Angst Warning!
Feb. 28th, 2005 11:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lily_handmaidenI'm in a fairly introspective mood right now. Sometimes I feel like I'm not doing this whole thing right. You know, the Whole Thing. I grew up with nobody my age to play with, so I made my own entertainment. Sometimes the girls who lived on my grandma's street would do stupid things that kids do and laugh at me. So I learned that the only friends I had were myself and whatever was in my imagination. I lived inside books. I got made fun of behind my back in elementary school for it, and the worst part about that is that I never even knew about it until middle school. I've never had a huge number of friends, and I rarely did things outside of school with my high school friends. I didn't go to prom, or any high school dance, for that matter. At college I don't go to parties or screw around much. I do my homework. I study. The satisfaction I get out of that is a certain smugness about my 4.0 GPA when so many people are dropping out and transferring and losing scholarships because "it's so hard" and their grades suck. The down side is I know I'm missing this whole side of life, and I don't know if it's something I particularly want to experience, but it's there. It's like that morbid desire for a broken limb or a bee sting from a kid who has never had either. Me. That's me, too. I haven't had a boyfriend in five years. And it's not because I don't want one, I do. I'm just so internally focused that I never do much of anything about it.
I live the greater part of my life inside my head. "My inner world is bigger than my outer one," someone once said. [See, I say this as if I don't know who said it. I know exactly who said it. John Cage, on Ally McBeal. There. This is the kind of person I am; I remember this stuff.] "My inner world is bigger than my outer one." That's me all over. And most of the time it doesn't bother me. Most of the time, I'm happy with it that way. I've learned to live independently, without really *needing* too many other people. But that doesn't mean I don't want them.
Everybody who comes here is wonderful, don't think I'm making any implications. This is a horrible venting session that I shouldn't be inflicting on the world at large. It's a journal entry, the type of thing I said on this very LJ not too long ago I don't feel comfortable putting on the internet. But with the people who do read this, I feel comfortable. It won't happen too often, don't get used to it.
The thing is, my range of experience is so limited and my world is so small, that I am very often a very inadequate friend. I know this. People talk to me and tell me things-- I can't even fathom why-- and I appreciate that they feel they can, but then I never know what to say. I have a horrible tendency to smile in tense situations because I put myself outside of them and realize how ludicrous the whole thing seems, or might seem to someone else, or under different circumstances. Like, if it wasn't serious. I cannot give advice. Not good advice. I know what I ought to say in a sort of mental script way, and I can commiserate, but beyond that I'm useless. Having problems with your boyfriend? Haha, don't come to me, I know nothing I haven't seen on TV. I have trouble reaching out to people. I want to help them, and I can't. And it's frustrating-- sometimes it frustrates me to tears. I want to fix everybody's problems, but really all I can do is listen. I can do that. I excel at that. You could vent to me for as long as you want and I'd listen and nod and make sympathetic noises. And I'd make them because I meant them, not just to be polite.
I've been really lucky. Nothing in my life has been horrible. I feel so fortunate. But the thing with that is that it makes small problems seem very big to me. Things that aren't even important-- fan things, things like the things that go on this journal, to be honest. And sometimes I'll catch somebody on a bad day and they'll tell me to shut up and let it go, it's "not that deep." Yeah, that's a direct quote from one such instance. I have a good memory. And I guess I may be a shallow person. I try not to be, I have feelings, and I do worry about big things-- maybe more than some people who have had horrible things happen because I have that much more to lose. I just don't talk about them. Because I might get laughed at. Because peole don't understand.
I don't talk about those little things to a lot of people for much the same reason. I've been laughed at and made fun of by people who just don't understand. I've always had these things, I realize now, from the time I was four and completely into Peter Pan. I have an obsessive personality. It's like OCD without the compulsion. That's a bit dramatic, I admit. But I can't turn it off. I don't think I'd want to. It means I have a killer memory and attention span, for one thing. And it's fun. It keeps me imaginative. And it's a defense mechanism. It shields me, to some extent, from the harshness of the world.
When I feel comfortable with people, I can let them into that little bit. I can start to talk about the dumb fangirly things. I try not to go too far, I consciously restrain myself sometimes. But I know I'm not always successful and I annoy people. I'm sorry to those people. (God bless Marten, by the way, who once said that I almost always stop before it gets too annoying. You're golden.) But when they snap at me like that, when they tell me that these things don't matter... well, yes they do. To me. And I trusted you not to be hostile about them or irritated or whatever by them.
So it's really rare that I get to the point where I can talk to someone about those "real" things. I internalize a lot and then I vent, a lot like I'm doing now. Either by journal or by just yelling at my bedroom walls.
Let's see, I had a point somewhere up there.
Oh, yeah.
So, here I sit, longing to experience this "real life" I hear so much about, but afraid to jump out into it.
You know what, though? I've met some of the most amazing people. I can bring them into my world, because to some extent they get it. And they make me feel okay about it. I have always been determined to never completely grow up. Maybe that's part of this, somewhere. It probably is. And so, while much of the world doesn't... look, another "Ally" quote: "Are we just a joke to the outside world?" "The outside world just doesn't get the joke."
There. I've found a whole bunch of people who get the joke. Who aren't letting the world get them. A lot of them don't stay. I've lost quite a few, because they get too busy, they grow up, and the little things don't matter at all anymore. They should always matter a little, I think. But they stop seeing them. They stop believing in magic in the world, or else they just don't have time to think about it. It sneaks up on you, and then suddenly you're one of Them. You're a respectable adult, just like everyone else. And you don't want to come into my little pretend world anymore. And it makes me sad. I refuse to run out there and catch up with you. I believe I don't have to, in order to survive as an adult-type person. I can just be a romantic. But a few people have hung back with me. Or at least touched back every now and then. And I love every single one of you.
But I do get sort of lonely, sometimes. It can get kind of lonely when you create worlds, and then suddenly you're the only one left in them. So I want to do all those real things. Those "normal" things. Some of them, anyway. I want to have a foot in both worlds, and I have to learn how to make it happen. I haven't quite gotten it yet, but I will.
So thanks, if you've read this far. I'm kind of embarrassed. You can comment if you want, but never ever bring this up in conversation. I'll just pretend I don't know what you're talking about.
This started out as an entry on Compendium. The post I'm about to make? It was in the middle of that. But I realized about halfway through that it didn't go there. It was a journal thing, God help me. The point of this journal is to be a sort of compilation of things that I think about or that inspire me in a creative way. I guess it wouldn't really be complete without this little rant about my insecurities and doubts. And this isn't even my doubts about myself as a writer. I'll probably address some of those at some point, but nothing like this.
I promise never to do this again.
I live the greater part of my life inside my head. "My inner world is bigger than my outer one," someone once said. [See, I say this as if I don't know who said it. I know exactly who said it. John Cage, on Ally McBeal. There. This is the kind of person I am; I remember this stuff.] "My inner world is bigger than my outer one." That's me all over. And most of the time it doesn't bother me. Most of the time, I'm happy with it that way. I've learned to live independently, without really *needing* too many other people. But that doesn't mean I don't want them.
Everybody who comes here is wonderful, don't think I'm making any implications. This is a horrible venting session that I shouldn't be inflicting on the world at large. It's a journal entry, the type of thing I said on this very LJ not too long ago I don't feel comfortable putting on the internet. But with the people who do read this, I feel comfortable. It won't happen too often, don't get used to it.
The thing is, my range of experience is so limited and my world is so small, that I am very often a very inadequate friend. I know this. People talk to me and tell me things-- I can't even fathom why-- and I appreciate that they feel they can, but then I never know what to say. I have a horrible tendency to smile in tense situations because I put myself outside of them and realize how ludicrous the whole thing seems, or might seem to someone else, or under different circumstances. Like, if it wasn't serious. I cannot give advice. Not good advice. I know what I ought to say in a sort of mental script way, and I can commiserate, but beyond that I'm useless. Having problems with your boyfriend? Haha, don't come to me, I know nothing I haven't seen on TV. I have trouble reaching out to people. I want to help them, and I can't. And it's frustrating-- sometimes it frustrates me to tears. I want to fix everybody's problems, but really all I can do is listen. I can do that. I excel at that. You could vent to me for as long as you want and I'd listen and nod and make sympathetic noises. And I'd make them because I meant them, not just to be polite.
I've been really lucky. Nothing in my life has been horrible. I feel so fortunate. But the thing with that is that it makes small problems seem very big to me. Things that aren't even important-- fan things, things like the things that go on this journal, to be honest. And sometimes I'll catch somebody on a bad day and they'll tell me to shut up and let it go, it's "not that deep." Yeah, that's a direct quote from one such instance. I have a good memory. And I guess I may be a shallow person. I try not to be, I have feelings, and I do worry about big things-- maybe more than some people who have had horrible things happen because I have that much more to lose. I just don't talk about them. Because I might get laughed at. Because peole don't understand.
I don't talk about those little things to a lot of people for much the same reason. I've been laughed at and made fun of by people who just don't understand. I've always had these things, I realize now, from the time I was four and completely into Peter Pan. I have an obsessive personality. It's like OCD without the compulsion. That's a bit dramatic, I admit. But I can't turn it off. I don't think I'd want to. It means I have a killer memory and attention span, for one thing. And it's fun. It keeps me imaginative. And it's a defense mechanism. It shields me, to some extent, from the harshness of the world.
When I feel comfortable with people, I can let them into that little bit. I can start to talk about the dumb fangirly things. I try not to go too far, I consciously restrain myself sometimes. But I know I'm not always successful and I annoy people. I'm sorry to those people. (God bless Marten, by the way, who once said that I almost always stop before it gets too annoying. You're golden.) But when they snap at me like that, when they tell me that these things don't matter... well, yes they do. To me. And I trusted you not to be hostile about them or irritated or whatever by them.
So it's really rare that I get to the point where I can talk to someone about those "real" things. I internalize a lot and then I vent, a lot like I'm doing now. Either by journal or by just yelling at my bedroom walls.
Let's see, I had a point somewhere up there.
Oh, yeah.
So, here I sit, longing to experience this "real life" I hear so much about, but afraid to jump out into it.
You know what, though? I've met some of the most amazing people. I can bring them into my world, because to some extent they get it. And they make me feel okay about it. I have always been determined to never completely grow up. Maybe that's part of this, somewhere. It probably is. And so, while much of the world doesn't... look, another "Ally" quote: "Are we just a joke to the outside world?" "The outside world just doesn't get the joke."
There. I've found a whole bunch of people who get the joke. Who aren't letting the world get them. A lot of them don't stay. I've lost quite a few, because they get too busy, they grow up, and the little things don't matter at all anymore. They should always matter a little, I think. But they stop seeing them. They stop believing in magic in the world, or else they just don't have time to think about it. It sneaks up on you, and then suddenly you're one of Them. You're a respectable adult, just like everyone else. And you don't want to come into my little pretend world anymore. And it makes me sad. I refuse to run out there and catch up with you. I believe I don't have to, in order to survive as an adult-type person. I can just be a romantic. But a few people have hung back with me. Or at least touched back every now and then. And I love every single one of you.
But I do get sort of lonely, sometimes. It can get kind of lonely when you create worlds, and then suddenly you're the only one left in them. So I want to do all those real things. Those "normal" things. Some of them, anyway. I want to have a foot in both worlds, and I have to learn how to make it happen. I haven't quite gotten it yet, but I will.
So thanks, if you've read this far. I'm kind of embarrassed. You can comment if you want, but never ever bring this up in conversation. I'll just pretend I don't know what you're talking about.
This started out as an entry on Compendium. The post I'm about to make? It was in the middle of that. But I realized about halfway through that it didn't go there. It was a journal thing, God help me. The point of this journal is to be a sort of compilation of things that I think about or that inspire me in a creative way. I guess it wouldn't really be complete without this little rant about my insecurities and doubts. And this isn't even my doubts about myself as a writer. I'll probably address some of those at some point, but nothing like this.
I promise never to do this again.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-03-01 10:32 am (UTC)-Jonah
no subject
Date: 2005-03-01 11:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-01 01:16 pm (UTC)You don't have to apologize for occasional introspection. This sort of thing is usually good, and I like hearing you talk/write about it. I know a bit about your feelings about fantasy worlds getting in the way of life, and maybe you've got the right idea in wanting to find a balance. That couldn't hurt.
But your fantasy worlds and obsessions are why I think you're a great person. I'm sorry if there are people who tell you those things aren't important. They just don't understand. I'm surprised that you think you're shallow; that's just not something I've ever seen in you.
Sorry if you're lonely. I know how it feels.
Talk to you later! (Hugs)
<3 Alicia
no subject
Date: 2005-03-01 06:20 pm (UTC)(hugs back)
no subject
Date: 2005-03-01 03:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-01 06:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-04 08:03 am (UTC)And never underestimate the importance of just listening.
no subject
Date: 2005-03-09 12:26 pm (UTC)