Testing one, two…testing one, two…is this thing on?
¡Muy bien! Let’s dust off these cobwebs, shall we?
Welcome back, folks, to the Confessions.
And no, your GReader isn’t playing tricks on you.
For those of you who’ve had the distinct pleasure of talking to me, you are well aware that I will say anything. Well more like my mental filter is just very selective in how it wants to work. I will be the first one to get people to laugh in an awkward silence. Those of have ever talked to me on Skype, Google Video, the phone, or in person probably realized quickly that I am just a wee bit of a motor mouth.
Yet despite all my love of talking, I suck at meeting people.
Oh sure I can go up to someone and introduce myself but I always feel anxious. Like I always feel like I’m bothering people by talking to them. Maybe it is just the last shades of my inner shy child but it always happens whenever I meet someone new.
Even online, I do this. I’ll get on Gmail or Skype (if you haven’t added me yet, for shame) and see people who I would love to talk to are on but I just freeze up. Some time I will actually open the conversation box and just stare at it because I have no idea what to say or how to get a conversation started. It’s like in middle school when I was still at Big Bang Theory-levels of social awkwardness.
Then comes the actual starting a friendship and where 95% of my anxiety stems from. I was pretty much an outcast (very very much not by choice) until high school and even now at 23, I still sometimes wonder if people are actually my friends. Yeah, I know that’s a common fear but so far as I can tell, not many others have this thought immediately.
I generally follow a few steps: I meet someone. Whether at a store, train, in class, at work, and find myself in a conversation with them. This happens repeatedly. I start hanging out with them purposefully. But I still hear that voice in my head going “what if they are just humoring me to be polite?”
I hate being alone.
Abhor it. Loathe it. Despite it.
I thrive on having someone to talk to. It’s like giving a starving man a feast. Without the GI issues, of course. And I’d be lying if the thought of going back to that does not fill me with dread.
Is this fear unhealthy? As long as I’m not going to insane lengths to keep people in my life, I would think not. But I’ve never really been one for denial so might as well get it out there. Considering how many people in the past year alone, I’ve cut out of my life for various personal reasons I think I am OK on this front.
Or so I hope.
The people who are all ready my friends, and have proven so time and again, deserve better from me.
Time to give it to them.
Last time on The Confessions of an Odd Duck:
In the past few years, I have been able to track my pattern where women are concerned.
Boy meets Girl.
Boy and Girl become good friends over time.
Boy and Girl jokingly flirt.
Boy twigs that Girl may not be joking.
Boy freaks out, broods, waffles on whether to do something about it.
Girl informs Boy he is being an idiot. Kissing may be used.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
With the exception of Scarlett, this is how EVERY SINGLE ONE of my relationships has gone.
Boy Meets Girl.
Boy and Girl realize the other is their snarky match.
They antagonize each other for a few weeks like 1st graders.
Boy and Girl find out they both like Call of Duty.
Girl makes Boy her bitch.
Boy and Girl bond over video games.
Girl has her tires slashed and quite a bit is stolen. Boy is called to pick her up.
Boy stays with Girl as she has mild breakdown.
Girl officially declares Boy one of her best friends.
When Boy’s roommate disappears after they get into a fist fight, Girl and her roommate largely take him in.
When Boy discovers his girlfriend had been cheating on him, Girl is the first to try and help him through it.
Boy realizes he might have feelings for Girl. He fights it completely.
Boy and Girl rent a house together.
Boy plays matchmaker for Girl.
Boy and Girl feel like they have lived together for years come Christmas.
Boy and Girl go to New York where Girl’s old roommate cottons on to how Boy might feel.
Girl seems to be flirting with Boy. Boy is terribly confused.
During a spring break trip to Cancun, Girl and Boy own up to how they both feel.
And now here we are. Those of you who saw the post yesterday or cottoned on to what I was talking about on Twitter, your eyes were not deceiving you.
Am I young? Yes. Am I financially stable? Yes. Am I emotionally stable? Against all odds, yes. Do I see us being compatible enough to make this kind of commitment? Hell yes.
My entire life I have always wondered if I am going enough for things. Second-guessing myself has long been second nature here. But I am self-aware enough to acknowledge that I can and do make her happy. During a conversation over coffee with Pippi, I admitted out loud how close I was to at least buying the ring, she questioned why I hadn’t all ready.
This woman knows me better than 95% of the people in my life. Nine years of friendship probably helps. So to hear that from her shouldn’t have surprised me even if it did.
She pointed out how I’m less flighty with Scarlett. How her edges seem to soften with me. How fiercely we go to bat for each other. How we are utterly unafraid to piss the other off if we think they are wrong. How open we are with each other. How we like to just spend time together. She closed by saying that we act, and have for a long time, like any happily married couple she could think of.
And as I thought about that, I reviewed our relationship since those first days in Chapel Hill, and realized she was absolutely right.
I want this. I want my life to be with her. I want to wake up at 70, look over, and see her sleeping next to me.
Hence why Sunday afternoon saw me roping Marilyn into helping me pick out a ring. And why Monday had me calling her parents for That Talk.
But various heartbreaks have beaten caution into me. I remember how happy I was with both Tink and Eva. I remember how those both ended, even if Tink was entirely my fault. I am trying to let my mind rule for a bit over my heart and if you know me, you know how hard that is. Looking before I leap does NOT come naturally.
That is why I am waiting on popping the question. Really do not want to imagine how it would feel to get turned down on that one. It’s no longer a question of “if” but “when”.
But, like the optimist I somehow am, I see the silver lining here.
This delay gives me time to plot how to do this.
Because after this tweet from A Mom In Real Life, I feel like there may be a challenge here. I have a few bare-bones ideas but nothing remotely concrete. Over the next few months, I am probably going to be asking you all for advice on how to do things. Especially our tech savvy bloggers.
After all, anything worth doing is worth doing right.
*Half the title of this post is directly lifted from the lovely Jeney. Who if you hadn’t congratulated her on her engagement yet, you should. Now.
And finally, summer’s over.
Fall is here and all ready the weather seems to have changed. Gone are the almost unbroken days of sunshine. Gone are the random heat waves that push the thermostat into the high 90’s.
Autumn has always been about changes in my life.
2006: I was starting at UF, hundreds of miles from anyone I had ever met.
2007: I was at the lowest point in my life and would stay there for almost a year. Suicide is passingly contemplated and thankfully never attempted.
2008: I started at UNC-Chapel Hill, slowly regaining my self-worth, and amazed to find that despite my every fear of having kids my girlfriend’s daughter saw me as her “Papa” and that the feeling was increasingly mutual. I have my first internship working with a group of lovably insane 6 year-olds. I also work at a restaurant again for the first time since I was 17. I start a little website.
2009: I rent my first house. I have another teaching internship; this time at a local high school. My time of mild whoring around begins.
And now in 2010, well the biggest change here is something I’ll talk about later this week or next depending on how much free time I have to write about it. It has to do with this.
Time to break out the apple cider and the hot chocolate. Time to break out the pumpkin pie. Time to break out the Halloween decorations. Time to break out the jeans and jackets, the hats and scarves.
Welcome back, Autumn.
You took your sweet time getting here.
Some of you like Mindy, Christie, and Mich have been around since my early days and others came around as I started coming out of my shell on 20SB and Twitter.
For those who wondered about my long internet siesta, well, yeah my line about being swamped by real life is very much true. The underlying reason?
I’m tired y’all.
While yes I did start the Confessions back in ’08 as a sort of online diary, I don’t have the narcissism or motivation to write about the trivialities of my day for much longer. Example, I have a post discussing my real first impressions of New York City from my neighbourhood to the people in my building to my job to the food nearby. Dragging would be a definite understatement here. If I don’t find it interesting, then I see no reason why any of you should.
My life just isn’t that interesting.
Is there drama? Sure, I’m a 22 year-old living with his girlfriend in a New York apartment while juggling grad school and work. Bombs everywhere but without some blogging niche, my posts are usually just random musings sprinkling liberally with pop culture references and comma abuse or the occasional serious emotional post like issues stemming from rape or body image or racism.
Don’t get me wrong though. I still love to write but blogging lost a bit of its appeal last summer after so long away from it and I don’t think it’s coming back.
And yet writing my New Moon review was a blast even with such a horrible movie and ever since then I’ve been wanting to do more of them. Were it not for the fact that most of my free time was spent with friends or dealing with my whoring around, I would have.
Here was something that (to my knowledge) no one was really doing in the 20SB crowd. Sure some people do book reviews but movies were pretty much an untapped resource of comedy gold. Here was a way for me to forge my own way through the blogosphere instead of just another face in the personal blogger crowd.
Fact of the matter is that, frankly, I’m not great at telling stories about my personal life. After a long conversation with Scarlett, I did start to edit what I wrote about people here as I did have a cousin find this and it’s just easier if relatives have no ammunition against me. That and the fact that my humour is mostly snark, in-jokes, over-the-top expressions/gesturing and semi-obscure pop culture references makes it rather difficult to make these events funny.
So I think it’s time to retire this blog. The Kendall who started was unsure of himself and at times a bit needy and thankfully I’ve grown past that person. I’ll still use GMail, Twitter, and the 20SB forums. I’ll still be reading and commenting on your blogs. Just need to cut my ties here and see what happens without this dying weight.
This site will remain online until I can have my new idea up and running so don’t expect anything before December. My green screen arrives Monday and I’ll buy the video editing software I need within the next month. Expect something epic.
Thanks to all of who you’ve been part of the ride thus far and I’ll hope you’ll come back to continue. You’re all fantastic.
This song is ending. But the story never ends.
Just like that will never leave.
So long kids and thanks for the fish.
As of this morning, I’ve been accepted to both.
Seriously Higher Education Gods? You want one of the most indecisive motherfuckers on the planet to choose where they’re going to spend the next 2-3+ years? I have trouble deciding what I want for dinner most nights.
And now the clock is ticking.
All I can say is that I all ready know and love New York City so LA? Need to see your A-Game when I come visit. You’ve got a lot of ground to recover.
Although I must admit that I find bears infinitely more awesome that a bobcat. And as I would feel nowhere near the bowel-voiding terror in front of a lynx, that is a point in UCLA’s favour.
As a Southerner, I have to think about which is more galling. Becoming a West Coaster or becoming a Yankee?
No, no contest there. The teasing I would have to endure from Tink alone decides it.
Lastly as Scarlett is heading to Stanford, being a mere 5 hour drive away instead of half way across the country is pretty damn appealing if I don’t say so myself.
*I honestly don’t know which to pick.
**No, I really would not live it up to a coin toss or the (mostly) rather silly reasons listed above. I’m not that stupid. I think. Give me alcohol and you might get a different answer.
There’s been a bit of talk around the blogosphere lately about how people don’t read blogs to hear about YOU. And of course, there is that old accusation of blogging cliques and how you have to develop a persona if you want to build any sort of friendships.
Folks, what you see here is what you get.
I try to be a nice person like most of us do.
The common mistake people make with that sentence is that they key in on the word nice and ignore everything else.
No dear friends, the key word there is try.
To give a bit of background, back when I was but a wee Kendall (ages 12-15) I didn’t give a fuck about anyone or anything. Guys wanted to start trouble? I’d say “let’s go.” I skived off more homework than I did even if I breezed through tests. It wasn’t so much that I ran with the wrong crowd as I pretty much told the world to piss off. It was also around this time that my mom realized I had issues, too bad it was kinda like water on the ashes from the bridge.
Obviously I grew out of that dark patch.
The kicker is that Bastard Kendall is still there, muffled but still there. He may have learned that loyalty is not a pipe dream. That empathy is not weakness. And that you can be a nice person.
I generally try and keep that part of me under lock and key. I like being the nice guy who tries to help everybody. Cynicism only leads to bad places and I’ve had enough of that for one lifetime. I like being the one who keeps others smiling with the off-the-wall things he says and does. I enjoy making people happy.
Doesn’t mean I will not tell someone where to get off.
I think it; I say it. That has always been my way.
The problem is that certain people apparently think that because I am so nice 99% of the time, they get the idea in their head that they can run roughshod all over me. In those times, I let the asshole out.
Basically I have three main modes.
1. ) If you’re my friend, you’re as good as family and there is almost nothing I won’t do for you. Need someone to cater your party but don’t have the cash? I’ve got you. Have editing you need? No problem. Flat tire? I’ll be out to you shortly.
2.) If I don’t know you, I’ll be friendly if a bit distant. You’ll get my normal snarkiness and a diluted form of my dirty humour.
3.) If I don’t like you, then expect apathy on my part unless you really need something. This whole guilt thing is still a bit too overwhelming at times I suppose.
Am I a good person? Yes. Am I a nice one? Eh, most of the time.
I am the guy who used to pop off at the wrong move and I am the one who goes gaga around any small child.
And I’ve learned to accept it.