"It's food," said the guy (a friend of a friend), seeing me dither at the snacks table. I had already eaten before getting to the party, not knowing that there would be food, so I didn't really need anything- I just wanted to be a gracious guest and accept the host's generosity.
"Awesome, I like food," I said a little foolishly, not knowing what to say in reply to that, but feeling like I should say something under his mildly inquisitive gaze. I put a small handful of chips onto my paper plate and moved away to make room for other party-goers.
"Well that looks filling," said the guy, quirking an eyebrow at my meagre portion.
"Haha," I said weakly, and joined the others.
I love sarcasm. Used at the right times it's hilarious, clever and makes people bond.
However, I do not like sarcastic people. Not people that use sarcasm (or I'd be in trouble with myself)- just people that seem to live in a natural state of constant sarcasm. It's like they live to make try to make others feel uncomfortable or stupid.
One of the things that makes me not get on with sarcastic people is that I'm a very literal person. Puns are often wasted on me- and even though as a writer I can make (apparently good) ones up, I don't really find them laugh-out-loud funny. My friends love teasing me because I apparently become indignant really easily, even though I know they're only teasing. It's not as if I have a thin skin; it's just that it takes me one or two beats longer to pick up on social cues than other people.
"Don't worry," my friend said, "he's always really sarcastic." This was after first being introduced to him as her friend from dance- he asked me very seriously what time I was on, and I looked at my watch (I told you I'm really literal).
It made me think of how I have (had?) this old friend who had a razor-sharp tongue. I used to admire her for how forthright she was and how acidic her humour was- but after a few too many years of her using me as a whetstone every now and again, I decided that she wasn't just naturally talented in the art of sarcasm- she was just a bit of an arsehole.
So with this new revelation, perhaps I'll become more sensitive to the way people might interpret the things I'm saying. I believe that when I'm being sarcastic, I'm being so obvious about it that there is no question that I'm joking about something- but maybe there are times I'm not obvious enough and end up hurting someone's feelings. Perhaps we should all use sarcasm a bit less, especially as a way to cover up our own insecurities. Perhaps we should all be more open with each other, so the world will become a better place.
As if.
Showing posts with label social awkwardness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label social awkwardness. Show all posts
Sunday, 7 December 2014
Friday, 22 August 2014
Hey, I Just Met You, and I Am Crazy (Part 2)
I really wonder what on Earth is wrong with me, sometimes.
On Wednesday we were split into small groups during dance class to learn the next part of the choreography. I was hyper from dancing, as usual, and was chatting to another class member with whom I've never spoken with before. At the the end of the class...
"Well it was nice chatting to you!" they said, smiling.
"Whee!!" I skipped off at high speed.
... Told you I fail at meeting new people.
On Wednesday we were split into small groups during dance class to learn the next part of the choreography. I was hyper from dancing, as usual, and was chatting to another class member with whom I've never spoken with before. At the the end of the class...
"Well it was nice chatting to you!" they said, smiling.
"Whee!!" I skipped off at high speed.
... Told you I fail at meeting new people.
Sunday, 10 August 2014
Hey, I Just Met You, and I Am Crazy
"Sometimes, when I have a little left, I like to spray my hands and pretend I'm a robot." - Me talking about decorating cake with edible metallic spray about ten minutes into encountering a new human being.
I'm really bad at meeting new people.
No no, let me rephrase this: I'm really good at pretending like I know what I'm doing when I'm meeting new people at first, but I'm terrible at maintaining any sense of normality throughout the social situation. For instance, I'll start off seeming like a nice, normal person, and then only a few minutes in of talking to someone, sporadic flashes of crazy suddenly burst through the façade, like some sort of nervous reflex.
I visited a friend's house to play my first ever game of Dungeons and Dragons a few evenings ago- my character was a new addition to the campaign, and the group had already had two sessions of play. I already knew my friend of course, and I had already met her husband. It was the rest of the group I had to try to convince that I was 'cool'.
I had been talking like a nice, normal person to my friend's brother-in-law when the subject of what I'd used to make the cakes I brought silver came up (I'd sprayed them silver and gold like loot). Like a nice, normal person I explained how I'd done it. My friend's brother in law joked that he might end up looking like the tin man if he got any silver on him. And then, not at all like a nice, normal person, I cracked that remark about pretending like I'm a robot out.
At another point, we started discussing about how strictly we have to stick to our character's alliances and personality, and then ended up with a philosophical statement about how the inevitability of how our characters can and can't act could be a metaphor for life. And hastily and awkwardly added "Or not..."
During the actual game, I was absent-mindedly stacking the die up in a colourful tower. Another member of the group and pointed this out, amused. I felt a silly crooked grin appear on my face. "I like stacking things, stacking things is fun."
*Facepalm*
There were plenty of other moments like these throughout the evening, made worse by the fact that I was also trying to learn the rules of the game on the fly, stay in character and remember everyone's real and in-game names at the same time; and as the game commenced, I felt myself getting quieter and quieter. The group was fantastic- everyone was very welcoming and had the same cheeky, slightly avante-garde sense of humour as I did- but I was terrified of accidentally taking the joke too far, or stepping over the mark as the newbie. I started out being super friendly and slightly hyperactive, but by the end of the evening I must have seem very subdued, and perhaps even a little aloof in my awkwardness.
I used to be so painfully shy I wouldn't be able to talk to new people at all. Now I'm much better at pretending that I'm confident and at toning down my eccentricity to begin with, but this sort of suppression results in my eccentricity forcing its way out like water spewing from a cracking dam. Honestly, I'm not sure which one is worse.
Thankfully, the people that have stuck by me after these awkward first moments are both awesome and just as nuts to boot, so I needn't worry too much. After all, life is all about finding people with the same type of crazy as you, and those people become your friends.
I'm really bad at meeting new people.
No no, let me rephrase this: I'm really good at pretending like I know what I'm doing when I'm meeting new people at first, but I'm terrible at maintaining any sense of normality throughout the social situation. For instance, I'll start off seeming like a nice, normal person, and then only a few minutes in of talking to someone, sporadic flashes of crazy suddenly burst through the façade, like some sort of nervous reflex.
I visited a friend's house to play my first ever game of Dungeons and Dragons a few evenings ago- my character was a new addition to the campaign, and the group had already had two sessions of play. I already knew my friend of course, and I had already met her husband. It was the rest of the group I had to try to convince that I was 'cool'.
I had been talking like a nice, normal person to my friend's brother-in-law when the subject of what I'd used to make the cakes I brought silver came up (I'd sprayed them silver and gold like loot). Like a nice, normal person I explained how I'd done it. My friend's brother in law joked that he might end up looking like the tin man if he got any silver on him. And then, not at all like a nice, normal person, I cracked that remark about pretending like I'm a robot out.
At another point, we started discussing about how strictly we have to stick to our character's alliances and personality, and then ended up with a philosophical statement about how the inevitability of how our characters can and can't act could be a metaphor for life. And hastily and awkwardly added "Or not..."
During the actual game, I was absent-mindedly stacking the die up in a colourful tower. Another member of the group and pointed this out, amused. I felt a silly crooked grin appear on my face. "I like stacking things, stacking things is fun."
*Facepalm*
There were plenty of other moments like these throughout the evening, made worse by the fact that I was also trying to learn the rules of the game on the fly, stay in character and remember everyone's real and in-game names at the same time; and as the game commenced, I felt myself getting quieter and quieter. The group was fantastic- everyone was very welcoming and had the same cheeky, slightly avante-garde sense of humour as I did- but I was terrified of accidentally taking the joke too far, or stepping over the mark as the newbie. I started out being super friendly and slightly hyperactive, but by the end of the evening I must have seem very subdued, and perhaps even a little aloof in my awkwardness.
I used to be so painfully shy I wouldn't be able to talk to new people at all. Now I'm much better at pretending that I'm confident and at toning down my eccentricity to begin with, but this sort of suppression results in my eccentricity forcing its way out like water spewing from a cracking dam. Honestly, I'm not sure which one is worse.
Thankfully, the people that have stuck by me after these awkward first moments are both awesome and just as nuts to boot, so I needn't worry too much. After all, life is all about finding people with the same type of crazy as you, and those people become your friends.
Sunday, 15 June 2014
A Friendly DFL in Brighton
I spent the day in Brighton yesterday visiting my friend Vicky (the same Vicky I visited in Berlin during her time teaching there). The subject of what Brighton thinks of London came up when I mentioned that I liked how many of the streets shared the same name as famous streets and places in London (Bond Street, Trafalgar Street, Kensington Street etc).
DFL. Down From London. It's not generally something that's said in a positive light when uttered by Brightonians- wealthy, rude, arrogant Londoners buy up holiday homes and drive property prices up, make an almighty mess during raucous hen parties and stag nights, and generally clutter up the streets as clueless tourists during weekends. However, since I fit into none of those categories- especially not the 'wealthy' part- I'd classify myself as Mostly Harmless, like the entry on humans in the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
I love Brighton. I love London as my home and territory and have no illusions of leaving, but I love Brighton as its own separate entity, with its own separate personality. It's something I never felt about Birmingham for example, despite having lived there for five years. It does have some similarities to Central London (particularly Camden Town in some areas, and Camden Town is one of my favourite places in the entire world), in terms of diversity and wonderful quirkiness. However it embraces these sides much more heartily than London rather than being politely embarrassed by them. As for the atmosphere, it's simply more pleasant. People joke about having to be a certain kind of person to be able to bear London: big, bustling, hectic, shiny, dangerous, brilliant London. Well, it's true: you do have to be a certain type of person to survive my city. I say this with a unique and exquisite mix of pride and shame.
I think you do have to have a small, bitter, hardened kernel at the centre of your heart to stand a city where millions of people are crammed into one small place, always in a rush and not allowed to look each other in the eye- or worse, smile at each other. I am definitely a Londoner: I can phase seamlessly through a solid wall of bodies on Oxford Street, mentally shut myself out on a Spam-packed tube carriage and never feel safe while feeling like it's normal to never feel safe. However, I also notice strangers that need a hand and help them, chat to sales assistants like they're human beings and, horror of horrors, smile. I think this small, alien part of me belongs in Brighton, even though the rest of me is and always will be organically Londoner. I'm not saying Brighton is without its own problems, but in any case, it's nice to know that that little part of me has somewhere to feel at home in for a while when it feels like an outsider the rest of the time.
Also, you can see the sea!!
DFL. Down From London. It's not generally something that's said in a positive light when uttered by Brightonians- wealthy, rude, arrogant Londoners buy up holiday homes and drive property prices up, make an almighty mess during raucous hen parties and stag nights, and generally clutter up the streets as clueless tourists during weekends. However, since I fit into none of those categories- especially not the 'wealthy' part- I'd classify myself as Mostly Harmless, like the entry on humans in the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
I love Brighton. I love London as my home and territory and have no illusions of leaving, but I love Brighton as its own separate entity, with its own separate personality. It's something I never felt about Birmingham for example, despite having lived there for five years. It does have some similarities to Central London (particularly Camden Town in some areas, and Camden Town is one of my favourite places in the entire world), in terms of diversity and wonderful quirkiness. However it embraces these sides much more heartily than London rather than being politely embarrassed by them. As for the atmosphere, it's simply more pleasant. People joke about having to be a certain kind of person to be able to bear London: big, bustling, hectic, shiny, dangerous, brilliant London. Well, it's true: you do have to be a certain type of person to survive my city. I say this with a unique and exquisite mix of pride and shame.
I think you do have to have a small, bitter, hardened kernel at the centre of your heart to stand a city where millions of people are crammed into one small place, always in a rush and not allowed to look each other in the eye- or worse, smile at each other. I am definitely a Londoner: I can phase seamlessly through a solid wall of bodies on Oxford Street, mentally shut myself out on a Spam-packed tube carriage and never feel safe while feeling like it's normal to never feel safe. However, I also notice strangers that need a hand and help them, chat to sales assistants like they're human beings and, horror of horrors, smile. I think this small, alien part of me belongs in Brighton, even though the rest of me is and always will be organically Londoner. I'm not saying Brighton is without its own problems, but in any case, it's nice to know that that little part of me has somewhere to feel at home in for a while when it feels like an outsider the rest of the time.
Also, you can see the sea!!
Sunday, 25 May 2014
Small Acts of Defiance
I'm a pretty straight-laced kind of gal. Okay, I'm a rather kooky straight-laced kind of gal, but I'm no firestarter or rebel. The wildest thing I've ever done is break into a park at 2am with a couple of friends, a picnic blanket and some snacks and fruit juice to watch a meteorite shower (we crawled through a wall of bushes to get in, all the while worrying about angry badgers).
However, every once in a while, I'll demonstrate my disdain for society's more silly unspoken rules, in my own small way. Breaking into a park on a Saturday night to watch the stars and have a non-alcoholic picnic instead of going clubbing was definitely one of those times (I still believe that secretly no-one actually enjoys clubbing). I had another of those moments yesterday on the way to London Comicon.
I've been looking forward to this year's Comicon for ages, because it's only the second time I would have gone in full cosplay- wig and all. I'm pretty proud of my costume: it took a lot of time and effort to put it together. Originally I was going to go with a group of people, also in costume. However, at the last minute, it transpired that I would now be the only in costume, as a result of either people dropping out or others not finishing their costumes in time.
It also meant I'd be meeting my remaining friends at the venue, and that I'd be travelling alone in costume.
On public transport.
To hell with it. I did it anyway.
Of course, since this is England, no-one made eye contact with me- instead there was a lot of surreptitious setting of smartphones to camera mode around me. And of course, no-one will sit next to you if you look like this:
(Especially if you put on a creeper face).
But to be honest, this is London: there are far stranger folk on the London Underground than a girl dressed as an anime character (Homura Akemi from Madoka Magica, for the record). As I got closer and closer to the venue, I ceased to become the only person in costume on my carriage, anyway.
Still, it does take a bit of guts to do what I did: I did have to remind myself just to have fun since I wasn't hurting anyone, and not to care about people thinking I was weird. Okay, they may be right, but I'm not bad-type weird.
This is an age of of self-image, where you can filter your life to look however you want it to look on the likes of Twitter, Facebook and Instagram. However, it takes a lot more effort to actually *be* the person you want to be in real life, with no filters or editing. The person I want to be isn't afraid to do something just because others might raise a judgemental eyebrow. Sometimes, to be the person you want to be, you just have to stick your tongue out at quirked eyebrows and do it your way.
Like a boss.
However, every once in a while, I'll demonstrate my disdain for society's more silly unspoken rules, in my own small way. Breaking into a park on a Saturday night to watch the stars and have a non-alcoholic picnic instead of going clubbing was definitely one of those times (I still believe that secretly no-one actually enjoys clubbing). I had another of those moments yesterday on the way to London Comicon.
I've been looking forward to this year's Comicon for ages, because it's only the second time I would have gone in full cosplay- wig and all. I'm pretty proud of my costume: it took a lot of time and effort to put it together. Originally I was going to go with a group of people, also in costume. However, at the last minute, it transpired that I would now be the only in costume, as a result of either people dropping out or others not finishing their costumes in time.
It also meant I'd be meeting my remaining friends at the venue, and that I'd be travelling alone in costume.
On public transport.
To hell with it. I did it anyway.
Of course, since this is England, no-one made eye contact with me- instead there was a lot of surreptitious setting of smartphones to camera mode around me. And of course, no-one will sit next to you if you look like this:
(Especially if you put on a creeper face).
But to be honest, this is London: there are far stranger folk on the London Underground than a girl dressed as an anime character (Homura Akemi from Madoka Magica, for the record). As I got closer and closer to the venue, I ceased to become the only person in costume on my carriage, anyway.
Still, it does take a bit of guts to do what I did: I did have to remind myself just to have fun since I wasn't hurting anyone, and not to care about people thinking I was weird. Okay, they may be right, but I'm not bad-type weird.
This is an age of of self-image, where you can filter your life to look however you want it to look on the likes of Twitter, Facebook and Instagram. However, it takes a lot more effort to actually *be* the person you want to be in real life, with no filters or editing. The person I want to be isn't afraid to do something just because others might raise a judgemental eyebrow. Sometimes, to be the person you want to be, you just have to stick your tongue out at quirked eyebrows and do it your way.
Wednesday, 7 May 2014
Not Afraid of Children
Well, maybe a little bit. But not enough to run away from one.
There I was in Centre Point, one of Kota Kinabalu's most popular shopping centres, eagerly clutching a syrupy iced drink. I heard a happy little sound next to me, and looked down to see a small child beaming up at me: he must have been about two years old, judging by the confident mixture of Bahasa Malaysia and toddler-babble he was burbling.
Smiling absent mindedly, I made to jab my straw through the plastic film that sealed the cup. The next few things happened all at once.
The moment the straw hit the film the little boy made towards me at top speed. A brightly coloured sugary fountain spurted out from the pierced film of my drinking cup, and scooted backwards to avoid getting syrup on someone else's child in a mosquito-filled land. As I scooted back the child chased after me, and I ran backwards even faster trying to staunch the flow of palm sugar and coconut milk. I heard the kid's family laughing in the background as I ran backwards, myself covered in syrup, as the child gleefully chased after me with outstretched hands.
Eventually the father came and scooped up the giggling child, and the family started off. Feeling the need to explain myself, I called after them in English:
"I didn't want to get him all dirty!"
All of a sudden, the family fell silent and stared at me icily, smiles all gone. They turned around in silence, the little boy still reaching out towards me from over his dad's shoulder.
What.
At first I thought they didn't understand me and were a bit wary of me as a foreigner, but I realised shortly afterwards it's sort of worse than that: they were treating me as a harmless (hapless) passer-by at first because I sort of look like I could come from Malaysia, in the right environment (especially around my family). I think I shocked them when I instinctively spoke English, 'revealing' my true origins. Ah well. At least the little nipper didn't seem to mind. Even if I did nearly accidentally turn him into mosquito bait.
There I was in Centre Point, one of Kota Kinabalu's most popular shopping centres, eagerly clutching a syrupy iced drink. I heard a happy little sound next to me, and looked down to see a small child beaming up at me: he must have been about two years old, judging by the confident mixture of Bahasa Malaysia and toddler-babble he was burbling.
Smiling absent mindedly, I made to jab my straw through the plastic film that sealed the cup. The next few things happened all at once.
The moment the straw hit the film the little boy made towards me at top speed. A brightly coloured sugary fountain spurted out from the pierced film of my drinking cup, and scooted backwards to avoid getting syrup on someone else's child in a mosquito-filled land. As I scooted back the child chased after me, and I ran backwards even faster trying to staunch the flow of palm sugar and coconut milk. I heard the kid's family laughing in the background as I ran backwards, myself covered in syrup, as the child gleefully chased after me with outstretched hands.
Eventually the father came and scooped up the giggling child, and the family started off. Feeling the need to explain myself, I called after them in English:
"I didn't want to get him all dirty!"
All of a sudden, the family fell silent and stared at me icily, smiles all gone. They turned around in silence, the little boy still reaching out towards me from over his dad's shoulder.
What.
At first I thought they didn't understand me and were a bit wary of me as a foreigner, but I realised shortly afterwards it's sort of worse than that: they were treating me as a harmless (hapless) passer-by at first because I sort of look like I could come from Malaysia, in the right environment (especially around my family). I think I shocked them when I instinctively spoke English, 'revealing' my true origins. Ah well. At least the little nipper didn't seem to mind. Even if I did nearly accidentally turn him into mosquito bait.
Thursday, 1 May 2014
Humans are Humans Wherever you Go
"Would you like a bread roll miss?"
"No, thank you." I smiled politely at the air steward proffering me the bread with a pair of tongs.
"It's nice and warm fresh from the oven." He jabbed the roll at me.
"Er... no, thanks, I'm good." My smile faultered.
"Here." He leaned over.
"No really, I'm-"
The air steward scowled and dumped the rejected bread roll on my tray and stalked onward with the meal trolley.
That was during the journey back from Kota Kinabalu to England. I suppose it was only fitting my trip ended with an awkward encounter.
"No, thank you." I smiled politely at the air steward proffering me the bread with a pair of tongs.
"It's nice and warm fresh from the oven." He jabbed the roll at me.
"Er... no, thanks, I'm good." My smile faultered.
"Here." He leaned over.
"No really, I'm-"
The air steward scowled and dumped the rejected bread roll on my tray and stalked onward with the meal trolley.
That was during the journey back from Kota Kinabalu to England. I suppose it was only fitting my trip ended with an awkward encounter.
Sunday, 10 November 2013
Actually, I Rather Like People After All
Yesterday evening I met up with some of my fellow ex-contestants from the karaoke contest I took part in, just for a fun Japanese (and English, in my case) karaoke session together. I had great fun, and in the process got to know some new people a little better. I think my favourite moment was when I was chatting to the eldest member of the group on the way to the bar afterwards- a small, not-old-yet Japanese lady with a mischievous smile- and laughing about the sex shops we were walking past in Soho. She even quite knowingly asked me if I knew one particular shop in London aimed at ladies (to which I was just a tiny bit embarrassed and rather a lot more impressed!) She had up and left Japan at a young age, taking no friends or family with her, to start fresh in London: in fact a few others in the group had done similar, one even having lived in four different countries so far.
Recently I've been making an effort to go out and meet new people, and in the recent months I have met some awesome people and made some new friends along the way. It's occasions like this where I re-think the thing I have been telling myself pretty much all my life, which is:
'I hate people.'
Well? what does that actually mean? When I dissect it, it isn't a very nice way to go about life. I like lots of people- love them to bits, in fact. So when I used to say 'I hate people', I was directing this at the general public. In general.
But just who are the general public?
Potential friends. Potential enemies. Potential awkward but friendly chats in the queue or dirty looks after bumping into one another. A huge mix of human beings that are capable of doing the most wonderful and the most terrible things you can imagine, and every one as complex as the other.
There is a lot of cruelty in the world that I can't understand and that makes me sick, sad and angry. These things deserve hate, yes- but I believe that I've realised that it's not right to go about life hating the general public as a default. I'll try to be more open.
(Having said that, I hope I never have to work as a waitress or in customer services ever again.)
Recently I've been making an effort to go out and meet new people, and in the recent months I have met some awesome people and made some new friends along the way. It's occasions like this where I re-think the thing I have been telling myself pretty much all my life, which is:
'I hate people.'
Well? what does that actually mean? When I dissect it, it isn't a very nice way to go about life. I like lots of people- love them to bits, in fact. So when I used to say 'I hate people', I was directing this at the general public. In general.
But just who are the general public?
Potential friends. Potential enemies. Potential awkward but friendly chats in the queue or dirty looks after bumping into one another. A huge mix of human beings that are capable of doing the most wonderful and the most terrible things you can imagine, and every one as complex as the other.
There is a lot of cruelty in the world that I can't understand and that makes me sick, sad and angry. These things deserve hate, yes- but I believe that I've realised that it's not right to go about life hating the general public as a default. I'll try to be more open.
(Having said that, I hope I never have to work as a waitress or in customer services ever again.)
Sunday, 8 September 2013
The Tsundere Drawback
'Tsundere (ツンデレ, pronounced [tsɯndeɽe]) is a Japanese
character development process that describes a person who is initially
cold and even hostile towards another person before gradually showing
his or her warm side over time. The word is derived from the terms tsun
tsun (ツンツン), meaning to turn away in disgust, and dere dere (デレデレ) meaning to become 'lovey dovey'.' - Wikipedia
Not necessarily in a romantic way, and not necessarily gradually warming up over time- it can come out in dribs and drabs, almost like a very mild and very annoying but possibly endearing personality disorder that only manifests itself around specific people, or a specific person.
You probably know a tsundere character, even if you don't watch anime. Helga from the cartoon Hey Arnold!, who acts downright abusive and cantankerous towards her secret crush; Sherlock Homes from the TV series Sherlock who needles his long-suffering friend John with smug superior sarcasm; even Grumpy from Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, who's generally bad tempered about everything but has plenty of 'aww, so you do care!' moments.
My name is Tash, and I'm tsundere.
So is it as cute and funny in real life as it is in popular culture?
No.
Real life doesn't happen like that. Being tsundere is in fact very, very inconvenient, and in more than one way.
There's the first, obvious way: people (okay, guys in particular) that I take a liking to make my brain go weird. I go from being easy to talk to, fun, friendly and intelligent to not being able to make eye contact, aloof, even prickly. At best I'll be giving the silent treatment- not because I'm bored of someone, but because my brain inexplicably draws a complete blank- and at worst I'll come off as polite but frosty. Again, not because I want to be, but because my whole system goes into default defence mode.
It takes a long time for me to properly warm up to guys, even just as friends. I'm naturally guarded. Hell, it took me a whole year to fall for my now-ex (who was a close friend for a long time before we started a relationship, and who subsequently got bored of me after three years of being in a relationship). But once I eventually warm up, I'm the most loyal and caring person ever. See? Tsundere. Of course, however, this doesn't go down very well as a first impression.
Which leads me to the second downside. Making an effort to be warm from the outset in social situations that make me uncomfortable actually makes me come across as unnatural or just plain weird. Here was my internal monologue today (I was in a queue in one of my favourite geeky shops, and there was a guy with a pretty awesome Nintendo bag in the queue next to me):
'Wow, that's a cool bag. Maybe I should compliment him on it? Uh-oh, he spotted me looking, abort, abort! No, I should make eye contact. Don't forget to smile! Yay, he smiled back! You should look away now. I said look away! TOO MUCH EYE CONTACT!! Great, now he looks weirded out and is looking in the other direction. Way to go, dumbass.'
So training myself to be warm to everyone equally isn't going so well. Which brings me to the third and final downside.
Being friendly to guys and male friends who I'm not romantically interested in and them getting the wrong idea.
Before you cry 'bitch!' let me explain: I don't flirt, I don't tease, I just smile, listen, chat- you know, all of the normal friendly things- because I don't feel like I'm in an awkward situation. Unfortunately, it seems like merely being kind is a sort of green light to guys. I can count four guys in the past singular year who have taken my natural non-tsundere nature as a 'green light'- three of which I only met once! One is a little more unfortunate because he has been a friend for a few years and it's horrible to have to hurt his feelings, but what all four have (or had) in common is that fact that they don't seem to take 'no' for an answer.
'I don't see you in that way' seems to morph in their minds into 'I don't see you in that way yet.'
'I'm not interested in a relationship' becomes 'I'm not interested unless you change yourself.'
'You're like my brother' becomes 'If you show me a different side of you maybe I'll feel differently.'
No, no and no. And yes, as ball-crushingly soulless as it might seem, I have tried the 'brother' line in sheer desperation.
Tell them to their faces in cold, callous terms (or in some cases again)? Well the problem is, none of them have actually told me in plain terms to my face what their agenda is, and have therefore not given me the opportunity of doing so without making a fool of myself and them denying everything (despite two mutual friends clue-ing me up on two separate situations, which reassures me that it's not all in my head). Instead they (well, three out of four now that one seems to have finally given up) text endlessly, or message endlessly on social media.
Of course this can only end with hurt feelings. I've been on the other end myself, so I truly empathise (although I was much better at the whole giving up thing...) My empathy and sympathy won't help me or these guys- who really don't deserve this- though.
What do you mean, 'stop being so picky?' Isn't it even worse to humour someone when your heart's just not in it? Life isn't about taking anything and everything you can get at the expense of others- at least, it isn't to me.
So what should I do? Set my tsundere side as a default and freeze out everyone without discrimination at first? Stop being nice to my male friends and become a total biatch towards them (except for the friends who are already spoken for- funnily enough and thankfully I don't have this problem with them)? Try to be equally warm and friendly to everyone?
Probably the latter, I suppose. Easier said then done though: you saw the awkward-salad that was my non-encounter in the shop today.
I'll try to be more open with everyone, then. But only because I want to!! Got it? [/tsundere]
Not necessarily in a romantic way, and not necessarily gradually warming up over time- it can come out in dribs and drabs, almost like a very mild and very annoying but possibly endearing personality disorder that only manifests itself around specific people, or a specific person.
You probably know a tsundere character, even if you don't watch anime. Helga from the cartoon Hey Arnold!, who acts downright abusive and cantankerous towards her secret crush; Sherlock Homes from the TV series Sherlock who needles his long-suffering friend John with smug superior sarcasm; even Grumpy from Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, who's generally bad tempered about everything but has plenty of 'aww, so you do care!' moments.
My name is Tash, and I'm tsundere.
So is it as cute and funny in real life as it is in popular culture?
No.
Real life doesn't happen like that. Being tsundere is in fact very, very inconvenient, and in more than one way.
There's the first, obvious way: people (okay, guys in particular) that I take a liking to make my brain go weird. I go from being easy to talk to, fun, friendly and intelligent to not being able to make eye contact, aloof, even prickly. At best I'll be giving the silent treatment- not because I'm bored of someone, but because my brain inexplicably draws a complete blank- and at worst I'll come off as polite but frosty. Again, not because I want to be, but because my whole system goes into default defence mode.
It takes a long time for me to properly warm up to guys, even just as friends. I'm naturally guarded. Hell, it took me a whole year to fall for my now-ex (who was a close friend for a long time before we started a relationship, and who subsequently got bored of me after three years of being in a relationship). But once I eventually warm up, I'm the most loyal and caring person ever. See? Tsundere. Of course, however, this doesn't go down very well as a first impression.
Which leads me to the second downside. Making an effort to be warm from the outset in social situations that make me uncomfortable actually makes me come across as unnatural or just plain weird. Here was my internal monologue today (I was in a queue in one of my favourite geeky shops, and there was a guy with a pretty awesome Nintendo bag in the queue next to me):
'Wow, that's a cool bag. Maybe I should compliment him on it? Uh-oh, he spotted me looking, abort, abort! No, I should make eye contact. Don't forget to smile! Yay, he smiled back! You should look away now. I said look away! TOO MUCH EYE CONTACT!! Great, now he looks weirded out and is looking in the other direction. Way to go, dumbass.'
So training myself to be warm to everyone equally isn't going so well. Which brings me to the third and final downside.
Being friendly to guys and male friends who I'm not romantically interested in and them getting the wrong idea.
Before you cry 'bitch!' let me explain: I don't flirt, I don't tease, I just smile, listen, chat- you know, all of the normal friendly things- because I don't feel like I'm in an awkward situation. Unfortunately, it seems like merely being kind is a sort of green light to guys. I can count four guys in the past singular year who have taken my natural non-tsundere nature as a 'green light'- three of which I only met once! One is a little more unfortunate because he has been a friend for a few years and it's horrible to have to hurt his feelings, but what all four have (or had) in common is that fact that they don't seem to take 'no' for an answer.
'I don't see you in that way' seems to morph in their minds into 'I don't see you in that way yet.'
'I'm not interested in a relationship' becomes 'I'm not interested unless you change yourself.'
'You're like my brother' becomes 'If you show me a different side of you maybe I'll feel differently.'
No, no and no. And yes, as ball-crushingly soulless as it might seem, I have tried the 'brother' line in sheer desperation.
Tell them to their faces in cold, callous terms (or in some cases again)? Well the problem is, none of them have actually told me in plain terms to my face what their agenda is, and have therefore not given me the opportunity of doing so without making a fool of myself and them denying everything (despite two mutual friends clue-ing me up on two separate situations, which reassures me that it's not all in my head). Instead they (well, three out of four now that one seems to have finally given up) text endlessly, or message endlessly on social media.
Of course this can only end with hurt feelings. I've been on the other end myself, so I truly empathise (although I was much better at the whole giving up thing...) My empathy and sympathy won't help me or these guys- who really don't deserve this- though.
What do you mean, 'stop being so picky?' Isn't it even worse to humour someone when your heart's just not in it? Life isn't about taking anything and everything you can get at the expense of others- at least, it isn't to me.
So what should I do? Set my tsundere side as a default and freeze out everyone without discrimination at first? Stop being nice to my male friends and become a total biatch towards them (except for the friends who are already spoken for- funnily enough and thankfully I don't have this problem with them)? Try to be equally warm and friendly to everyone?
Probably the latter, I suppose. Easier said then done though: you saw the awkward-salad that was my non-encounter in the shop today.
I'll try to be more open with everyone, then. But only because I want to!! Got it? [/tsundere]
Monday, 12 August 2013
Self-Marketing: A Case Study with a Surprise
Everyone has different facets of their personality. At least, people are rarely two-dimensional, and there are lots of things that make you, well, you. However, I believe everyone has a facet that they put out there as their main USP for the world to judge them with. It's hard for me to determine what my own main USP is, but my general geekiness is definitely one that I don't bother to suppress.
This weekend I managed to bust out two almost contrasting sides of myself, one day after another: the Geeky Dorky Girl (GDG), and the slightly rarer Sophisticated City Gal (SCG) . Where GDG has a shy, slightly bashful smile, is hesitant to meet your eyes and will suddenly become comically animated when you talk to her about sci-fi, Super Mario or fantasy, SCG is confident and collected with an easy laugh.
On Friday night I was SCG, and Saturday and Sunday I was GDG.
My friend Siu Yen came to visit me in London over the weekend, and we began by going to a cocktail bar on the Friday night. We both styled ourselves with nice-but-not-too-OTT dresses, tamed and styled our hair to enhance our natural looks (sleek and straight for Siu Yen, boho waves for me), and made our faces up with careful precision (again to suit our natural looks, because neither of us likes the heavy makeup look). Still, we were pretty polished, and looking at our best for the evening.
Siu Yen and I are both slightly dorky and cute but very intelligent, and we share a very similar sense of humour and way of thinking- but Siu Yen is a little more used to dressing up and partying in the more traditional sense than I am- don't get me wrong, I love doing girly stuff, but my time is more often taken up by nerdy things like conventions and visiting places. She seemed pleasantly surprised to see me all dolled up when we met for cocktails with another friend (that's how often I go the extra mile to look nice), and off we went to hit the bar.
The first person to try to strike up a conversation with me at the bar was a man old enough to be my father. I politely chatted with him without encouraging further questions until he moved on to rejoin his group of friends, and I turned to Siu Yen and lamented at how I only ever seem to attract much older guys (it certainly seems to be true, sometimes). However to my personal quiet relief, another guy started chatting to me, and he was more my age. Thank goodness it's not only older men that like the look of me, after all! I mean I know I'm awesome on the inside, but let's face it: in this unjust world, first impressions are everything. In any case, I wasn't interested, and after a few good-natured digs at each other's choices of drinks I re-grouped with my friends.
I couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if I was interested in the second guy, and I thought of how he'd probably run a mile as soon as he found out that beneath my charming, elegant exterior was hiding a slightly awkward supernerd who only properly styles her hair once every few months. I certainly found that the young professional guys during my social experiment pretty much eliminated me as a serious option the more they discovered how dorky I really am. On the other scale of things, when I'm 'off-duty' and just my normal slightly dorky self, there's still a professional,strong-willed and sharp person under that, too.
In any case, it gave me a bit of an always much-needed confidence boost. I often think that older men chat me up because they think I might be easier because I'm not as stunning as other girls in the room (I'm alright-looking, but I'm no classic Ten). It's nice once in a while when I get noticed by someone more my age in any case, even if on a selfish level because I'm not interested back. Anyway, at the end of the evening I took my SCG face off, brushed my immaculate SCG curls back into my hair's usual slightly fluffy shock of waves, and by the next day I'd morphed into GDG- my fallback facet.
I own quite a few nerdy T-shirts. A Big Bang Theory-themed one with the word 'BAZINGA' emblazoned on the front in large writing, a crossover one with some minions from Despicable Me carrying off the TARDIS, more than one My Neighbour Totoro T-shirt, one with the Thundercats logo, a pretty cool 3D effect from from Cyberdog... but my current favourite one is a picture of all the main characters of Marvel's The Avengers as cartoon cats. It's freaking adorable. This is what I wore on Saturday, with some cropped linen trousers and sandals. Not exactly 'hot girl material', but it was very me.
Ironically, I told Siu Yen about my theory about me getting more attention when I'm dressed up, but whenever I'm more like myself, no-one so much as glances in my direction. I noted how although I hate being the centre of attention and quite like vanishing into the crowd, I do feel kind of sad that the exterior of the 'real me' doesn't seem worth a bother. Does that mean that the interior that goes with it isn't worth a bother, too? That is of course ridiculous- but the problem of course is that you have to get to know me over time to realise there's more to me than that. It's the same for everybody- but alas, some people get a visual head start in life.
The irony of that conversation happened when Siu Yen and I went shopping, and I was paying for my stuff at the checkout of a semi-stylish high street store. The guy serving me at the counter glanced at my Avenger Cats T-shirt and quirked an eyebrow at me. I felt a little self-conscious, but stared back politely but defiantly. I assessed him quickly: gelled spiky hair, effortless smart-casual style, a slightly haughty stance- he probably didn't have a nerdy bone in his body.
"Nice shirt," he said, scanning the surprisingly) fashionable top I'd just bought.
"Thanks," I said, thinking he was being slightly sarcastic but deciding to play along as if he were being sincere. "Cats- awesome, Avengers- epic, can't go wrong!"
The guy grinned, and I suddenly felt slightly defensive.
"Sorry," I said, instantly mad at myself for apologising like I always do, "Super-geek."
He looked a little surprised, and then he said something that blew me away.
"Me, too. Marvel, games, Warcraft, love it."
Now I was the one judging a book by its cover. Great. Wait, Warcraft?
"World of Warcraft? I lost like, a good two years of my life to that game! I quit just before the Cataclysm expansion because I got bored of how long it took to get from level 75 to 80."
"Well I've lost eight years and counting, but I really got into it during the Wrath of the Litch King."
"That's when I started playing, but I got sick of waiting for the right gear to drop from bosses."
"I guess I got lucky, now I have three level 90 guys."
"Geeze that's dedication."
I was aware of Siu Yen grinning off to the side, a little non-plussed at the WoW talk having never played it. In the end I paid for my stuff, all the while chatting away about the nerdiest stuff ever, and left grinning like a lunatic. Finally, for once someone noticing the real (well, more genuine) me from the start! It felt amazing. Maybe I don't have to be SCG all the time to be taken seriously as a person. I spent the rest of the day in a great mood.
The next day, I came to the station with Siu Yen to see her off, wearing my BAZINGA top. When we were in the coffee shop, the girl behind the counter pointed to my T-shirt and said to me "amazing top, I LOVE that show! Where did you get it from?"
I was in a great mood that day, too.
So even I am guilty of judging people by the way they present themselves, and there are people out there that will notice me when I'm not all dolled up too. In which case, I should learn to look at people in a different way, and remember that there's more to people than what they put out there on the surface for the world to see. I know this. Everyone knows this. It's just hard to remember sometimes when you're wrapped up in your own world of facets.
This weekend I managed to bust out two almost contrasting sides of myself, one day after another: the Geeky Dorky Girl (GDG), and the slightly rarer Sophisticated City Gal (SCG) . Where GDG has a shy, slightly bashful smile, is hesitant to meet your eyes and will suddenly become comically animated when you talk to her about sci-fi, Super Mario or fantasy, SCG is confident and collected with an easy laugh.
On Friday night I was SCG, and Saturday and Sunday I was GDG.
My friend Siu Yen came to visit me in London over the weekend, and we began by going to a cocktail bar on the Friday night. We both styled ourselves with nice-but-not-too-OTT dresses, tamed and styled our hair to enhance our natural looks (sleek and straight for Siu Yen, boho waves for me), and made our faces up with careful precision (again to suit our natural looks, because neither of us likes the heavy makeup look). Still, we were pretty polished, and looking at our best for the evening.
Siu Yen and I are both slightly dorky and cute but very intelligent, and we share a very similar sense of humour and way of thinking- but Siu Yen is a little more used to dressing up and partying in the more traditional sense than I am- don't get me wrong, I love doing girly stuff, but my time is more often taken up by nerdy things like conventions and visiting places. She seemed pleasantly surprised to see me all dolled up when we met for cocktails with another friend (that's how often I go the extra mile to look nice), and off we went to hit the bar.
The first person to try to strike up a conversation with me at the bar was a man old enough to be my father. I politely chatted with him without encouraging further questions until he moved on to rejoin his group of friends, and I turned to Siu Yen and lamented at how I only ever seem to attract much older guys (it certainly seems to be true, sometimes). However to my personal quiet relief, another guy started chatting to me, and he was more my age. Thank goodness it's not only older men that like the look of me, after all! I mean I know I'm awesome on the inside, but let's face it: in this unjust world, first impressions are everything. In any case, I wasn't interested, and after a few good-natured digs at each other's choices of drinks I re-grouped with my friends.
I couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if I was interested in the second guy, and I thought of how he'd probably run a mile as soon as he found out that beneath my charming, elegant exterior was hiding a slightly awkward supernerd who only properly styles her hair once every few months. I certainly found that the young professional guys during my social experiment pretty much eliminated me as a serious option the more they discovered how dorky I really am. On the other scale of things, when I'm 'off-duty' and just my normal slightly dorky self, there's still a professional,strong-willed and sharp person under that, too.
In any case, it gave me a bit of an always much-needed confidence boost. I often think that older men chat me up because they think I might be easier because I'm not as stunning as other girls in the room (I'm alright-looking, but I'm no classic Ten). It's nice once in a while when I get noticed by someone more my age in any case, even if on a selfish level because I'm not interested back. Anyway, at the end of the evening I took my SCG face off, brushed my immaculate SCG curls back into my hair's usual slightly fluffy shock of waves, and by the next day I'd morphed into GDG- my fallback facet.
I own quite a few nerdy T-shirts. A Big Bang Theory-themed one with the word 'BAZINGA' emblazoned on the front in large writing, a crossover one with some minions from Despicable Me carrying off the TARDIS, more than one My Neighbour Totoro T-shirt, one with the Thundercats logo, a pretty cool 3D effect from from Cyberdog... but my current favourite one is a picture of all the main characters of Marvel's The Avengers as cartoon cats. It's freaking adorable. This is what I wore on Saturday, with some cropped linen trousers and sandals. Not exactly 'hot girl material', but it was very me.
Ironically, I told Siu Yen about my theory about me getting more attention when I'm dressed up, but whenever I'm more like myself, no-one so much as glances in my direction. I noted how although I hate being the centre of attention and quite like vanishing into the crowd, I do feel kind of sad that the exterior of the 'real me' doesn't seem worth a bother. Does that mean that the interior that goes with it isn't worth a bother, too? That is of course ridiculous- but the problem of course is that you have to get to know me over time to realise there's more to me than that. It's the same for everybody- but alas, some people get a visual head start in life.
The irony of that conversation happened when Siu Yen and I went shopping, and I was paying for my stuff at the checkout of a semi-stylish high street store. The guy serving me at the counter glanced at my Avenger Cats T-shirt and quirked an eyebrow at me. I felt a little self-conscious, but stared back politely but defiantly. I assessed him quickly: gelled spiky hair, effortless smart-casual style, a slightly haughty stance- he probably didn't have a nerdy bone in his body.
"Nice shirt," he said, scanning the surprisingly) fashionable top I'd just bought.
"Thanks," I said, thinking he was being slightly sarcastic but deciding to play along as if he were being sincere. "Cats- awesome, Avengers- epic, can't go wrong!"
The guy grinned, and I suddenly felt slightly defensive.
"Sorry," I said, instantly mad at myself for apologising like I always do, "Super-geek."
He looked a little surprised, and then he said something that blew me away.
"Me, too. Marvel, games, Warcraft, love it."
Now I was the one judging a book by its cover. Great. Wait, Warcraft?
"World of Warcraft? I lost like, a good two years of my life to that game! I quit just before the Cataclysm expansion because I got bored of how long it took to get from level 75 to 80."
"Well I've lost eight years and counting, but I really got into it during the Wrath of the Litch King."
"That's when I started playing, but I got sick of waiting for the right gear to drop from bosses."
"I guess I got lucky, now I have three level 90 guys."
"Geeze that's dedication."
I was aware of Siu Yen grinning off to the side, a little non-plussed at the WoW talk having never played it. In the end I paid for my stuff, all the while chatting away about the nerdiest stuff ever, and left grinning like a lunatic. Finally, for once someone noticing the real (well, more genuine) me from the start! It felt amazing. Maybe I don't have to be SCG all the time to be taken seriously as a person. I spent the rest of the day in a great mood.
The next day, I came to the station with Siu Yen to see her off, wearing my BAZINGA top. When we were in the coffee shop, the girl behind the counter pointed to my T-shirt and said to me "amazing top, I LOVE that show! Where did you get it from?"
I was in a great mood that day, too.
So even I am guilty of judging people by the way they present themselves, and there are people out there that will notice me when I'm not all dolled up too. In which case, I should learn to look at people in a different way, and remember that there's more to people than what they put out there on the surface for the world to see. I know this. Everyone knows this. It's just hard to remember sometimes when you're wrapped up in your own world of facets.
Saturday, 3 August 2013
Let Your Conscience be your Guide
I've had a pretty rough week. No, let me rephrase that: I've had a pretty productive week. It's just that it's been so productive, I'm shattered beyond belief, and there's still one more day of non-stopness to go. Every day after work I've been going out on errands and the like, and now it's the weekend I've been even busier running around for people (two consecutive birthdays = a lot of baking of Tashcakes). The only evening I had off in my diary to rest this week was Tuesday.
However, this changed on Monday evening. I was in town after work because I had to commute, my car being in the garage for its MOT. I decided to stop by my favourite bubble tea shop on the way home, because I was tired and fed up, and it was only Monday.
There are lots of bubble tea shops to choose from in Chinatown, but the small shop Cuppacha was the first to sell bubble teas in almost as many flavours as you can get in South West Asia- and even though since then a bigger, more internationally popular bubble tea brand with a bazillion flavours and options has set up shop right on the main street of Chinatown, I've remained loyal to Cuppacha. Why?
Because they smile.
They are always so friendly in Cuppacha, and an attitude like that is becoming tough to find in retail and catering. At the other places, you're not really a human being, just a talking, moving body. And even if all customers are just bodies moving in and out of the shop, a smile really makes a difference.
So I went in to get my tea, ordering a fancy one where the topping comes separately. The guy serving me double-checked that I knew the topping was 50p extra, and I confirmed I knew. I paid for my tea, put my change in the tip jar, picked up my bubble tea and left.
A worried little buzzer went off in my brain as I sat on the train home sipping my bubble tea, and I fished the receipt out of my pocket: I hadn't been charged that extra 50p. I'd effectively stolen a topping! What was I going to do?
Normally, I'd feel a tiny bit guilty but forget about it, knowing a small undercharge wouldn't be missed. However in this case I felt terrible. This little tea shop was beginning to struggle to compete against the bigger company in its prime location, and I felt ridiculously loyal to it for a silly old bubble tea shop. However I always go to it- how on earth could I go back and look them in the eye again knowing I'd stolen toppings?
So the next day, I went two hours out of my way after work to go back and give them the extra 50p.
I know I know, I'm mad.
I felt really embarrassed, but the girl that was serving that day gave the cutest, most delighted laugh I have ever heard and like magic I felt better. Of course, I also bought another bubble tea while I was there (see? Being smiley works).
Don't tell me you've never been in a situation where you feel like you've conned someone, willingly or not, and felt bad afterwards. Was I completely pathetic going back? Probably. But at least my conscience is clear.
~Fin~
However, this changed on Monday evening. I was in town after work because I had to commute, my car being in the garage for its MOT. I decided to stop by my favourite bubble tea shop on the way home, because I was tired and fed up, and it was only Monday.
There are lots of bubble tea shops to choose from in Chinatown, but the small shop Cuppacha was the first to sell bubble teas in almost as many flavours as you can get in South West Asia- and even though since then a bigger, more internationally popular bubble tea brand with a bazillion flavours and options has set up shop right on the main street of Chinatown, I've remained loyal to Cuppacha. Why?
Because they smile.
They are always so friendly in Cuppacha, and an attitude like that is becoming tough to find in retail and catering. At the other places, you're not really a human being, just a talking, moving body. And even if all customers are just bodies moving in and out of the shop, a smile really makes a difference.
So I went in to get my tea, ordering a fancy one where the topping comes separately. The guy serving me double-checked that I knew the topping was 50p extra, and I confirmed I knew. I paid for my tea, put my change in the tip jar, picked up my bubble tea and left.
A worried little buzzer went off in my brain as I sat on the train home sipping my bubble tea, and I fished the receipt out of my pocket: I hadn't been charged that extra 50p. I'd effectively stolen a topping! What was I going to do?
Normally, I'd feel a tiny bit guilty but forget about it, knowing a small undercharge wouldn't be missed. However in this case I felt terrible. This little tea shop was beginning to struggle to compete against the bigger company in its prime location, and I felt ridiculously loyal to it for a silly old bubble tea shop. However I always go to it- how on earth could I go back and look them in the eye again knowing I'd stolen toppings?
So the next day, I went two hours out of my way after work to go back and give them the extra 50p.
I know I know, I'm mad.
I felt really embarrassed, but the girl that was serving that day gave the cutest, most delighted laugh I have ever heard and like magic I felt better. Of course, I also bought another bubble tea while I was there (see? Being smiley works).
Don't tell me you've never been in a situation where you feel like you've conned someone, willingly or not, and felt bad afterwards. Was I completely pathetic going back? Probably. But at least my conscience is clear.
~Fin~
Monday, 8 July 2013
In Which I Conduct a Social Experiment: Part 3- Conclusion
Bloody hell you know how I was bragging about running two miles a little while ago? I thought I was pretty hardcore doing it when it was 22 degrees out. Even more hardcore when I did it in the rain. I just went out in 28 degrees C skin-spitroasting-sun weather and only managed a mile and a half before feeling like a dehydrated jellyfish. Utter fail.
Anyway, yesterday. It was alright! At least I felt happy enough, the guy was indeed fun to talk to as I'd suspected and the hour in the coffee shop before I had to go meet my friend Jules went pretty fast. I made the mistake of choosing a size Massive coffee after a week's coffee prohibition though and spent the whole hour trying to act as little like I was about to be sick and then pass out as possible, but I think I covered it quite well. I think. I've discovered that I have a weird automatic response to feeling slightly awkward in new social situations: shaking people's hands way too often. It's weirdly overly formal, I've got to stop that. In any case, it was fun hearing a bit about what it's like to be on the guy-end of speed dating and the like.
So he texted me his email a little while after, which I guess means I didn't weird him out too much. His email address does have '1337' in it though so there's a small chance I might have been trolled (if you don't know the significance of 1337, look up 'leetspeak' and then bear in mind it has the same trendiness as 'YOLO' nowadays), but that's just me being a smidge overly analytical. Other than that, I didn't spontaneously combust into flames of embarrassment and shame, and neither did he, so I'd mark that as a pretty successful interaction between two human beings, even if that's the last I hear from Daniel-Does-Not-Do-Comicon. Therefore I close this experiment on myself, and anything related to this experiment that may or may not happen afterwards will just be put down to Life. Or possibly Irony. Most likely a bit of both.
Oh, and although I failed at running in the heat today, my training is definitely paying off: when I realised that I'd left my phone in the coffee shop whilst I was waiting for Jules, I sprinted a whole 300 metres back to the coffee shop, where my phone was thankfully waiting for me, and then 300 metres back again to meet my friend on time. It was 30 degrees out. Win. Although the sudden caffeine spike may have helped...
~Fin~
Anyway, yesterday. It was alright! At least I felt happy enough, the guy was indeed fun to talk to as I'd suspected and the hour in the coffee shop before I had to go meet my friend Jules went pretty fast. I made the mistake of choosing a size Massive coffee after a week's coffee prohibition though and spent the whole hour trying to act as little like I was about to be sick and then pass out as possible, but I think I covered it quite well. I think. I've discovered that I have a weird automatic response to feeling slightly awkward in new social situations: shaking people's hands way too often. It's weirdly overly formal, I've got to stop that. In any case, it was fun hearing a bit about what it's like to be on the guy-end of speed dating and the like.
So he texted me his email a little while after, which I guess means I didn't weird him out too much. His email address does have '1337' in it though so there's a small chance I might have been trolled (if you don't know the significance of 1337, look up 'leetspeak' and then bear in mind it has the same trendiness as 'YOLO' nowadays), but that's just me being a smidge overly analytical. Other than that, I didn't spontaneously combust into flames of embarrassment and shame, and neither did he, so I'd mark that as a pretty successful interaction between two human beings, even if that's the last I hear from Daniel-Does-Not-Do-Comicon. Therefore I close this experiment on myself, and anything related to this experiment that may or may not happen afterwards will just be put down to Life. Or possibly Irony. Most likely a bit of both.
Oh, and although I failed at running in the heat today, my training is definitely paying off: when I realised that I'd left my phone in the coffee shop whilst I was waiting for Jules, I sprinted a whole 300 metres back to the coffee shop, where my phone was thankfully waiting for me, and then 300 metres back again to meet my friend on time. It was 30 degrees out. Win. Although the sudden caffeine spike may have helped...
~Fin~
Thursday, 4 July 2013
In Which I Conduct a Social Experiment: Part 2
(Or rather the experiment has concluded and now the consequences commence).
So I mentioned that as a result of speed dating I friend-matched two people, and one sent me a message: Daniel-Does-Not-Do-Comicon, the one who seemed like an almost polar opposite to me interests-wise but still seemed fun. Part of his message read:
"You're very different to most people I meet // and I like that."
This made me laugh out loud- I thought it summed my efforts of the evening up pretty well! Part of my reply was:
"I got the impression that I'm very different to most people other people meet on Saturday, haha."
In short, we're meeting up on Sunday morning in town for coffee (no euphemism, literally coffee), which works out quite well because I'm meeting another friend for lunch in the same area after. So if he turns out to be a crazy person (and let's face it, we all know that between me and anyone I'm the most likely to be the crazy person...), I'll be in a very busy area with a friend nearby.
It's kind of a weird situation for me to be in. When I make friends it's purely 'organic' and happens gradually. In this case, it's more like 'Hey, I think we should be friends! Let's meet up at this designated time and place and try to be friends even more!' Of course, put like that, it sounds like an unusual situation for anyone to be in.
I guess the experiment's now on me, then. Let's see how a Socially Awkward Penguin like myself copes out of her comfort zone, shall we?
Haha that's ridiculous, a Socially Awkward Penguin has no comfort zone.
I'm screwed.
So I mentioned that as a result of speed dating I friend-matched two people, and one sent me a message: Daniel-Does-Not-Do-Comicon, the one who seemed like an almost polar opposite to me interests-wise but still seemed fun. Part of his message read:
"You're very different to most people I meet // and I like that."
This made me laugh out loud- I thought it summed my efforts of the evening up pretty well! Part of my reply was:
"I got the impression that I'm very different to most people other people meet on Saturday, haha."
In short, we're meeting up on Sunday morning in town for coffee (no euphemism, literally coffee), which works out quite well because I'm meeting another friend for lunch in the same area after. So if he turns out to be a crazy person (and let's face it, we all know that between me and anyone I'm the most likely to be the crazy person...), I'll be in a very busy area with a friend nearby.
It's kind of a weird situation for me to be in. When I make friends it's purely 'organic' and happens gradually. In this case, it's more like 'Hey, I think we should be friends! Let's meet up at this designated time and place and try to be friends even more!' Of course, put like that, it sounds like an unusual situation for anyone to be in.
I guess the experiment's now on me, then. Let's see how a Socially Awkward Penguin like myself copes out of her comfort zone, shall we?
Haha that's ridiculous, a Socially Awkward Penguin has no comfort zone.
I'm screwed.
Wednesday, 20 February 2013
Short Stories: Wolf Whistle Interrupted
I had another one of those moments that could only ever happen to me.
Today, I made a conscious effort to improve my appearance- that is to say, I never don't put any effort into my appearance (unless I'm ill with a stinking cold, but then there's no hope for any of us, is there?), but lately I've been feeling a bit 'blah' and decided to go that extra mile to perk myself up in the morning: use a special eyeliner, don a spring coloured blush, force my flyaway babyhairs to submit with a pretty bobby pin, wear a dress... simple but effective tricks.
Later on today I was walking up the street towards the office, having gone out for a walk at lunch time. It was freezing cold and windy, and when it's freezing cold and windy, my nose streams like a tap. The bin men were doing their rounds, and they were burly blokey-blokes and rather a lot of them: but I didn't want to cross the road in case it looked like I was intimidated by them.
So I strode past in my heels, head held high, dress fluttering and waist-length hair flowing in streams in the wind. I heard the wolf-whistles begin.
Literally *just* as the first few whistling notes sounded, my nose gushed suddenly, and I broke all composure to scrabble for a tissue up my sleeve to blow my nose: and proceeded to make a wretched extended noise like an elephant trying to blow out a cork lodged in one of it's nostrils.
As I ended with a final violent snort, staggering at the effort, I glanced up to see the blokes staring at me, aghast that this small woman could have made such a noise. Then of course I made myself look like a complete loon by doing what I always do in an awkward situation: laugh like a drain.
I carried on laughing as I walked by- I didn't hear the clattering of bins for quite a few moments, so I assume they just carried on staring at me in disbelief.
~Fin~
Today, I made a conscious effort to improve my appearance- that is to say, I never don't put any effort into my appearance (unless I'm ill with a stinking cold, but then there's no hope for any of us, is there?), but lately I've been feeling a bit 'blah' and decided to go that extra mile to perk myself up in the morning: use a special eyeliner, don a spring coloured blush, force my flyaway babyhairs to submit with a pretty bobby pin, wear a dress... simple but effective tricks.
Later on today I was walking up the street towards the office, having gone out for a walk at lunch time. It was freezing cold and windy, and when it's freezing cold and windy, my nose streams like a tap. The bin men were doing their rounds, and they were burly blokey-blokes and rather a lot of them: but I didn't want to cross the road in case it looked like I was intimidated by them.
So I strode past in my heels, head held high, dress fluttering and waist-length hair flowing in streams in the wind. I heard the wolf-whistles begin.
Literally *just* as the first few whistling notes sounded, my nose gushed suddenly, and I broke all composure to scrabble for a tissue up my sleeve to blow my nose: and proceeded to make a wretched extended noise like an elephant trying to blow out a cork lodged in one of it's nostrils.
As I ended with a final violent snort, staggering at the effort, I glanced up to see the blokes staring at me, aghast that this small woman could have made such a noise. Then of course I made myself look like a complete loon by doing what I always do in an awkward situation: laugh like a drain.
I carried on laughing as I walked by- I didn't hear the clattering of bins for quite a few moments, so I assume they just carried on staring at me in disbelief.
~Fin~
Sunday, 3 February 2013
Moments with Friends- Part 2
This is also actually a supplement story to the Romantically Challenged entry I wrote last year (the one where I tried to start a conversation with a nice-looking guy who worked in a chocolate shop by more or less asking him if he liked chocolate... yes, yes I know).
On that same day Lucia and I were perusing all the different flavours in that shop when another man who worked there came to educate us about chocolate.
"Chocolate is a journey", he said almost reverently at one point as he handed us a sample. Lucia and I stole a glance at each other, neither one of us sure if he was being serious or pulling our legs.
"Yes, you can really pick out different types of flavours," Lucia said bravely, subtly turning to me to give a half-shrug as I quirked an eyebrow back.
"It's interesting how chocolate from different origins works with different flavours: for example the truffles over there all work well with fillings, whereas this sort of chocolate is good enjoyed flat." He held out a bar of chocolate to indicate.
"What do you mean, 'flat?'" I asked, still in the world of flavours. Now both Lucia and the store assistant turned to look at me.
"...Flat?" The store assistant repeated slowly.
"Er- yes," I began, the feeling of realising I'd misunderstood something obvious- but still not knowing what it was- making my face slowly flush.
"It's a flat chocolate," he said, just as flatly.
"Yes. Um. Yes, but what does 'flat' mean?"
I saw Lucia grin out of the corner of my eye, realising that I wasn't actually asking about what the word itself meant, as the shop assistant looked at me like I was some kind of buffoon.
"It's flat. The chocolate is flat. See?" He held it out in the palm of his hand.
Flat. It had a flat shape.
The penny dropped.
"Ohhh I see! Haha, I thought you were talking about flavour or texture, like when a soft drink is fizzy or flat, and I was wondering if there was a chocolate equivalent of a flat drink, or..." I tailed off, embarrassed.
"No." He said, and simply walked off. I felt my face grow hotter and hoped that the other nice-looking guy hadn't overheard.
~Fin~
'What does flat mean?' Hah. In my defence, it's not that I'm stupid: it's just that I'm so clever that sometimes my tangled brain overcomplicates things unnecessarily- this has actually been said about me many times.
Funnily enough, this often ends up having exactly the same effect as being stupid.
On that same day Lucia and I were perusing all the different flavours in that shop when another man who worked there came to educate us about chocolate.
"Chocolate is a journey", he said almost reverently at one point as he handed us a sample. Lucia and I stole a glance at each other, neither one of us sure if he was being serious or pulling our legs.
"Yes, you can really pick out different types of flavours," Lucia said bravely, subtly turning to me to give a half-shrug as I quirked an eyebrow back.
"It's interesting how chocolate from different origins works with different flavours: for example the truffles over there all work well with fillings, whereas this sort of chocolate is good enjoyed flat." He held out a bar of chocolate to indicate.
"What do you mean, 'flat?'" I asked, still in the world of flavours. Now both Lucia and the store assistant turned to look at me.
"...Flat?" The store assistant repeated slowly.
"Er- yes," I began, the feeling of realising I'd misunderstood something obvious- but still not knowing what it was- making my face slowly flush.
"It's a flat chocolate," he said, just as flatly.
"Yes. Um. Yes, but what does 'flat' mean?"
I saw Lucia grin out of the corner of my eye, realising that I wasn't actually asking about what the word itself meant, as the shop assistant looked at me like I was some kind of buffoon.
"It's flat. The chocolate is flat. See?" He held it out in the palm of his hand.
Flat. It had a flat shape.
The penny dropped.
"Ohhh I see! Haha, I thought you were talking about flavour or texture, like when a soft drink is fizzy or flat, and I was wondering if there was a chocolate equivalent of a flat drink, or..." I tailed off, embarrassed.
"No." He said, and simply walked off. I felt my face grow hotter and hoped that the other nice-looking guy hadn't overheard.
~Fin~
'What does flat mean?' Hah. In my defence, it's not that I'm stupid: it's just that I'm so clever that sometimes my tangled brain overcomplicates things unnecessarily- this has actually been said about me many times.
Funnily enough, this often ends up having exactly the same effect as being stupid.
Monday, 31 December 2012
Serious Business: Mouse to Manticore in Eight Years
This is the story of my crystal necklace.
Everyone who knows me knows I wear a single AB Swarovski crystal drop on a silver chain. Everyone who knows me well enough knows that I wear it every day, and everyone who knows me better knows to avoid buying me jewellery because I've worn it every day since I bought it and little else. Some people know that I've worn it for eight years, from when I bought it in Venice.
The only thing about the necklace that has stayed the same over the years is the crystal: the chain has been replaced about five times, the clasp about six; I've even replaced the bail that loops the crystal to the chain. Even though the only surviving part of the original necklace is the crystal, I still view it as the same necklace. Like my watch (another item that's almost like a part of me), I put it on every morning on autopilot, not really thinking about it.
On Boxing Day, it went missing. I haven't seen it since.
I remember wearing it on Christmas Day, and taking it off with my watch when every time I opened the oven to check on my roast it heated up and burned me. I remember putting it on the coffee table with my watch. I don't remember putting either back on, nor taking either off before bedtime as usual, nor putting both on in the morning as usual. All I know is that when I came back from the shops on Boxing Day afternoon, I was wearing my watch, but my neck was bare.
I bought it in 2004, during my school's music school tour to Venice (I sang in the choir and played the flute in two other groups). We had a free day before a concert in the evening and were milling around the shops and markets of the city. In a shop full of trinkets and tat, there was a small stand on a table next to the checkout with a few odd necklaces going for a couple of Euros hanging off of it. Like a magpie, my eyes instantly caught the rainbow sparkliness of the single drop crystal necklace, and I bought it. I've always liked the rainbow effect of AB crystals (probably because my birthstone is opal) and around that time I was constantly wearing cubic AB crystal earrings, so this necklace matched perfectly. I ended up wearing the necklace long after I stopped wearing those earrings.
It was also around that time I had stopped becoming almost cripplingly shy and only a little bit shy. I had gone through the first few years of secondary school as quiet as a mouse, swinging from being unable to make friends to being in the middle of upsetting situations when I eventually did make them; more upsetting than your average teenager has to face (which can be tricky enough as it is). Now I was beginning to find my roar. Okay, so it was a quiet, almost apologetic roar, but still a roar. By 2004, which was when I was sitting my GCSE exams, I was talking to people more often. I think my necklace became a kind of amulet, almost like a lucky charm (even though I don't believe in them): something I subconsciously associated with this time of life and the gradual change in me. It symbolised that the bad and sad times were over, and that I was slowly but surely on my way up in the world: and so I wore it every day, only hanging it up to rest when ill, asleep or in costume.
I've lost it once before- it was about three years ago when I was still at university. I was heartbroken, and searched high and low for it. It turned up later in the day tangled at the back of my hair: the chain had snapped, and it and the crystal had luckily snarled themselves in my curls. I knew deep down I'd find it, though- quite often when I lose something I'll feel panicked, but if I'm liable to find it again I'll know at the back of my mind.
This time was different though: as soon as I went to twirl the crystal around my fingers- a habit I've picked up after the numerous years, and probably a contributing factor to my loss- and found it missing, I knew immediately: that was that. Maybe that's why although I was upset- of course I was upset- I wasn't heartbroken this time. I'd already accepted that one day I'd lose it forever when the chain finally snapped whilst I was out.
What has this got to do with the New Year? Well, it seems fitting to me that I should lose my amulet, my symbol of the New Me, days before a new year, and in particular this year- 2012 is the year of extreme ups and downs: my first heartbreak/ breakup with my first boyfriend (well... technically the second, but I don't really count the two months we got back together for after the first breakup); one of my closest friends getting married to another good friend; losing a total of two stone and feeling fantastic; the months of struggle to find a job; finding a job; going to Australia... many things and many more that have shaped me significantly yet again. I suppose I have changed again, because I also felt a weird relief at losing my necklace- there's no longer any sense of automatic obligation every morning to don my amulet. To sound incredibly melodramatic, I'm free from my past: because even though my necklace was a symbol of me changing for the better, it was also a symbol of the mud I had to wade through to get to that point.
I'm still nerdy and geeky, still a tad socially awkward* and still, at times, a smidge on the shy side (not always though- recently I went up to a total stranger in town to ask him why he was wearing a Banana Man costume to advertise online dating- hey, I really had to know**), but no longer a mouse.
So. New year, new necklace? I'm not going to get an exact replacement, and I don't think I'll ever have something that I wear day in, day out again. A shame opals are so pricey... I'd rather like a faceted Ethiopian welo opal (hint hint, for any randomly generous and wealthy passing reader! A girl can dream, right?) In the meantime, I do need a new everyday necklace I suppose. My magpie senses are tingling...
A very happy new year to you all- here's to all the changes that make us, us. Let's made 2013 amazing!
* As is apparent in almost every post in this blog- although I have a feeling being British has a lot to do with it, too
** He told me miserably, 'My manager told me it'd attract more attention.' Well... I suppose I can't fault that.
Everyone who knows me knows I wear a single AB Swarovski crystal drop on a silver chain. Everyone who knows me well enough knows that I wear it every day, and everyone who knows me better knows to avoid buying me jewellery because I've worn it every day since I bought it and little else. Some people know that I've worn it for eight years, from when I bought it in Venice.
The only thing about the necklace that has stayed the same over the years is the crystal: the chain has been replaced about five times, the clasp about six; I've even replaced the bail that loops the crystal to the chain. Even though the only surviving part of the original necklace is the crystal, I still view it as the same necklace. Like my watch (another item that's almost like a part of me), I put it on every morning on autopilot, not really thinking about it.
On Boxing Day, it went missing. I haven't seen it since.
I remember wearing it on Christmas Day, and taking it off with my watch when every time I opened the oven to check on my roast it heated up and burned me. I remember putting it on the coffee table with my watch. I don't remember putting either back on, nor taking either off before bedtime as usual, nor putting both on in the morning as usual. All I know is that when I came back from the shops on Boxing Day afternoon, I was wearing my watch, but my neck was bare.
I bought it in 2004, during my school's music school tour to Venice (I sang in the choir and played the flute in two other groups). We had a free day before a concert in the evening and were milling around the shops and markets of the city. In a shop full of trinkets and tat, there was a small stand on a table next to the checkout with a few odd necklaces going for a couple of Euros hanging off of it. Like a magpie, my eyes instantly caught the rainbow sparkliness of the single drop crystal necklace, and I bought it. I've always liked the rainbow effect of AB crystals (probably because my birthstone is opal) and around that time I was constantly wearing cubic AB crystal earrings, so this necklace matched perfectly. I ended up wearing the necklace long after I stopped wearing those earrings.
It was also around that time I had stopped becoming almost cripplingly shy and only a little bit shy. I had gone through the first few years of secondary school as quiet as a mouse, swinging from being unable to make friends to being in the middle of upsetting situations when I eventually did make them; more upsetting than your average teenager has to face (which can be tricky enough as it is). Now I was beginning to find my roar. Okay, so it was a quiet, almost apologetic roar, but still a roar. By 2004, which was when I was sitting my GCSE exams, I was talking to people more often. I think my necklace became a kind of amulet, almost like a lucky charm (even though I don't believe in them): something I subconsciously associated with this time of life and the gradual change in me. It symbolised that the bad and sad times were over, and that I was slowly but surely on my way up in the world: and so I wore it every day, only hanging it up to rest when ill, asleep or in costume.
I've lost it once before- it was about three years ago when I was still at university. I was heartbroken, and searched high and low for it. It turned up later in the day tangled at the back of my hair: the chain had snapped, and it and the crystal had luckily snarled themselves in my curls. I knew deep down I'd find it, though- quite often when I lose something I'll feel panicked, but if I'm liable to find it again I'll know at the back of my mind.
This time was different though: as soon as I went to twirl the crystal around my fingers- a habit I've picked up after the numerous years, and probably a contributing factor to my loss- and found it missing, I knew immediately: that was that. Maybe that's why although I was upset- of course I was upset- I wasn't heartbroken this time. I'd already accepted that one day I'd lose it forever when the chain finally snapped whilst I was out.
What has this got to do with the New Year? Well, it seems fitting to me that I should lose my amulet, my symbol of the New Me, days before a new year, and in particular this year- 2012 is the year of extreme ups and downs: my first heartbreak/ breakup with my first boyfriend (well... technically the second, but I don't really count the two months we got back together for after the first breakup); one of my closest friends getting married to another good friend; losing a total of two stone and feeling fantastic; the months of struggle to find a job; finding a job; going to Australia... many things and many more that have shaped me significantly yet again. I suppose I have changed again, because I also felt a weird relief at losing my necklace- there's no longer any sense of automatic obligation every morning to don my amulet. To sound incredibly melodramatic, I'm free from my past: because even though my necklace was a symbol of me changing for the better, it was also a symbol of the mud I had to wade through to get to that point.
I'm still nerdy and geeky, still a tad socially awkward* and still, at times, a smidge on the shy side (not always though- recently I went up to a total stranger in town to ask him why he was wearing a Banana Man costume to advertise online dating- hey, I really had to know**), but no longer a mouse.
So. New year, new necklace? I'm not going to get an exact replacement, and I don't think I'll ever have something that I wear day in, day out again. A shame opals are so pricey... I'd rather like a faceted Ethiopian welo opal (hint hint, for any randomly generous and wealthy passing reader! A girl can dream, right?) In the meantime, I do need a new everyday necklace I suppose. My magpie senses are tingling...
A very happy new year to you all- here's to all the changes that make us, us. Let's made 2013 amazing!
* As is apparent in almost every post in this blog- although I have a feeling being British has a lot to do with it, too
** He told me miserably, 'My manager told me it'd attract more attention.' Well... I suppose I can't fault that.
Wednesday, 19 December 2012
Crouching Tasha, Hidden Panda
This is my hat.
Marvel at its panda-ness.
Last week I got to don it when we had a sudden cold snap. Everything froze overnight, and since it had been a bit damp the day before all the trees and plants appeared to turn into beautiful crystalline structure. When I parked in my office car park and got out I noticed that the weeds on the grassy bank behind my car had developed some fun-looking ice prickles, so I decided to snap them. I crouched down with my little compact camera into the foliage to attempt to get a clean, car-less shot.
After a while my legs fell asleep, so I had to get up really slowly to stop myself from falling over. Little did I know there had been someone curiously (and slightly nervously) waiting the other side of my car, probably having heard me scuffling about in the grass and wanting to make sure everything was alright. She stared at me, partially curious, partially a little bit scared, and possibly with a hint of pity. When I thought back about it later, I realised this is what she must have seen:
A pair of black bear ears, slowly rising from behind a car, followed by a pair of panda eyes, a panda nose, my eyebrows, and gradually the rest of my face and body, looking guilty (because it's my default expression) and poised with a camera, standing in the middle of the grassy bank.
I can't read minds, but her thoughts might have had something to do with spies, sneaks and weirdos.
Oh, and here are the photos I took, by the way. I'm not sure they were worth it.
~Fin~
Marvel at its panda-ness.
Last week I got to don it when we had a sudden cold snap. Everything froze overnight, and since it had been a bit damp the day before all the trees and plants appeared to turn into beautiful crystalline structure. When I parked in my office car park and got out I noticed that the weeds on the grassy bank behind my car had developed some fun-looking ice prickles, so I decided to snap them. I crouched down with my little compact camera into the foliage to attempt to get a clean, car-less shot.
After a while my legs fell asleep, so I had to get up really slowly to stop myself from falling over. Little did I know there had been someone curiously (and slightly nervously) waiting the other side of my car, probably having heard me scuffling about in the grass and wanting to make sure everything was alright. She stared at me, partially curious, partially a little bit scared, and possibly with a hint of pity. When I thought back about it later, I realised this is what she must have seen:
A pair of black bear ears, slowly rising from behind a car, followed by a pair of panda eyes, a panda nose, my eyebrows, and gradually the rest of my face and body, looking guilty (because it's my default expression) and poised with a camera, standing in the middle of the grassy bank.
I can't read minds, but her thoughts might have had something to do with spies, sneaks and weirdos.
Oh, and here are the photos I took, by the way. I'm not sure they were worth it.
~Fin~
Wednesday, 21 November 2012
Short Stories: Dancing In Front of Strangers
'I don't dance.' A common phrase of mine, say, five odd years ago. Fast forward five years on and my friend Lucia shows me her wedding DVD, which at one point features me gleefully doing the robot on the dance floor.
I've posted about the zumba classes in this blog before, which should already say something about the class' blogworthyness. Tonight, after most of the years of my life spent telling people I don't dance, I volunteered to be a demonstrator for one of the dances. This involved a lot of solo-samba-ing, air-boxing and, more mortifyingly, wiggling my hips at the rest of the class.
Me, dancing around and shaking my tush in front of about twenty other people.
Haaaahahahahaha.
I feel like I have a great big '1' drawn on the invisible scoreboard of my life, somewhere.
I've posted about the zumba classes in this blog before, which should already say something about the class' blogworthyness. Tonight, after most of the years of my life spent telling people I don't dance, I volunteered to be a demonstrator for one of the dances. This involved a lot of solo-samba-ing, air-boxing and, more mortifyingly, wiggling my hips at the rest of the class.
Me, dancing around and shaking my tush in front of about twenty other people.
Haaaahahahahaha.
I feel like I have a great big '1' drawn on the invisible scoreboard of my life, somewhere.
Sunday, 18 November 2012
A Really Cool Book 'Shop' and an Awkward Near-Encounter
Today, I met up with my friend Min-Hwee in the west end. We had lunch in Chinatown at Jen Café and then had tea at Camellia's Tea House on Carnaby Street. When we were walking around on Carnaby Street we came across a book exchange: the Carnaby Book Exchange.
You're also encouraged to leave a note for another reader to find. So Min-Hwee and I went in on a mini-quest to find a book with a note.
Min-Hwee found one on her first try- a really old book (can't remember what it was) with the message 'Take care of yourself'' pencilled in on the inside of the front cover. It took me a while to find a book with a message, but when I did it was a good one.
This was the book I picked up:
I was surprised someone had left this, because it really is a very powerful book- Min-Hwee was too (she also has the book at home). When I turned the front cover, I found out why.
Both Min-Hwee and I are Chinese (well, I'm half-Chinese, to be exact), so we found it pretty funny.
Now to the awkward near-encounter... at the time, ironically, my friend and I were talking about who we still kept in contact with from our old school, and who we'd bumped into recently. We were in a shop when she suddenly pointed and said,
"Look, that girl was from our school! Wasn't she in your year?"
I looked around, and noticed the girl- two of them together in fact- were indeed from my year, if not from my class.
"Should we go say hello to them?" Min-Hwee asked.
"No!!" I suddenly felt a bit panicked: I'd never really been on speaking terms with these two at school so I felt like it would be a bit fake to go over and be all friendly and 'hiiii I haven't seen you in aaaaages' etc. etc. And to my further horror, I realised that I'd also forgotten their names.
I'll tell you now: I'm really, really appalling with names. As soon as I meet someone I warn them of this. Lots of people claim they're bad with names, but really, they're not too bad and just putting a polite disclaimer in, just in case. No, my brain forcibly ejects names from my mind like a pilot from a failing aircraft, often within a matter of seconds of being told someone's name, and then I have to be told several times over and over again afterwards. I try really, really hard, I honestly do, and it's certainly nothing personal- but I've always been like this. I used to dread being made to give out everyone's workbooks at school after the teacher had marked them because I couldn't remember which named book belonged to which classmate (particularly when our classes were 'disbanded' and we started mixing with other people from our year).
I explained this in hushed tones to my friend after she asked me if I was sure, and we hung back a bit to allow my former school peers to get a head start once they left the shop. After a few minutes passed, we (cautiously) emerged.
"Did you see which way they went?" I asked nervously.
"Yes, I think they went in that direction." And Min-Hwee unwittingly pointed straight at my two former schoolmates, who were only a few yards away.
"Agh, they're right there!" We both spun around and started to walk in the other direction, to find it was a dead end. We faced another two directions: more dead ends! By now I was giggling almost hysterically at this ridiculous situation, and pretty sure they could now hear the nervous ruckus I was making.
Eventually my two former school peers headed off.
"Did you think they saw me?" I asked.
"Well... one of them actually looked straight at you at one point- I'm pretty sure they did."
This calmed me down a bit. Surely if they saw me, recognised me and actually wanted to come over and say hi, they would, right? But they didn't- just like me. Maybe because they were in the same predicament and didn't remember my name and knew we weren't really close at school. Or, more embarrassingly, they sensed my unease and felt put off by my perhaps-obvious awkwardness.
I actually remember one of their names now- but I won't write it down, just in case they ever read this blog. Yes, I'm that freaking awkward.
~Fin~
 | ||||
| Totally free, you can come in, choose a book and sit down for a good read, or you can bring in an old book of yours to leave and take another away. |
You're also encouraged to leave a note for another reader to find. So Min-Hwee and I went in on a mini-quest to find a book with a note.
Min-Hwee found one on her first try- a really old book (can't remember what it was) with the message 'Take care of yourself'' pencilled in on the inside of the front cover. It took me a while to find a book with a message, but when I did it was a good one.
This was the book I picked up:
 |
| I actually have this book too: it's an amazing bit of non-fiction. |
Both Min-Hwee and I are Chinese (well, I'm half-Chinese, to be exact), so we found it pretty funny.
Now to the awkward near-encounter... at the time, ironically, my friend and I were talking about who we still kept in contact with from our old school, and who we'd bumped into recently. We were in a shop when she suddenly pointed and said,
"Look, that girl was from our school! Wasn't she in your year?"
I looked around, and noticed the girl- two of them together in fact- were indeed from my year, if not from my class.
"Should we go say hello to them?" Min-Hwee asked.
"No!!" I suddenly felt a bit panicked: I'd never really been on speaking terms with these two at school so I felt like it would be a bit fake to go over and be all friendly and 'hiiii I haven't seen you in aaaaages' etc. etc. And to my further horror, I realised that I'd also forgotten their names.
I'll tell you now: I'm really, really appalling with names. As soon as I meet someone I warn them of this. Lots of people claim they're bad with names, but really, they're not too bad and just putting a polite disclaimer in, just in case. No, my brain forcibly ejects names from my mind like a pilot from a failing aircraft, often within a matter of seconds of being told someone's name, and then I have to be told several times over and over again afterwards. I try really, really hard, I honestly do, and it's certainly nothing personal- but I've always been like this. I used to dread being made to give out everyone's workbooks at school after the teacher had marked them because I couldn't remember which named book belonged to which classmate (particularly when our classes were 'disbanded' and we started mixing with other people from our year).
I explained this in hushed tones to my friend after she asked me if I was sure, and we hung back a bit to allow my former school peers to get a head start once they left the shop. After a few minutes passed, we (cautiously) emerged.
"Did you see which way they went?" I asked nervously.
"Yes, I think they went in that direction." And Min-Hwee unwittingly pointed straight at my two former schoolmates, who were only a few yards away.
"Agh, they're right there!" We both spun around and started to walk in the other direction, to find it was a dead end. We faced another two directions: more dead ends! By now I was giggling almost hysterically at this ridiculous situation, and pretty sure they could now hear the nervous ruckus I was making.
Eventually my two former school peers headed off.
"Did you think they saw me?" I asked.
"Well... one of them actually looked straight at you at one point- I'm pretty sure they did."
This calmed me down a bit. Surely if they saw me, recognised me and actually wanted to come over and say hi, they would, right? But they didn't- just like me. Maybe because they were in the same predicament and didn't remember my name and knew we weren't really close at school. Or, more embarrassingly, they sensed my unease and felt put off by my perhaps-obvious awkwardness.
I actually remember one of their names now- but I won't write it down, just in case they ever read this blog. Yes, I'm that freaking awkward.
~Fin~
Friday, 9 November 2012
A Pseudo-Cinderella Evening
What's more awkward than sharpening your blunt-from-lack-of-practice flirting skills on a cheeky barrista in a coffee shop? Flirting with the barrista and suddenly realising your mother is watching you disapprovingly.
After work yesterday, my mum asked me if I'd be interested in going to a special screening of the opera Tosca at Vue Westfield. I was there in a flash- I love opera, I love cinema, and I've always wanted to go to one of the interesting functions my mum often gets to go to as part of her job (she works for a media production and promotion company). I also saw it as an opportunity to practise my networking skills- I'm a keen writer, but I'm quite a clumsy conversationlist at times because my brain often works faster than my mouth is able to formulate the right words. So, feeling relieved that I always dress well for work anyway and was already wearing a nice dress and boots, I made my way there.
I met mum at the Starbucks near the station there, and went up to grab a hot chocolate, and ended up chatting/ flirting lightheartedly with the barrista guy before remember that my mum was sat right behind me, and was quite opening staring at us. I was all the more mortified when it came to paying and my well-meaning mum suddenly called me and thrust a handful of money in my direction (which I very politely declined, laughing 'thanks, don't worry about it' but dying a bit inside at the same time). At least the barrista guy seemed to appreciate the fact that I stacked everything up neatly before we moved on- having worked in catering before I always make a point of trying to make serving staff's lives as easy as possible.
The rest of the evening was quite surreal- there I was in the posh part of the cinema, smartly dressed and sipping glasses of champagne, eating tiny canapes and schmoozing with other guests (making a joke of the fact that I was only a 'plus one' and that my mum was really the one in the media industry, but no-one seemed to mind), and then going on to see an opera, albeit on screen. At one point I rather inelegantly sent a chunk of feta cheese flying whilst gesturing wildly, which was quite embarrassing (I cleaned it up myself- again, less work for the waiting staff), but far worse embarrassing things have happened to me, so it didn't bother me too much, so it didn't bother anyone else either (I hope).
I think I made a good (read: at very least memorable..!) impression, on the whole, even if I never meet any of these people again. One guy likened me to Katniss from the Hunger Games when me doing archery somehow came into the conversation,which was slightly amusing in an ironic way, seeing as I'd met someone a few days ago who reminded me of Peeta Mellark from the movie version (see my previous entry). Anyway, it was great fun getting to know different people and with just the right amount of glamour without me feeling ridiculous and out of place, and I could get used to that sort of life- although I know it was a one-off. I felt like Cinderella, going around talking to Important People at an Exclusive Event, going home by midnight. In any case, I've definitely come a long way in terms of being able to go around a room and talk to strangers by myself, and I hope I can only get better.
I also hope I get better at keeping small cubes of cheese on little blinis as opposed to on the floor, too.
~Fin~
Afterword: I wrote a short article about Vue cinema's campaign to bring opera to the silver screen and make it more accessible to the masses, I'll post a link or something when I figure out where to publish it.
After work yesterday, my mum asked me if I'd be interested in going to a special screening of the opera Tosca at Vue Westfield. I was there in a flash- I love opera, I love cinema, and I've always wanted to go to one of the interesting functions my mum often gets to go to as part of her job (she works for a media production and promotion company). I also saw it as an opportunity to practise my networking skills- I'm a keen writer, but I'm quite a clumsy conversationlist at times because my brain often works faster than my mouth is able to formulate the right words. So, feeling relieved that I always dress well for work anyway and was already wearing a nice dress and boots, I made my way there.
I met mum at the Starbucks near the station there, and went up to grab a hot chocolate, and ended up chatting/ flirting lightheartedly with the barrista guy before remember that my mum was sat right behind me, and was quite opening staring at us. I was all the more mortified when it came to paying and my well-meaning mum suddenly called me and thrust a handful of money in my direction (which I very politely declined, laughing 'thanks, don't worry about it' but dying a bit inside at the same time). At least the barrista guy seemed to appreciate the fact that I stacked everything up neatly before we moved on- having worked in catering before I always make a point of trying to make serving staff's lives as easy as possible.
The rest of the evening was quite surreal- there I was in the posh part of the cinema, smartly dressed and sipping glasses of champagne, eating tiny canapes and schmoozing with other guests (making a joke of the fact that I was only a 'plus one' and that my mum was really the one in the media industry, but no-one seemed to mind), and then going on to see an opera, albeit on screen. At one point I rather inelegantly sent a chunk of feta cheese flying whilst gesturing wildly, which was quite embarrassing (I cleaned it up myself- again, less work for the waiting staff), but far worse embarrassing things have happened to me, so it didn't bother me too much, so it didn't bother anyone else either (I hope).
I think I made a good (read: at very least memorable..!) impression, on the whole, even if I never meet any of these people again. One guy likened me to Katniss from the Hunger Games when me doing archery somehow came into the conversation,which was slightly amusing in an ironic way, seeing as I'd met someone a few days ago who reminded me of Peeta Mellark from the movie version (see my previous entry). Anyway, it was great fun getting to know different people and with just the right amount of glamour without me feeling ridiculous and out of place, and I could get used to that sort of life- although I know it was a one-off. I felt like Cinderella, going around talking to Important People at an Exclusive Event, going home by midnight. In any case, I've definitely come a long way in terms of being able to go around a room and talk to strangers by myself, and I hope I can only get better.
I also hope I get better at keeping small cubes of cheese on little blinis as opposed to on the floor, too.
~Fin~
Afterword: I wrote a short article about Vue cinema's campaign to bring opera to the silver screen and make it more accessible to the masses, I'll post a link or something when I figure out where to publish it.
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