't think of anything to say in reply to that, because I had EXTREME stage fright until I was 18 years old. I'm not sure what the change was, but all through high school, I was basically unable to sing solos in front of people. Well, okay, technically that's NOT true. I sang a few solos in high school chorus and church, but for some reason if I ever actually held a microphone in front of my face, I'd choke. I couldn't sing. I couldn't even breathe. I used to think that I wanted to go into musical theater--I'm not sure how I thought I could handle it. I know I couldn't handle it now...but I digress.

This tweenage girl's fear reminded me of the most embarrassing displays of public humiliation I'll probably ever have (I hope). My sister was in Junior Miss. What is Junior Miss? It's a program for girls between their junior and senior years of high school. It's not a pageant (or that's what they say--I beg to differ). It's an educational scholarship program...where girls prance around on a stage and do stuff they do in...pageants. My sister did a great job (she won the talent portion and the portion entitled "presence and composure"...which was where the girls wore fancy dresses and pranced around and answered current event questions...like in a pageant...though this was not a pageant).

Well, when my turn came, my mom and sister encouraged me to participate, too. And to be honest, I kind of wanted to participate. I wanted to be like my sister, who did such an amazing job. If I had it to do over again, I wouldn't have done it. Why? Because that sort of thing is just totally NOT for me. Overall, it wasn't a bad experience. I got to know some of the other girls and they were really great. But pageants (or NOT pageants...however you wish to see it) are just not my style at all.

Anyway, the night of the pageant was a disaster for me. A disaster. Completely. It was videotaped and stuff, but I never even watched it. Ever. I just never ever want to see the disaster of that night again. Everybody I knew and a gazillion people I didn't know were there to witness the greatest public display of humiliation I've ever had or will ever have.

There was this opening dance routine that wasn't judged, but it was our introduction to the audience and to the judges. I was participant #3, which meant I was at the front of the stage next to participants #1 and #2. Everyone else was behind me. So the curtains opened, the music started. I smiled and started dancing and put my heart into that routine. I didn't pay attention to contestants--oops, I mean "participants"--#1 and #2 beside me. I was focused on that audience and on those judges. And I was nailing that routine, I tell you. I was perfectly on beat.

Well, we did a turn at one point, and I realized that everyone else was doing a completely different move than I was. They were several beats ahead of me in the routine. I knew I had it right, but the thing was, everyone else had it wrong. I promise you. I was right, but the girls were following another participant who had started on the wrong count (she admited her mistake and laughed about it after the fact, but I didn't think it was funny--because I was the one who paid for that mistake). I would have followed the others, but I hadn't been watching them. I had been watching the crowd...like I was supposed to. So from the start of the whole thing, I looked ridiculous to the audience and the judges.

Then came the athletic portion, which didn't go too badly. Except, dude, athletics and I were never friends. So when it came time for me to do my "solo" athletics, I did some kind of stupid thing just to get it over with. In other words, it was again obvious that I sucked.

The talent portion was the worst. In retrospect, I shouldn't have played the guitar at all. I should have chosen a much better song than the one I chose--one that showed that I can sing like Christine Daae (for realz). But you know, it wouldn't have mattered. As soon as that curtain opened, I froze. I croaked out my song. Literally. It was dreadful. As soon as the curtains closed, I burst into tears.

And when the time came to prance around in a pretty dress and answer a question, I froze again. I don't remember the question. I don't remember my answer. I had one planned. When I started talking, I forgot what I was going to say and ended up just thanking the judges and going back to my spot, where I basked in utter humiliation. Maybe this is shallow of me, but current events were never my thing. I should have just said something about world peace and gotten it over with.

So yes, the entire night was a lesson to me to not try to be something I'm not. I'm not a pageant girl. I've got a lot of other talents that are much better suited to a socially awkward girl like me.

The winner that night had the right attitude, which I believe is one of the reasons why she won. It's perhaps some simple theology, but she kept saying that she could do all things through Christ (Philippians 4:13). I was focused on my own glory, quite honestly. I wanted to be noticed.

And I was.

For the wrong reasons.

There's a reason I don't sing a lot of solos in church these days, and it's not because I still get stage fright. It's not because I think I'm going to suffer public humiliation (I'm pretty much immune to that now). It's because I don't want to run the risk of focusing more on my performance than God's glory. When I'm asked to sing, I do. And I'm not completely opposed to volunteering. I am just very cautious, because I know I'm vain. And my church just so happens to have a plethora (I love that word) of amazing vocalists. I'm happy to let them shine, because they probably have the right attitude.

By the way, I did have a chance to redeem myself after the whole "Junior Miss Fiasco." When my high school graduation came around, we had a "Class Night" which is a night that showcases the graduating class. I sang for that. Now, the song choice is slightly embarrassing. I sang "Go the Distance" by Michael Bolton. The song that's in the Disney Hercules movie. It was actually a new movie when I was graduating high school, okay? And I still love the song. So there.

When I auditioned, I choked. But if you audition, they pretty much let you do whatever anyway. I sang it for the first rehearsal, and the stage fright was a little less. The second rehearsal, it was almost gone.

The night of Class Night, I nailed that song.

You'd better believe I watched THAT video again.

Embarablast From the Past #1: I Fell For Him...Literally

So when I was 18 years old, I had this MAJOR crush on this guy. I went to a Christian college where we had assemblies twice a week called "Convocations." One day, this famous professional athelete of some sort came to speak, and so the entire gymnasium was PACKED. There was no room left on the bleachers, so I had to sit on the floor.

I didn't mind so much, because the man of my 18-yr-old dreams was sitting on the floor nearby. Well, the speaker started speaking, so I tried to listen. He spoke for a very long time. I was only somewhat aware of the fact that both of my legs were falling asleep.

When the man finally got done speaking, he wanted us to all stand up and pray with him. So everyone stood up. I stood up. Only my legs were both COMPLETELY numb, so they wouldn't support me. I started flailing LOUDLY while everyone else in the gym was growing quiet and serious for prayer time. I somehow managed to spastically lower myself to the floor, but it was already too late.

In slow motion, I could see every eye of every person in the entire gymnasium--practically the entire school--turning their eyes towards me. The man of my 18-yr-old dreams looked at me like I was the craziest person he had ever seen in his life.

I tried to play it off like I was just full of the Spirit, but I don't think anyone really believed me.

The end.

Every Day is An Adventure

My name is Ruth. Ruth is not that common of a name among people my age. I am not an old lady. Contrary to popular belief, people named Ruth are not always old ladies. One day, if I live long enough, I will be an old lady, and my name will still be Ruth. Maybe then all people named Ruth will be old ladies, but right now it is not the case.

...however, I do knit.

I'm thirty years old. I haven't always been thirty years old. Once I was a kid. I was an awkward kid. I was the kid who licked the monkey bars. I don't know why, so don't ask. I grew into an awkward preteen who couldn't ride a bike and couldn't do a cartwheel. Heck, I could barely tie my shoes. I grew into an awkward teenager who sat on the bleachers during gym class writing emo poetry before emo poetry was cool. Actually, at that point, I don't even think emo had been invented yet.

Well, the awkward teenager grew into an awkward grown up who still feels like a monkey bar licking kid sometimes. I'm thirty years old. I've had thirty years of awkwardness, thirty years of uncomfortable social situations, thirty years of embarrassment.

After thirty years, something really remarkable has happened: I've gotten used to it. Not only that, but I've learned to value my social awkwardness. I used to see it as an inconvenience; now I see it as a gift. I mean, anyone can go to the post office to get stamps, or anyone can go to McDonalds to get a value meal, or anyone can drive to the airport to pick up a friend. It takes the truly socially inept to make an adventure out of any situation.

I've been through so many embarrassing situations that I'm practically immune to embarrassment now. And with all the social awkwardness in my life, I've decided I needed a place to record my adventures. I hope you enjoy reading about the awkward things that happen to me. Maybe you can relate, or maybe you'll just feel a lot more normal after reading the things that happen to me. I dare say there are fellow adventurers out there!

And it's okay. I know that I'm a weak fool. The thing is, God uses the weak and foolish to shame the strong and wise (1 Cor. 1:27). There's hope for all the social awkward adventurers. So happy reading, and happy adventuring!