I feel like a lot of these Blogtober posts have started with me putting out the disclaimer that I am an introvert. And as much as I want to apologize for the repetition, I also understand that I need it for context. Moreover, what am I even apologizing for? For a part of myself? For being me? So, I’ll keep my introductions as they are, thank you very much. In fact, I’ll start off this blog post by talking about how much of an awkward introvert I am. Like I said before: context setting is important.
The degree of introversion within me is inexplicably high, really. Coupled with me being an awkward social person, this kind of destroys some good things as they come about. It’s gotten a little better as an adult, but I’m still the same awkward introvert as I was as a five-year-old. I’ll even give you examples for this.
As a child, I was deathly scared of interaction even with my dad’s friends who came visiting. Relatives were fine. But anyone other than that would trigger silence in me. I mean, I was a generally quiet child, but visits saw a whole more intense side of me. I had to be prodded to talk to them, to answer their questions. Sometimes, it was fear of offending my parents, of making them look like they hadn’t taught me anything, that made me open my mouth and talk. And more often than not, it was some droll stuff that came out.
As I grew up, I made friends but even with them I was awkward. The topics that I was passionate about, nobody else was. And I didn’t want to talk about it when no one was interested. Seriously, nobody likes it when someone drones on and on about a topic that doesn’t hold common interest. I once narrated an incident that had happened to me which I found really funny and got mocked and laughed at. Given, they were my friends, but I think that was the point where I started questioning everything I told my friends. It was like a smack to my face. Even now, if I’m narrating something, I’m questioning myself every step of the way. I can’t tell you the kind of relief that fills me when the person I’m talking to actually listens and responds without mocking me. It’s another matter that I make fun of myself, too. Perhaps it stems from that incident.
Either way, I just wish I could talk clearly without going in circles. I just wish I could tell a story without boring the group. I just wish I wouldn’t panic and say stuff that I would regret later. Not because it’s wrong, but because it has no connection with the conversation whatsoever, just because my mouth decided to have no connection with my brain at the exact time that my whole personality was in danger. ‘Personality.’ Heh.
This awkwardness, this introversion meant that I grew up on books. Sitting in a secluded corner, reading a book and getting pissed off if someone interrupted me, devouring the books as we got them – this was my whole childhood. I began to dream of meeting the authors of these books. I began to dream of meeting actors, as every teenager does. I began to dream of hobnobbing with the literary elite in the most prestigious ways. Oh, I had these dreams.
But I’ve begun to realize that that’s probably not going to happen. Not because fate doesn’t have it in mind for me or anything. Maybe it does, maybe it doesn’t. I don’t really care. But because of me. Let me tell you why.
About three years ago, we went to watch a play, which at the time was a dream come true. We then waited outside the theater because we were told that the actors would come and meet the audience. When one of the leads did come out and approached the place where we were standing – mind you, they were merely in the vicinity – I panicked and stepped back, tongue-tied, and pushed my husband – also an introvert – forward. Because what would I say to him? I would just stare, really.
This incident, not at all an important one in the grand scheme of things, made me realize that for me, saying, “Oh, I want to meet my favorite authors! I’d love to meet my favorite artists! I have so much to speak to them! I would do anything for an opportunity to meet them!” is all well and fine. But what would I speak? I would just go on gushing about whatever their work was that made me fall in love with them and make them super uncomfortable and the whole situation awkward. They would have heard it a million times before, but I’d just make it worse, I think. XD
Starting a YouTube channel is all good. But there are conditions to it, too. I am very particular about how I film my videos – I do not want anyone in the room unless I’m filming some random clip for a vlog. I panic and can’t talk straight if the room isn’t empty. I mean, I still can’t talk straight, but at least I’m confident when I’m filming alone. I’m not ashamed of putting my bloopers out there, but there’s something about making bloopers in front of people that gets to me. Maybe it’s just lack of practice, maybe it’s just me, or maybe it’s a combination of the two.
Still, there are so many things that I edit out in my videos. Liveshows are a different ballgame altogether because there’s no scope for editing. I love doing them but there have been times when I’ve done liveshows with friends, gone back to watch them, and smacked myself in the head because of how awkward I was. I mean, it’s fine and all, no regrets. But just think: if I’m like this with friends, how am I going to be with people I haven’t met? With people I admire? Authors? Artists? How am I going to be with strangers? That’s 80% of the reason why I still haven’t made any friends in Sydney here.
So, after all this, I’m really not sure I’m going to meet my favorite authors and artists. Because I’m an awkward introvert. I mean, I’m not saying I’ll never meet them. All I’m saying is that if I find the opportunity, I’ll probably panic and create a whole lot of mess in the process before backing out and ending up not meeting them. Until then, I’m better off behind a book and a couple of screens.
My life and times, people. My life and times.
Drop a comment down below if you have anything similar to share or just to say hi even. I’d love to hear from you! 😊
I’ll see you in tomorrow’s Blogtober post.
Until next time, keep reading, keep watching, and add melodrama to your life! ❤
2 thoughts on “Why I Might Never Meet My Favorite Authors or Artists | #Blogtober22 – Day 21”
Reblogged this on keyboardcritic.