You know when you’re in a meeting (orientation, first day of class, group therapy session, etc.) and the Person In Charge announces that you’ll all be introducing yourselves to each other and it goes completely quiet, except for that collective groan that lasts for about three seconds? Then you hope you’re not called on first because you haven’t had time to think of a witty intro and your heart starts beating a little bit faster and all the moisture escapes from your mouth, leaving you with the feeling that you just might swallow your own tongue and how embarrassing would that be? Then it’s your turn and you can only focus on not swallowing your own tongue that you totally forget that awesomely witty thing you were going to say about yourself and your introduction is so amazingly boring you wonder who the hell will remember you anyway? And they don’t…
That’s me, right about now. I’m not good at introductions. In fact, I’m that girl who hides under the church pews because the thought of complete strangers seeking me out and shaking my hand and hugging me just plain weirds me out. It’s not that I don’t like people, it’s just that this whole touching thing makes me uncomfortable. Okay…fine, I’m not a people person but it’s not for lack of trying. It could be that I’ve tried too hard and still didn’t cut it with some folks, so now I’m only comfortable around my own kind. Whatever that kind of person is, I don’t know.
I like being around kids, though. Unless they’re completely obnoxious. But yes, if I’m at a gathering you’ll probably find me with the kids. Because when you’re hanging with the kids at the party, they think you’re awesome and a totally fun grown-up. The grown-ups, however, might just look at you like a big kid. And that’s okay because don’t we all wish we could be kids again? Having kids lets us do that.
I have a kid. She’s pretty cool. When I tell her she’s funny, she replies, “Yeah, we’ll you’re funny looking.”
She’s my kind.
Her name is not Elle, but that’s what I’ll call her from here on out.
Elle recently told me that I need to be nicer to people. This came out of her mouth after I shouted at a couple of bad drivers for nearly hitting my car in a turn lane. At first, it made me mad. I mean, I’m not a people person and she should understand this. But then it dawned on me – she doesn’t like to see me so worked up and grouchy. Or maybe she’s secretly afraid I’ll embarrass her at a school function by screaming obscenities at her teachers and fellow 2nd graders because I’ll feel she’s been academically wronged. Which I would never do. I swear.
So I promised Elle that I will try to be nicer to people. And to not call them bad names. Even if they can’t hear me. I’m sure, somewhere in some scientific journal, that being nice to people is said to be good for the soul. And if 2010 is to be anything to me, it will be the year of taking care of me and my soul. It’s my New Year’s Resolution…that I might actually be able to keep.
And this, folks, is why I do not like awkward classroom setting introductions.
By the way, I have a very modest and small blog that can be found by going to (blankety blank blank) if you are remotely interested in anything I’ve ever written about in the last 14 months. I can’t afford to move, I don’t have the energy to paint the house, and I’m way too out of shape to attempt moving furniture again, so Two Girls and a Road is my change of scenery.
Happy New Year (and am I ever ready to tell 2009 to suck it).