Sometimes I wonder if I'm really socially inept or I'm not arrogant enough. Sure, I'm afraid of putting my foot in my mouth (I often do, that's why people always look at me funny) and I'm intimidated by people who walk around with their nose in the air and jab emphatically, "Go do this!" but I rarely physically back down.
Sometimes I wonder if I'm really invisible. I open my mouth and say something, but someone else has to verbally bulldoze me. Should I continue talking so that there's a confusing babble? Or should I begin talking even louder, turning myself into a screaming fishwife? I wouldn't think listeners would find it very polite.
The problem is, I'm not very aggressive. If you know me in person, you wouldn't give me a second thought. My parents tell me I should act more aggressively so it would be easier to get my way with other people but that's just simply not me. Sometimes I half-heartedly try, but the image of maniacal Jerry Springer guests always comes back to haunt me.
For some reason I don't believe aggressiveness is a civilized trait. Maybe I'm being too idealistic. Or maybe I've sat through too many conversations where a pompous airhead spewed mindlessly. There were times when I jumped into a conversation and the whole thing just stalled. Maybe I chose the wrong topic.
I wonder if my lack of grade school friends had anything to do with it.
Links: Looking Back at the Days of the Locust. (via Charles Murtaugh) Perhaps one reason locusts (and similar "pests") are studied so little is that they don't appeal to everyone. Out of control mosquitoes and fire ants provoke most people to break out the destructive chemicals instead of their magnifying glass. I liked the last bit of the article though--it has a creepy feel to it. Who wouldn't want to find out if the locusts are just simply hiding out until the good times roll around again? Locusts in Afghanistan. Maybe they're hiding out here.
