As I might have alluded to in my past post, I've been on sort of a personal high over the past few days, feeling quite comfortable and pleased with myself. I was in my usual "no-one-can-touch-me," c'est la vie mode which I have cultivated well.
But like all good things, this high had to come to an end. You see, my balloon of happiness and self-satisfaction was becoming overly bloated. So I guess God decided that some air needed to be let out.
The blood leading occurred yesterday. Yesterday, began really well: Art history (really evolving into my favorite class to here a lecture in) and a relatively smooth diagnostic examination for Spanish.
Things went down a tiny incline in economics when a guy called me rude. I don't know if he was joking with me, or if I had really made a bad impression. You see before class, I was outlining art history, so I was sort of in a mental fog where my social acuteness (quickness of tongue?) becomes blunted and rather innocent. I was only half-listening to the conversation when the two guys in front of me asked me where I was from. I hesitated and then said it. For some odd reason, I thought that my answer was obvious and embarrassingly mumbled something about "forgetting where I was from." Don't ask, it confuses me too. But that little faux paux on my part isn't the problem. The problem came when I attempted to begin polite conversation and return the question. Apparently, the guy had already said where he was from three times. I honestly hadn't heard him because I was in my outlining zone. For this he said something to the effect of not listening as being rude and then repeated that he was from Washington, DC three additional times. I don't know if he was being serious or trying to be funny? Once again, I was in that odd brain fog of mental exersion after outlining, so I had a difficult time responding to and interpreting human interactions in said state.
Nevertheless, I recovered as best as I could, and as the lecture began I regained my usual public face of polite, unfazed passiveness.
The bigger blow came around 8:30 that night when my roommates and I received a knock on our apartment door. Four guys were at the door, holding beers. They said they lived in the building and were having "a meet the neighbors" party, and we should stop by for a beer. After they left, my roommates and I held a conference about whether or not we should go. We're not big party people, but it would be nice to meet new people. So after much debate, we decide to go and stay for a bit. We get there and their are a few people there. The hosts were surprised we came. Apparently, it really wasn't a meet the neighbors party. One of the guys lived in our apartment two summers ago and that's the reason they decided to invite us/ knock on our door.
At this point, I feel like an invader. They all know each other. Some of them don't even live in the apartment complex. After later thought, we concluded that they we also seniors, hence the keg and beer pong table. Don't get me wrong, they seemed like nice enough guys, even though they were drunk and even seemed disappointed when I gave my exit excuse after five very awkward minutes. One of them seemed legitimately sad when he learned we wouldn't be staying for an extreme game of flip cup. In his inebriated state, his eyes reminded me of a toddler when you tell him that he can't go to the park.
So away we fled "to rescue my lost and drunken friend," who in reality happened to be a 75 cent set of wooden spoons from Walmart. I felt sickened with regret from the whole experience. Why did we go in the first place? Why did we make such a lame exit? The answer to the former question: we would have been kicking ourselves if it had really been a neighbors' party. I wanted to push my self out of my normal comfort zone to reach new growth to enable me to "mingle" and "network" better. But as a result, the answer to the latter question arose: I was way, way, way TOO far out of my league.
Therefore, I failed at party mingling which lent itself to a subsequent three hour semi-panic about not being able to make new friends without the recommendations of others. However, there is nothing a shower, a hot cup of tea, and a night's rest filled with dreams of the successful, mid-twenty something me holding a rather witty tee-a-tee with Gerard Butler, while looking extraordinary fetching, can't fix. Therefore, needless to say, I'm out of my funk, but my guard is now raised which isn't necessarily a bad thing.
Time to move on with life.
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