Being Social

So, you know how hard it is to be social? With strangers, people you do business with, your spouse's friends, your acquaintances, etc.? It's super hard, and I don't like doing it! The rules for what is polite and what is expected change with every person, place, and situation. And the internet isn't any better! No one minds hurting someone else over the internet. They're just throwing cruel words out for fun. You're a name on a page, not a person. They'll even go out of their way to be a jerk. Even to me! I'm an incredibly pleasant person! I have hardly any armor against unprovoked attacks!

Lately, I'm really, really fed up with the world in general. I think to myself that it's best to give up on everyone that I don't already love. I feel trapped in this crowded city of bad drivers, unfriendly strangers, and acquaintances that don't let me talk. I really hate people. I feel like Roy from The IT Crowd, when he is moved to exclaim (pardon the language): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eVSlE28hOgI

Since I moved, I haven't made any friends. Acquaintances, yes, but no friends. I don't have enough regular meetings with anyone to feel that it's polite to invite anyone over. So I've been socializing mostly with my husband's friends, people he's known since high school. Most of them I like, and it's definitely better than not meeting anyone at all, but...

Well, we had two birthday parties this last weekend. I went to the party on Friday in very low spirits, but it was a complete BLAST! Mostly, we talked and played Cosmic Encounters until past midnight. No one drank (well, one guy had a single glass of bourbon) or spent a lot of money. The other party, which I looked forward to, since my last social experience was positive, consisted of an expensive dinner and drinks at a yuppie hotel pub. Despite the stereotypical funniness of drinking friends, they were more obnoxious than anything. The first party was merely an example of how fantastic it is just to talk with a mix of nerdy and intellectual people. The second party needed money and alcohol to have a good time, and failed (for me. Maybe if I did act foolishly and drank I would've had a better time).

I could complain more, and I want to, but... there's the problem. While I really want to hate people in general, I don't want to be hated. While I feel hurt and want to lash out, I guess I don't want others to be hurt. I don't know if I feel the need to put up a false front of being nice, or if I'm actually trying to be nice instead, but it's a struggle. If I can't be truly happy alone, then I'll have to struggle with my naturally ill-natured self, and try to be social.

My plea to mankind: Don't make it harder for others around you. Be nice. We don't want to go outside as it is.

The Shame After Complaining

Do you know that feeling too? Unless you are one of those wise, patient people who don't count their problems before they hatch, you've felt that sheepish, face-hiding shame of complaining about something that actually turns out fine, haven't you? It's quite the common occurrence for me, I regret to say. Something problematic happens, I flip out/grumble/groan, and then it solves itself after all.

"Why is the universe picking on me? I don't wanna! I'm already tired and miserable... Oh, it's cancelled? Okay, that's cool."

So, in my last post, I complained about driving through the city traffic to meet the Sister Missionaries, and of the prospect of having to do that again later that night. When my husband came home (right after I'd cleaned up those carrot peels), he decided to take me out to a Mexican restaurant within easy walking distance, not because I deserved it, but because he is AWESOME. When I told him of the 3rd trip I'd have to make around town, he simply said, "No, you're mine. They had their chance." But I still felt guilty at the thought of not keeping that commitment, so I knew that if they called, I would have to go, or run the risk of hating myself (more).

While we were at the restaurant, eating chips and drinking Horchata, I checked my phone and found a new voicemail. I groaned and listened to it, but lo, and behold, the lesson had been rescheduled! It was time to dance in my seat to the Latino party music on the radio.

Does this happen to you? Maybe this kind of situation is exclusive to my silly nature, or maybe God keeps doing that to poke at me, trying to get me to learn that He's not really that mean, and that I really need to stop over-reacting and worrying.

"Oh, you thought you had a reason to complain? Don't you feel silly now?" To which I hang my head and reply, "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." That's not really how I pray, but you get the idea. Whether you believe in God or not, have you ever felt like this sort of thing has happened to you too? It's not just me, right?

First: Is Complaining Good or Bad?

First of all, you probably have a good reason to complain.

I do not. I grew up in a loving family, I was able to graduate from a university without any debt, I love my husband, and he makes so much money that I don't have to work. I have my own laptop and a pretty good internet connection. In no way should I be allowed to complain to anyone, but... I still want to.

Complaining is both bad and good. It can be honest or exaggerated, accentuating negativity, or revealing the positive aspects of life. Some do it too much, others too little. Do you ever complain out loud, and then realize that your problems are very small and easily solved? Or, on the flip-side, find that your troubles compound and get blown out of proportion instead?

I'd like to complain about the really easy day I had. The only useful task I've accomplished is folding laundry, even though the kitchen is a stupid mess, with carrot peels left on the counter. I sat on the couch and watched animé all day. It was a weird show, so I'd only give it a C+. Some tv shows are like my mind lately. Too vague. The shows I've watched lately are not focused on concrete subjects, but on abstract concepts, like love, and they waste time with bad attempts at comedy and little to no plot progression. The loves stories aren't that good. They fail to draw me in, but I watch out of boredom. It's unsatisfying, like my life since I graduated.

After that, I was asked by the sweet Sister Missionaries from my church to attend a lesson with them at 6 p.m. I agreed, since I had nothing better to do. Now, Washington state has a cool breeze going, but does that reach you in a car? And will the air conditioner at full blast keep away the heat? Of course not! So my clothes stuck to me, and the house they told me to meet them at was so hard to find that I got lost several times, got caught up in the traffic going to the freeway, and was 20 minutes past the time I said I'd be there.

Why do they have those yellow islands that make turn lanes impossible?!?! Don't they know that it's insanely difficult to find a place to turn around as it is? "We're sorry, you cannot go where you want to at this time. Please drive a few blocks, and try again." Not to mention the commuter's traffic was at its height. It was a pain. I hate driving. I called them twice, but they only called back after I got back home. The man wasn't even there. They want me to go back with them later tonight. The third trip down there, yay!

It's not very far, and I'm not busy. How can I say no? They won't be off the clock when it's over like I will, however. These girls do this every single day, and they're so cheerful. Is industry, or service, the key to happiness? Probably. Purpose. Making the most of life, with purpose in your actions, and the joy that comes from serving your fellow human beings, that sounds happy, no?

You know, before I got up this morning, I wrote a To-do list, and intended to follow it. Am I allowed to complain about how my choices have made me the pathetic person I am today?

My sweet husband will probably come home soon. I'd better clean up those carrot peels now.