Insecurity is one of those things everyone denies suffering from. Yet we all have to deal with it on some level. Every time one's beliefs are ridiculed, one's intelligence is defamed (after one makes a mistake, for example), or one receives a personal insult, even the most stalwart sense of self-esteem crumbles just a little.
Well, mine does, anyway.
Guess I must be a softy. Once, I was the most untouchable weirdo in my peer group. I didn't care one whit for what people said about me. I'd go sauntering through the playground in a camouflage jacket and a black top hat (styling myself "Mr. Different"), and all the insults and derisive hoots that were hurled at me just bounced right off.
And then, for some reason, I began to care what people think. Thus began the downhill slide. Nowadays I don't deal very well with criticism, nor belittlement. Soon as somebody says, "That's stupid, Andy," or "How can you not like Family Guy? You must be a Communist, Andy!" my soul shrivels up a little, and I feel a mysterious need to backpedal and void my previous assertions.
And in so doing, I want to backpedal again and reassert my previous assertions, because voiding them due to public opinion makes me feel like a spineless, obsequious, sniveling, slimy weed, bending whatever way the wind blows.
I have resolved to go back to utterly not caring about what other people think of me: particularly, what I do and the things I like. As I mentioned earlier, I'm something of a weirdo, you see.
Take In-N-Out, for example. In-N-Out is a fast-food burger chain native to California and the west coast. It's inordinately popular, particularly in Southern California. I've never liked the place much myself. The fries are too greasy, the decor is sterile white, and the burgers don't come up to the level of, say, Tom's, or even Carl's Junior.
But the moment I say that I don't like In-N-Out, no matter how large the group of friends I'm with is, the vote is unanimous. Jaws drop, eyes bug out, horrified gasps resound.
"What?!"
"How can you say that, Andy?"
"Have you even had In-N-Out?"
"Are you a Communist?"
"You're definitely un-American if you think that."
Some of you might be wondering Hey, how come this weasel gets so insecure over an issue as trivial as this? So his friends all disagree with him about which burger chain is superior. Big whoop. That's no reason for him to feel he needs to change his opinion to fit in.
Well, hold on a minute. You said it just now. It's not so much the issue at stake. It's the fact that all my friends disagree with me. All of them. That's bound to make any member of the group, particularly one whose acceptance is as iffy as mine, nervous. I was a social outcast my first year in high school, and was (and still am) so socially inept that I still wonder how I managed to garner any friends at all. My pals are incredibly valuable to me. I would have had a lonely, lonely time in high school if they hadn't seen fit to tolerate my weirdness. I'd like to keep running with this gang. So naturally, if it seems as if I'm about to alienate them (or even distance myself from them in any way, shape, or form, no matter how minor), I go on red alert.
Pretty pathetic, right?
It's not that I'm fundamentally weak-willed or mealy-mouthed. It's just that I've been out on the fringes for so long that I'm starting to get the idea that I might be off base after all. I've gotten so used to being the only person in the room who thinks a particular way that I'm beginning to believe I might be wrong. Now I realize that this is all just herd mentality. Just because no one sees eye-to-eye with me doesn't mean I'm the littlest man there.
So no more. I'm done being a sniveling weasel. I'm through cringing inside whenever somebody criticizes something I like or believe in. I'm done thinking that my beliefs are inferior to anyone else's just because I happen to be the only person who holds them. I'm through caring what other people think. From now on, it's just going to be me and my mind, laughing together at private jokes, starting two-member fan clubs for the most arcane and obscure bits of pop culture available, grinning at each other whenever another person's eyes bug out. I'm going to be more like George Bernard Shaw: I'll say what I think, be right most of the time, abhor the general lack of intelligence in others, and focus on offending as many people as possible.
Mr. Sulu! Activate the psycho-emotional armor!
But I can't leave it there. I've dropped a few hints but have not unveiled the full enchilada. I'm going to give you a complete rundown of my most controversial beliefs, opinions, likes, and wants, so you can judge for yourself how weird they are, and have an appropriate baseline to appraise your own. This is also a defiant scream. Each item listed here has earned me a disbelieving look, a disapproving comment, or a jaw-drop at least once. This is what I believe, world, and nobody's going to make me doubt myself anymore for believing in it. And we commence!
I hate vodka. Yes, I'm a mixologist. But still, I detest the stuff. Can't stand it. The only way I can stomach it is mixing it in cocktails, and even then, it's only good for its alcoholic content. Gee whiz, what's the point?
Capital punishment is a good thing. Violent criminals don't need to be helped. They don't need to be rehabilitated. They need to be killed. Removed from the gene pool. Sent to hell. Whatever you want to call it.
There is such a thing as "righteous war." When innocent people are suffering, when peace and injustice have gone to the dogs, when diplomatic relations have broken down, and economic sanctions have (finally) proven their impotence, it's the duty of the powerful, forthright, upstanding nations of the world (you know the ones I mean if you live there) to step in and take a military hand in matters. People say war is ugly, and that killing our fellow humans is the worst crime we've ever committed. I say, standing by and letting evil men take over and run things according to selfish whim is worse. I say, live and let die. And I also think rapists and child molesters ought to be castrated.
I'm an atheist. I don't believe in God. And when I say "I don't believe in God" I don't mean that I believe He exists but don't worship Him. I mean that I don't believe He exists, period. Apparently those are two different things now. Jesus may very well have existed, but I have serious doubts about his parentage. I've examined the evidence for both camps, read science books, attended numerous churches and church services, and made up my mind that a universe based on random chaos and the complete lack of any divine guidance just makes more sense. It's more logical to me, more believable. I keep an open mind, however. Given compelling evidence I might start believing that God exists. Don't know if I'd worship Him even then, though. I do believe that we humans know less than 0.001% about the way the universe works, and that there are things undoubtedly going on out there that science can't explain. That thought thrills me.
I have not seen American Pie, Forgetting Sarah Marshall, Superbad, Beerfest, or any other such raunchy, tasteless, obscene comedy. And I don't intend to, either.
I have not seen Mrs. Doubtfire, Dumb & Dumber, The Big Lebowski, and a lot of other films that everybody tells me are "essential." (Name another, I'll bet you I haven't seen it.) I suppose I will someday, though. Maybe. I have my own ideas about what constitutes "essential," thanks very much.
I am reading Little Women by Louisa May Alcott. I've discussed this before. People now doubt my sexual orientation. Apparently this is a "girl's book." I don't care. If it's a good book, I'll read it. (Romance novels don't count, of course; but this isn't a romance novel.) I'll bet LW is a grand book, too. And you're all missing out on it because you're worried that if you even touch this book you'll have to run and wash the gay off you or something. I'll bet you don't wear any purple, either. Your loss.
I just might put bourbon in my hip flask. Yes, yes, I know that's a cardinal sin. A real man would never keep anything but high-grade Scotch whisky or brandy in his hip flask. It could be worse, though. I haven't stuck any rum or vodka in there, and I don't intend to. I just thought bourbon might be a nice change. And I've got to do something progressive in my life. Maybe I'll start a new manly trend.
I despise Family Guy. And furthermore, I don't see how any right-thinking person couldn't. It's crass, vulgar, stupid, disgusting, shoddy, obnoxious, and a blatant, shameless Simpsons knockoff. Suck on that, my former college roommates.
Gifts should not be purchased cheaply. To me, the whole idea of shopping around for the best deal (on a gift, that is) is abhorrent. One should buy the gift from the first place one finds it, irrespective of how expensive it is. To go around pricing gifts seems very, very miserly to me. One might as well hand the person their present and say "Here, this is the cheapest one I could find." No. Gifts are not given in that spirit. Price is irrelevant. What matters is that you're giving them what they want.
On the other hand, if it was me, I'd want people to save as much money as they could when buying me gifts. This rule applies only to yours truly.
Jethro Tull is the best rock 'n' roll band of all time. 'Nuff said.
Asparagus sucks. Yes, there are actually some people who disagree with me on this one.
I'm pretty set in my ways, musically; rock 'n' roll, some progressive, some classical; but I enjoy the occasional bout of hip-hop. I'm not a hypocrite. There's a few tunes (by, say, Lil' John, or Ludacris, or Usher, or Sean Paul) that have a remarkable amount of nostalgic value for me, seeing as how I got down and dirty to their stuff at my high school dances. And you must admit, while most rap is atonal or just downright abrasive to the ear, it has a pretty good beat. It's just those buggers who drive around with their bass woofers turned all the way up (making the everybody else stuck in traffic think there's a mighty rhythmic earthquake going on) who give it a bad name.
If you want a specific example, I've had "Stand Up" (by Ludacris) stuck in my head the last few days. That one makes me chuckle.
Fox News IS fair and balanced. Nothing you can say will make me think otherwise. CNN can go pound sand.
That's all I can think of for now. So help me, I will never waver in my convictions again. Unless I hear some compelling evidence to the contrary, of course.
So there.
I think we're all insecure, we all care what people think, and if we're honest, we admit it.
My particular issue is that I've always been horribly sensitive to what people think and yet have been compelled to be a complete weirdo anyway.
What is it about weird kids and hats? Mine was a royal blue velour newsboy hat. I wore it every day, regardless of whether or not it matched my outfit.
I'm going to resist the very strong temptation to go through all of your list, pointing out exactly where I agree and disagree, and just leave it with these two things: 1) I can't stand Family Guy either. AT ALL. 2) I saw Superbad at the drive-in and probably would never have watched it otherwise, but I thoroughly enjoyed it. I laughed my proverbial ass off, even though this is the type of movie I normally avoid like the plague. The drive-in is a magical place; it makes you looser.
I did it! It's working! I got into a huge debate with three close friends about technology (good vs. bad) and despite the fact that it was three onto one, I stuck to my guns and didn't feel ashamed or regretful at all. I still believe what I believe, and am proud of it.
But I did feel a bit boorish while arguing my point, so I sent them all notes of apology later.
I think you and I have the same problem. Like, I mean, the EXACT same problem. Identical. That problem is actually de rigueur for me on a daily basis.
A blue velour newsboy hat isn't weird! I love it when ladies wear those. Seems to spell out mischief and confidence aside from being (what I believe to be) a smart piece of fashion. But still, wearing it every day might have garnered you some looks. I'm smelling another club here...the Weird Hat Bloggers' Club or something.
Hmmm...you've got a very valid point there. Drive-ins are magical places. It doesn't really matter if the movie's good as long as you're with some good people and have a grand time. And I think that mindset devolves onto how charitably you view the film. So I need to go see "Superbad" in a drive-in, or at least outdoors, then. A compelling argument...
"It's just that I've been out on the fringes for so long..."
The fringes, Andy, is where the money and opportunity are.
If I thought like everyone else, I'd BE like everyone else- and I wouldn't be sitting here in my pajamas leaving a comment to you and simultaneously making money.
(Polly, let's do Weird Hat Wednesday! We can make Postman go to his group of friends in his hats and take pictures of them 'em all freaked out- and if that were not enough, maybe he can tell the story again of how much he hates Family Guy. I don't watch t.v. at all so I don't know, but I'm sure he's right.)
Pollinatrix: Weird Hat Wednesday would be neat. But I'd find it difficult to keep coming up with new and weird hats. The coolest one I have is probably my mad bomber hat...but I also have a wool cap with a pocket in it. That's right, a HAT WITH A POCKET. How cool is that?
EC: Glad to hear there's fringe benefits to being on the fringes! You make an excellent point. There's many more times I've had cause to be grateful to be out here than otherwise. I hope I can parley that into a successful air cargo service.
HEH HEH...I'd do it, too. Freak out my friends on film, I mean. I just have to drop a few hints about how 50 degrees Fahrenheit is better than 80 to get that horrified look...
Insecurity is one of those things everyone denies suffering from. Yet we all have to deal with it on some level. Every time one's beliefs are ridiculed, one's intelligence is defamed (after one makes a mistake, for example), or one receives a personal insult, even the most stalwart sense of self-esteem crumbles just a little.
Well, mine does, anyway.
Guess I must be a softy. Once, I was the most untouchable weirdo in my peer group. I didn't care one whit for what people said about me. I'd go sauntering through the playground in a camouflage jacket and a black top hat (styling myself "Mr. Different"), and all the insults and derisive hoots that were hurled at me just bounced right off.
And then, for some reason, I began to care what people think. Thus began the downhill slide. Nowadays I don't deal very well with criticism, nor belittlement. Soon as somebody says, "That's stupid, Andy," or "How can you not like Family Guy? You must be a Communist, Andy!" my soul shrivels up a little, and I feel a mysterious need to backpedal and void my previous assertions.
And in so doing, I want to backpedal again and reassert my previous assertions, because voiding them due to public opinion makes me feel like a spineless, obsequious, sniveling, slimy weed, bending whatever way the wind blows.
I have resolved to go back to utterly not caring about what other people think of me: particularly, what I do and the things I like. As I mentioned earlier, I'm something of a weirdo, you see.
Take In-N-Out, for example. In-N-Out is a fast-food burger chain native to California and the west coast. It's inordinately popular, particularly in Southern California. I've never liked the place much myself. The fries are too greasy, the decor is sterile white, and the burgers don't come up to the level of, say, Tom's, or even Carl's Junior.
But the moment I say that I don't like In-N-Out, no matter how large the group of friends I'm with is, the vote is unanimous. Jaws drop, eyes bug out, horrified gasps resound.
"What?!"
"How can you say that, Andy?"
"Have you even had In-N-Out?"
"Are you a Communist?"
"You're definitely un-American if you think that."
Some of you might be wondering Hey, how come this weasel gets so insecure over an issue as trivial as this? So his friends all disagree with him about which burger chain is superior. Big whoop. That's no reason for him to feel he needs to change his opinion to fit in.
Well, hold on a minute. You said it just now. It's not so much the issue at stake. It's the fact that all my friends disagree with me. All of them. That's bound to make any member of the group, particularly one whose acceptance is as iffy as mine, nervous. I was a social outcast my first year in high school, and was (and still am) so socially inept that I still wonder how I managed to garner any friends at all. My pals are incredibly valuable to me. I would have had a lonely, lonely time in high school if they hadn't seen fit to tolerate my weirdness. I'd like to keep running with this gang. So naturally, if it seems as if I'm about to alienate them (or even distance myself from them in any way, shape, or form, no matter how minor), I go on red alert.
Pretty pathetic, right?
It's not that I'm fundamentally weak-willed or mealy-mouthed. It's just that I've been out on the fringes for so long that I'm starting to get the idea that I might be off base after all. I've gotten so used to being the only person in the room who thinks a particular way that I'm beginning to believe I might be wrong. Now I realize that this is all just herd mentality. Just because no one sees eye-to-eye with me doesn't mean I'm the littlest man there.
So no more. I'm done being a sniveling weasel. I'm through cringing inside whenever somebody criticizes something I like or believe in. I'm done thinking that my beliefs are inferior to anyone else's just because I happen to be the only person who holds them. I'm through caring what other people think. From now on, it's just going to be me and my mind, laughing together at private jokes, starting two-member fan clubs for the most arcane and obscure bits of pop culture available, grinning at each other whenever another person's eyes bug out. I'm going to be more like George Bernard Shaw: I'll say what I think, be right most of the time, abhor the general lack of intelligence in others, and focus on offending as many people as possible.
Mr. Sulu! Activate the psycho-emotional armor!
But I can't leave it there. I've dropped a few hints but have not unveiled the full enchilada. I'm going to give you a complete rundown of my most controversial beliefs, opinions, likes, and wants, so you can judge for yourself how weird they are, and have an appropriate baseline to appraise your own. This is also a defiant scream. Each item listed here has earned me a disbelieving look, a disapproving comment, or a jaw-drop at least once. This is what I believe, world, and nobody's going to make me doubt myself anymore for believing in it. And we commence!
5 comments:
I think we're all insecure, we all care what people think, and if we're honest, we admit it.
My particular issue is that I've always been horribly sensitive to what people think and yet have been compelled to be a complete weirdo anyway.
What is it about weird kids and hats? Mine was a royal blue velour newsboy hat. I wore it every day, regardless of whether or not it matched my outfit.
I'm going to resist the very strong temptation to go through all of your list, pointing out exactly where I agree and disagree, and just leave it with these two things: 1) I can't stand Family Guy either. AT ALL. 2) I saw Superbad at the drive-in and probably would never have watched it otherwise, but I thoroughly enjoyed it. I laughed my proverbial ass off, even though this is the type of movie I normally avoid like the plague. The drive-in is a magical place; it makes you looser.
I did it! It's working! I got into a huge debate with three close friends about technology (good vs. bad) and despite the fact that it was three onto one, I stuck to my guns and didn't feel ashamed or regretful at all. I still believe what I believe, and am proud of it.
But I did feel a bit boorish while arguing my point, so I sent them all notes of apology later.
I think you and I have the same problem. Like, I mean, the EXACT same problem. Identical. That problem is actually de rigueur for me on a daily basis.
A blue velour newsboy hat isn't weird! I love it when ladies wear those. Seems to spell out mischief and confidence aside from being (what I believe to be) a smart piece of fashion. But still, wearing it every day might have garnered you some looks. I'm smelling another club here...the Weird Hat Bloggers' Club or something.
Hmmm...you've got a very valid point there. Drive-ins are magical places. It doesn't really matter if the movie's good as long as you're with some good people and have a grand time. And I think that mindset devolves onto how charitably you view the film. So I need to go see "Superbad" in a drive-in, or at least outdoors, then. A compelling argument...
Maybe we could have "Weird Hat Wednesday" or something like that, where we post photos of ourselves in weird hats.
"It's just that I've been out on the fringes for so long..."
The fringes, Andy, is where the money and opportunity are.
If I thought like everyone else, I'd BE like everyone else- and I wouldn't be sitting here in my pajamas leaving a comment to you and simultaneously making money.
(Polly, let's do Weird Hat Wednesday! We can make Postman go to his group of friends in his hats and take pictures of them 'em all freaked out- and if that were not enough, maybe he can tell the story again of how much he hates Family Guy. I don't watch t.v. at all so I don't know, but I'm sure he's right.)
Pollinatrix: Weird Hat Wednesday would be neat. But I'd find it difficult to keep coming up with new and weird hats. The coolest one I have is probably my mad bomber hat...but I also have a wool cap with a pocket in it. That's right, a HAT WITH A POCKET. How cool is that?
EC: Glad to hear there's fringe benefits to being on the fringes! You make an excellent point. There's many more times I've had cause to be grateful to be out here than otherwise. I hope I can parley that into a successful air cargo service.
HEH HEH...I'd do it, too. Freak out my friends on film, I mean. I just have to drop a few hints about how 50 degrees Fahrenheit is better than 80 to get that horrified look...
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