In passing conversations I have with people about myself, I am often very surprised at the things that people perceive about me. Primarily because they’re mostly not true. While I always strive to be myself and not put forth an attitude or persona that I’m truly not, I do try to exude the sort of persona that I wish to be, and that may get misinterpreted.
So I thought it would be a nice time to sit down and take a few minutes to learn about myself, more so who I am not, rather than who I am, because that is another conversation entirely. So for starters….
I know this seems a bit contradictory considering I have a self-promoting website and I’m devoting an entire entry explaining misconceptions about myself, and since a good majority of this blog is my own ramblings about things going on with me. However, when I say I don’t like talking about myself, I mean that I don’t like doing it in front of other people.
I’ve never been comfortable accepting praise or other verbal accolades because I don’t feel like what I do or have done is special enough to warrant it. I am not special. I am normal, just like everyone else. I don’t like the spotlight, unless I choose to put it on myself. I would rather blend into the crowd than have the crowd staring at only me.
One of the more common remarks I receive is that I’m so quiet, yet I have a look in my eyes that seems like I have a million brilliant things going on inside my head. Spoiler alert – a look inside my head isn’t as glamorous as people think it is.
Often times when I sit in silence, shooting glances across the room while someone is talking, it isn’t because I’m formulating some majestic hypothesis or theorizing some brilliant idea. Oftentimes I am biting my tongue so as to not saying something that would make me look like a dick. So while the perception that I have so much to say isn’t necessarily wrong, it’s the intellectual level of what’s on my mind that I disagree with.
At any random point in the day, the simplest things run through my mind as a way to entertain myself or keep myself from going postal on someone who may be more irritating than the kinds of people who walk down the middle of the parking lot. Rather than pondering great philosophical issues, my mind is often humming the Whistle Stop song from Disney’s version of Robin Hood or the Krusty Krab Pizza song from SpongeBob SquarePants. It isn’t glamorous, it isn’t genius. It is my way of preventing myself from lopping people off at the shoulders.
Let me set the record straight here – I cared about school. I, unlike the majority of people, did actually find school enjoyable as long as things were going okay. Did I get bogged down with difficult projects? Sure. But here’s the thing that a lot of people didn’t seem to understand – just because I had my stuff together didn’t mean I was constantly doing school work.
It’s something called time management coupled with “he who cares the least.” While I cared about my school work and wanted to do well on it, I did not obsess over it. I blocked out time in my day to work on it and once it was completed, I didn’t go back to it. It was done. If that meant I turned it in two weeks early, then that’s how it was. That’s when I chose to work on it.
I always had the ability (perhaps this is where my genius is perceived) to go into school mode when I was on campus and then turn it off when I went home. I never, if I could help it, took school work home. Why? Because schoolwork sucked. It wasn’t one of those activities I found enjoyable. So if I was taking it home, I was doing something at home that I didn’t find enjoyable, which made being home an awful experience.
I also never allow myself to get stressed out. The only time I get stressed out is when I’m surrounded by people who don’t have enough discipline to get their stuff done and spend their time complaining about how said stuff isn’t done rather than working on it. When I got to campus, I took care of what needed to be taken care of. I didn’t stand in line at Starbucks. I didn’t dick around on the computer. I didn’t tell my life’s problems to people who would have rather bashed my skull in with a hammer. I did my work. Because it was my job.
Probably the most surprising misconception about me is this idea that I’m just throwing girls off of me left and right, that somehow my shy, mysterious nature is ultra-appealing. That I’m the guy sitting in the corner of the bar eyeing random hot chicks and hypnotizing them with my sex appeal in order to score some strange for a night.
If that were true, I wouldn’t be writing this blog at all. I wouldn’t have written anything over the past decade. And I most certainly wouldn’t have gone to graduate school. Why? Because if I was getting poon constantly thrown at me I’d be out every night like Charlie Harper living the motherfathering dream. But this is, however, not true.
I’m quiet and mysterious because I lack the proper social ability to carry conversations with people, even those I know really well. I’m just not good at talking to people in casual conversation. It’s why I write, because I’m not specifically talking to anyone in particular. Some of the best conversations I have are with myself because not only do I know exactly what to say, I know precisely how to respond.
So in the end, maybe you realize that I’m not exactly the super-confident, man-whoring genius I somehow portray myself to be (unintentionally, might I add). I am socially awkward, responsible, and slightly crazy.