Socially Awkward

I will never be referred to as a "social butterfly." I'm much more likely to be described as an obsessive neurotic workaholic who will suddenly come down with an incurable case of I-don't-want-to-go-so-BACK-OFF whenever someone invites me to a party.

I am grateful to the people I've met for making an effort to include me in their social circle. I've done more socializing in the past few weeks than I did in the previous months, when I was still getting settled in Small Town. It has been a pleasure to get to know some nice people and spend time with them.

But on the other hand, I've always been an introvert and a loner, and I don't like to socialize THAT often. For example, one thing that Small Town Guy and his friends like to do on a regular basis is go out for drinks to a local bar. Since I'm a teetotaler, I like bars as much as I like trying on swimsuits within earshot of girls who are a size zero and complain that they look "fat". (I have a head-butting reflex for girls like that.)

But I go and drink soda at the bar with them, because I've finally realized that it's not good to let my life revolve around work all the time. Sometimes I feel shy and nervous around that many people; big social situations like that have always made me feel anxious and prone to saying things that make me want to slap my face so that I'll stop talking.

I've declined more than one social invitation, partly because I can't afford to go out as often as the others do, and partly because most of the time, I'd rather go off and do my own thing. Although I enjoy their company, sometimes my mind wanders when I'm with them.

I find myself thinking about the books I'm reading, and all of a sudden I'm not at a bar or out to dinner with the others. I'm sitting on the fire escape of a Brooklyn tenement with Francie Nolan from A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, or I'm writing in a Paris cafe with Ernest Hemingway in A Moveable Feast, or I'm camping out in Taos, New Mexico with the main characters in Natalie Goldberg's Banana Rose.

Other times I think about my own writing, which I've sadly been neglecting due to my full-time job and part-time job. I think about which guy my main character should end up with, and I think of scenes that I want to rewrite or take out altogether. It makes me wish I could take out my journal and jot a few notes down, but then the others would either think I'm rude or want me to read my writing out loud to them, which is about as appealing as wearing a swimsuit in front of them.

When I was younger, I tried to be more social. On the rare occasions I wasn't at one of my three (or four) jobs,  I went to bars, clubs, or parties with my friends. But more often than not, I'd make up an excuse and leave early, because I felt uncomfortable or bored. Once I went to a party where I only knew one other person. All the guests spent the whole time gossiping about people that I didn't know, so finally I stood up and announced that I was going home. One of them said, "Oh, I hope we weren't boring you with all of our talk!"

I replied, "Actually, you totally were. See ya!" (I also have a thing about being a little too direct sometimes.)

I remember going to a nightclub with some friends, where they danced, drank, and flirted. All I could think was how much I'd rather be watching one of my favorite crime dramas or browsing in a bookstore. I felt that as someone in her twenties, I should enjoy myself in situations like that, as so many other twentysomethings did. But I never really did.

Now that I'm older, I do try to adapt to social situations more often. But I still feel awkward and out of place sometimes, and I feel bad for being so antisocial. I think it's something that just comes with the territory of being an introvert, and it's not something I'll ever be able to change.

What about you? Do you consider yourself to be an extrovert or an introvert?

What It's Like to Have a Crush...When You're a Neurotic Workaholic Like Me

1. You spend more time on your physical appearance, because you want to avoid what happened the first time you ran into him: you neither brushed your hair nor your teeth that day. You start wearing makeup, even though you always hated wearing it, and you style your hair and choose outfits more carefully. Then you look in the mirror and think, "Wow, I look good!" And that makes you feel good.

2. The day you are supposed to go out for dinner with him and his friends, a ginormous zit will suddenly appear on your nose or your chin. When you sit next to him at dinner, you feel as if your zit is growing larger by the second, to the point that it might jump off your face and attack Small Town Guy or his friends.

3. You do something you rarely did for anyone else before: you give up time that you normally spend working in order to hang out with him and his friends, who socialize regularly.

4. When you come home from hanging out with him and his friends, the stack of work on your desk will make other zits pop out on your face in response.

5. You find yourself thinking more about him than about your work. You like that he's been kind enough to include you in his circle of friends, which really helps after moving to a town where you did not know anyone.

6. You find yourself obsessing over small things, like the time you texted him and he didn't text you back. When he apologizes a couple days later for forgetting to text you because he was busy with work, you resist the urge to say, "That's okay. It's not like I was waiting by the phone, picking out the names of my future cats."

7. You start to feel hope again, which is something that you haven't felt for anyone since your Grad School Crush last year, who liked you back but also liked playing with your heart as if it was a yo-yo.

8. After all the bad dates and failed relationships, you half-convince yourself that there is no reason to feel hopeful. Small Town Guy hasn't asked you out; he's just friendly to newcomers like you. You think, If it was going to happen for me, it would've happened by now. A great guy like him could have his pick of any other woman in town, like a thinner, more attractive woman whose mind is not like an eternal Seinfeld marathon. 

9. You think that maybe eventually, your life won't revolve around work and that maybe it could be about much more than that.

10. You also think that if by some miracle Small Town Guy ever feels the same way about you, it could interfere with your professional goals. He is established in his career in this town, but you plan to eventually move on to a more secure teaching position at another school who knows where. Your work has always been the most important thing to you, and you're not sure you'd be willing to give up everything you've worked for (and everything you're still working for), even for someone like him.

What about you? When you had a crush on someone, what were the positive/negative aspects for you?

There's No Place Like Home

Spring break at the school where I teach is still more than a month away, but I've already started planning what to do during my time off. I think I might be able to afford a few days off to travel, and I've been thinking of making a brief trip back to Chicago.

I've grown (somewhat) accustomed to living in Small Town now. There are only a couple coffee shops in town, but I've already picked out my favorite cafe and often go there to write. When I feel particularly claustrophobic, I drive to one of the larger towns or cities to go shopping or try a new restaurant. Despite my usual "leave me alone unless you have food, in which case just give me the food and THEN leave" attitude, I have started socializing more with people my age who live here.

But I'd like to visit Chicago again, even just for a few days, especially because I may never live there again. The job I have in Small Town is not a tenure-track position, which means that eventually I will have to move on to another school, either in this state or maybe in some other town halfway across the country (such is the life of the untenured college teacher).

There are some things about Chicago that I miss a lot, and some things that I'm happy to be free of:

I miss the Chicago-style stuffed pizza, and the way that Chicagoans often insisted that their favorite pizza place was the best and would even get into arguments with each other about it.

I don't miss the prices at many Chicago restaurants, which apparently have the motto, "Why make things affordable when we can overcharge you weaklings who cannot resist our food? HAHAHAHAHA!"

I miss walking around Greektown, where old men sat on chairs outside the restaurants and called out to each other in Greek. I also miss the fact that I could walk down almost any street in Chicago and hear at least four or five different languages being spoken.

I don't miss random creeps who called out to me when I was walking down almost any street in Chicago, because apparently they go by the following motto: If I yell out as many offensive things as possible and/or try to grope women that I think are attractive, surely ONE of them will want to hook up with me, and I have NO IDEA why this hasn't worked yet.

I miss the neighborhood festivals, like the Chinese New Year's festival in Chinatown, where I used to watch the dragon dancers, the Taste of Chicago in Grant Park, where I ate toasted ravioli and other delicious food from local restaurants, or Northalsted Market Days in Boystown, where I looked wistfully at all the good-looking, muscular guys dancing in colorful briefs and think, "And they're all gay, darn it!"

I don't miss the crowds at those festivals (or any popular event or place in the city), where there was sometimes the risk that I might get robbed/knocked down/thrown up on (and yes, all three things happened to me at some point or other during some of these festivals).

I miss riding the CTA trains and buses, because I dislike driving in Small Town; I dislike parking, and I dislike all the drivers who apparently don't know how to drive or park.

I don't miss the weird, annoying, or scary people on the CTA trains and buses, like the guy who took off his pants just because I glanced in his direction, or the people who would delay the trains by holding the doors open for their friends, or the people whose solution to crowded trains and buses would be to make them even MORE crowded by squeezing themselves onboard.

I miss riding rented bikes by the lake, window shopping on Michigan Avenue, and the free admissions' days at the museums.

I don't miss the aggressive bicyclists by the lake, the protestors who yelled at anyone who didn't protest with them on Michigan Avenue (and there are a LOT of them in Chicago right now), and the mob of tourists at the museums who walked so slowly (because they were appreciating the scenery) that I always had to mutter to myself, "Don't yell at the tourists don't yell at the tourists don't -"

On the other hand, part of me is thinking that maybe I should just save my money and not go to Chicago at all, or maybe I should go somewhere else for my spring break (I am considering a road trip to explore more of the surrounding area this summer).

What about you? What do you like best/least about your hometown, or what would you miss most about it?

All Grown Up

If you looked up the word "controlling" in the dictionary, you'd find full-page pictures of my parents.

A few nights ago, I went to the gym, which has a policy against the use of cell phones. That's why I often leave my phone in my locker or in my car. I engaged in a longer workout than usual, because I was lifting weights in addition to my cardio exercises.

It takes longer to lift weights, because some muscleheads at the gym (there are jerks like this at every gym) hog all the machines. They use several machines at the same time, meaning they'll work in reps, alternating among the different machines. If you dare to sit down at one of the machines in between one of their reps, they'll be on you in a heartbeat, insisting that they're "still using" it, even though they're also using three others. If you ever see a story about a woman in a small Southern town who got kicked out of her gym for "accidentally" dropping barbells on obnoxious lunkheads, that just might describe me someday.

Anyway, when I got back to my car, I found not one, not two, but more than half a dozen missed calls and irate messages from my parents. I was worried at first that something was wrong, like maybe one of them was in the hospital or one of their dogs had gotten hurt. But once I called them and they started yelling at me, I soon realized that they were worried that something was wrong with me.

Why, you might ask? Because I didn't answer my phone at 9:30 at night.

Although I am thirty-four years old, have a full-time job (and a part-time job), have three degrees, and have not lived with my parents since I was eighteen years old, they still act like I don't know what the hell I'm doing with anything, so they believe that they still call the shots on my life.

My mother and father actually called the police in Small Town twice, because they wanted the cops to go to my apartment and make sure I was okay. The police declined to do so, and they told my mother (I kid you not), "Ma'am, I'm sure she's all right. She's probably at Walmart or the gym, because those are pretty much the only places that are open right now." (They were right, seeing as how I was at the gym.)

I was (and still am) angry that they called the police just because they couldn't reach me for more than an hour. They think that I shouldn't go out at all at night, because "it's not safe."  If I can survive Chicago, I can survive in a small town.

I live in an apartment building full of students, including some of my own students. What if they had seen the cops show up at my door? This is a small town, and everyone knows how quickly gossip travels in a small town. Even if I tried to clear things up later with the truth, some people might still hold on to their false speculations.

I could just see my face plastered all over the local evening news, and the news anchor saying something like, "A local college teacher was questioned by police and will most likely NEVER TEACH AGAIN! In other news, there are no news! And now, on to the weather!" I'm still relatively new here, and I'm anxious to make a good impression on my employers, especially because I want them to renew my contract. I can't have gossip about the cops showing up at my door spreading all over the school where I teach. I mean, seriously!

My parents have always been controlling, but ever since I turned eighteen, I started standing up to them more and more. I first rebelled by choosing a major and career that I wanted, not the ones they wanted for me. To this day, if I dare to talk about a problem I'm facing as a teacher, my mother will say, "Well, you chose that career, so..."

I didn't back down to my parents when they got mad at me this time, either. I told them that they couldn't expect me to be at their beck and call, and that I had a right to go out whenever I wanted.  I know that they truly believe that they were just looking out for me. But why are they so worried now, yet they didn't show me any sympathy when I was in the EMERGENCY ROOM last year, and acted like it was my fault that I suffered from serious health problems (which I still haven't fully recovered from)?

I'm all grown up now. I'm not going to follow their "rules" for my life. After all, what are they going to do if I refuse to obey them? Ground me and make me go to bed early without any dessert?

But one thing I'm still learning to accept is that they will never change. I heard or read somewhere that the only thing that I can change about people like them is the way I respond to them. So it's one thing if they keep trying to control my life every chance they get. That doesn't mean I have to let them. And I never will.

What about you? Have you ever struggled for control over your life, your work, or something else?

Bad First Impressions

When I'm not working, there isn't a lot for me to do at night in Small Town, other than try not to cringe and scream, "SHUT UP, KNOW-NOTHINGS!" at the people on Fox News, which is always showing on the majority of the TVs at my gym, or go to Walmart and see how many Confederate flags, mullets, and/or pickup trucks I can spot in one visit (last count was twenty-seven).

That's why I was glad when a guy I met invited me to go out for drinks with him and his friends. It wasn't a date, just a friendly invitation. One thing about the people in Small Town is that they're generally pretty friendly (though I still get stared at suspiciously from time to time by random people, who can tell that I'm an outsider) and are always inviting me out to socialize with them. Coming from a big city, where strangers are more likely to rob you, attack you, or chase you down the street for no reason, this was very unsettling to me. (Even a simple "good morning" from some stranger on the street is still enough for me to grab my pepper spray or my keys, just in case.)

I have to admit, though, that even though it wasn't a date, I wouldn't have minded if it was. I won't say how I met this guy, just in case he comes across this blog and recognizes himself, but I will say I didn't meet him online. I've only socialized with him a couple times before with other people, never alone, but I know him well enough to know that I like him. I like the fact that he's attractive, smart, and just a little bit nerdy without being creepy.

Of course, whenever I'm around a guy I'm attracted to, one of two things will happen: 1) I clam up and act like I'm indifferent to him, or 2) I do or say something completely stupid, which will usually make him cringe inwardly and suddenly lose my phone number.

Unfortunately, when I went out with this guy and his friends, the second thing happened, despite the fact that I drank soda, not alcohol. If I drink alcohol I will: 1) fall into a crowd of people ; 2) start talking extremely loudly and stupidly; or 3) start singing and encourage other people to sing with me (all of this has happened).

We were talking about online dating at one point, and then all of a sudden it was like my brain floated out of my body, leaving my mouth unrestrained.

My mouth: And then my mother called me and said that I'm 34 and my biological clock is ticking, and...
My brain: Oh, my God! Stop talking stop talking stop talking!

My mouth: On the other hand, I would like to have at least one or two kids, hopefully soon, and...
My brain:  What are you doing? You might as well tattoo the word "IDIOT" on your forehead!

My mouth: I would like to get married someday, but I'm not sure if I could stay faithful to someone for the rest of my life, because...
My brain: YOU WILL BE SINGLE FOREVER.

I've been on enough dates to know that you NEVER talk about marriage or babies on the first date, because that's enough to make any guy run in the opposite direction. And the thing is, this wasn't even a date, like I said. But I was nervous, shy, and I hadn't been on a date in months, and unfortunately my brain could not get my hand to slap myself in the face to stop myself from talking.

I'm worried that I've totally ruined any chance I might have had with this guy, especially because it's been a few days and I haven't heard from him. But I will get to socialize with him and his friends, who, despite my babbling, invited me to hang out with them again soon. Hopefully I'll make a better impression the next time, though I'm not sure if it'll be enough to make up for what I said before.

What about you? Have you ever made a bad first impression on someone? Were you able to overcome it, and if so, how? 

I Wish Karma Was Real

A few weeks ago, I was driving along the highway when I caught sight of a large dog walking in the grass by the road.

I stopped my car by the side of the road and approached the dog slowly. Fortunately, it didn't growl at me or try to bite me. Instead, it seemed timid and frightened. I couldn't just leave the dog there, because I knew that the image of it wandering alone by the highway would haunt me forever. It made me think of last year, when I saw an already-injured bird die after it was run over by a car. I screamed when it happened, and then I cried because I didn't save it. I had to make up for that now.

I managed to coax the dog into the backseat of my car. The dog smelled so bad that I had to open my windows, even though it was cold. She (I think it was a girl) was wet and muddy, and a small, selfish part of me lamented over the fact that my brand-new, sparkling clean car seats were now dirty. It seemed like the dog had been outside for days. I stopped by a convenience store and bought a cup of water and a bag of chips for the dog. Judging by the way the dog gobbled down almost all the chips, it seemed like she hadn't eaten for a few days either.

The dog didn't have a collar or any tags, and there were no houses near the place where I found her. It made me think that some evil monster had dumped the dog by the highway.

I wanted to take the dog home with me, but my building doesn't allow dogs. It doesn't seem fair that my neighbors, who scatter cigarette butts and trash all over the parking lot and wake me up at 2 A.M. with their parties, are allowed to live there, but dogs are not.

I took the dog to an animal shelter nearby. They were very nice and assured me that they would take good care of her. I asked if she would be euthanized eventually, but they said they hadn't had to euthanize any of the animals in more than a year (the nearest no-kill shelter was more than an hour away; the dog was getting antsy in my backseat, and I wasn't even sure if they would take her). I was sorry to say good-bye to the dog, but I left hoping and praying that she would find a good home.

The whole situation made me feel sad and angry. I felt sad that I couldn't adopt the dog myself. I felt angry at the scum that abandoned her. I also felt angry at all the drivers that had passed the dog (she was very large, so it would have been impossible to miss her) without stopping.

It made me wish that karma was real and that eventually whoever left that beautiful dog by the side of the road would get what he or she deserved. But sometimes I wonder if karma is real. Not long after I helped that dog, I came down with the flu, which meant I spent almost half of my Christmas vacation in bed. I had all these plans for my time off, too. (That's also partly why I haven't blogged in a month.)

It made me think of how I tried to help people before. Once I helped push an old man in his wheelchair across the street, but then he got mad at me because I wouldn't stay and "socialize" with him. I used to bring doughnuts to a homeless person, until he got mad and demanded that I bring him sandwiches instead. I offered to help an old woman struggling to go down the stairs with her cane, but she screamed at me and threatened to hit me with the cane.

I don't wish bad things on any of those people, but situations like those make me wonder if being a good person is worth it. It's not like I hope to get something out of helping people (although a "thank you" would be nice once in a while), but sometimes it seems like good things only happen to the most selfish and inconsiderate people in the world (like one person who shall remain nameless, but whose name rhymes with "chump".)

What about you? Do you think karma is real? Did your attempt to help someone else ever backfire?