I'm not burdened with a plight of social anxiety and I'm not particularly shy or uncomfortable around strangers, but I think it needs to be addressed that while I'm almost finished living my teenage years (or teenhood, or whatever lame excuse a person can have for a period of braces, and textbooks, and musky body spray), I can't help but see, by social standards, how uncool I really am.
That's not really a self-depreciating statement, is it? Maybe the very notion of bringing up this topic expresses my subconscious desire to become a better, cooler version of me, like one of those kid moguls or espresso-drinking, turtleneck-wearing, poetry-slam-going girls whose names are Sloan or Annie or Tony.
But I think the real reason behind this post is to say that it's unhuman to feel confident and calm and collected all the time and that it's time to start embracing all the out-of-place feelings we have hidden or been embarrassed by since the emergence of Homo sapiens and our own complex central nervous systems. Simply put, we are exciting and funny and intelligent creatures in our most unadulterated, unairbrushed form, and that should be admirable in this carnivorous world.
I guess what sparked this conversation is the coming of the new school year. The first day awakens and arranges on a chaotic platter firsts of every kind: a first self-introduction, a first handshake, and a first time away from comfort and security that poses a time for fervent self-awareness.
It's perfectly normal to want to present your best, and it's perfectly normal to feel insecure- everyone probably feels the same way when thrown into a precarious sea of strange fish! So what if you didn't get the right professor, what if you forget someone's name, and what if you misspeak on the first day of class? If the human mind is incapable of defining perfection, then you certainly don't have to strain yourself into that mold.
Last semester, I somehow wrangled my schedule so that I had lectures only on Tuesdays and Thursdays. On these two days, my classes stacked neatly together, one followed diligently after the next, dishing out a liberal span of free time any other day. But with such a tight schedule, I had to frequently go from the two tips of campus within a designated time slot. Thus, I relied on public transportation.
What I found rather peculiar about those morning bus rides was that often, even on crowded buses, the ride would be deafeningly silent, all due to our particular attachment to cellular devices. It's rather comical to stand back and watch with no great intensity the texting wars we are having with others meters and miles away when we could be having a genuine conversation with someone next to us. The same applies when walking on campus. I wonder how many leaves we've crunched on or how many blooming cherry blossom trees we've walked past and let slip from our definition of truly living. All because it would awkward or uncool, by our standards, to appear in tune with our surroundings. But ironically, by our standards, we all appear uncool in acknowledging, through our actions, this insecurity.
Well here's my acknowledgement: Guys, I'm awkward. And I feel, behave,
and speak awkwardly in certain times and spaces in our space-time
continuum. But I've got a bigger life to live and a bigger person to be
in my and other peoples' lives and hearts.
Do you want to know what I think is cool? For a person to realize that there are missteps in life via cultural constraints and that it's fine to feel weird and insecure at times, just like the rest of us do, but that it's necessary to not dwell on those feelings. Because once we look past the shortcomings that make us the incredible human beings we are, not only will we build a greater respect for mankind but for ourselves.
