Good Times, Bad Times
December 5, 2008
Let me explain a little bit about how shyness works. My own particular breed, that is.
I used to be very shy, and I’m still not an outgoing person because outgoing people are mostly tits, unless you have the personality to back it up. Or the pizzaz, or whatever. I don’t think I have either.
Point is, I’m over a lot of that now. About two years after I started my blog, one person at work found it, they asked me about it and I had to leave the fucking room because I felt myself going red. I’m much better with it now, it’s on my facebook page which is available to friends and colleagues and I make neither secrets nor bones about it.
It’s not like it’s that big a deal though. Anyone can have a blog and there is no standard on having one. You don’t get picked out of obscurity to write a blog. The country isn’t full of kids pretending to write blogs in front of their bedroom mirrors. That doesn’t happen.
This guy on the other hand? I’d love to be able to do this. How does he make it look so easy? I hate him.
But I still have big moments of insecurity for no real reason. And this is despite me dancing like a little monkey boy on the internet for people I don’t know and now podcast to.
I shouldn’t be able to do it. It makes no sense on paper. Maybe it’s down to a lack of paper that I can – I just don’t know.
Today I had a meeting with someone I had never met before. All I had was a place and a name. Donna in the ground floor café. I was running a couple of minutes late so I didn’t have time to work out the specifics of props to recognise me with.
So I picked out someone who looked lost and like a Donna
Me: “Excuse me, are you Donna?”
Maybe Donna: “No.”
Jesus. What a fucking idiot. Jesus fucking H hell.
Me: “Sorry, I was meeting someone called Donna.”
Not Donna: (Silence)
Then someone else saw me, and I walked over, still silently pricing myself out of heaven.
Donna: “Are you Cliff?”
I owned up, strangely never thinking she was an idiot for asking me. Probably because she got it right. Not like me. Dufus.
Donna: “I wasn’t sure it was you.”
Me: “No, it is. Heh. I just went up to a complete stranger and asked if she was you. She said she wasn’t, which you’ve just confirmed.”
Me (thinking): “Shut up! Stop it, you fucking idiot!!! That’s not funny. It’s not even cute.”
Here’s an odd fact. Since I started doing the podcast, I have put on eight pounds. That’s weird considering I’m a slim person and it coincides with the four weeks since I started doing the podcast, so I guess it’s mostly ego.
It might be to do with me getting fitter, but isn’t the oppoite supposed to happen? I started running as a way of beating the blues, and having physical proof that for a least half an hour, I did my best. It’s the same reason I started this blog, to put forward my best effort every day. I often still feel like it’s not enough though.
Have a good weekend.
12 comments
Dance, monkeyboy! DANCE!!!
I think everyone has moments like this. I spend a disproportionate amount of time analysing perfectly unremarkable conversations because I’m worried I made an idiot of myself.
Why would you even say that?
HAHAHAHAHAHA! Just joking. Thanks Katy. Maybe we all do, only I’ve got the CJones to say it.
Haha! CJones!
You’re probably building up muscle. Or eating more because it’s winter. One of those. I was about to launch into a rigorous excision, then I remembered the comment rules. Instead I’m simply going to enjoy today’s offering. Job Done. Reminds me of a joke, though – why do the French only have one egg for breakfast? Because over there un oeuf is un oeuf. Here all week.
What does a Donna look like Cliff ? for instance as opposed to say a Samantha, a Jessica or even a Peaches?
It’s a species of kebab
I’ve never been shy..
for some odd reason i think the world needs me to entertain it .
I dont think its cause i have a huge ego , i think its more my lack of an ego ..
maybe .
.
I have a sister named donna ..
She looks like me, but short and dark..with better tits ..
damn her
Last year I had to come clean and tell the misses I had a blog, “What the hell is that for?” she said.
“emm, it’s just something I do”
her “that’s weird”
Now she can’t get enough of blogs and even considered doing her own. I too was nervous about mentioning it at work, until someone said, I’ve been reading your blog, it’s really good.
That got me over it and don’t mind telling anyone now. It’s like I’ve come out of the geek closet. Although it has reinforced the “don’t mention work” aspect of blogging.
Hmmm.
I have lost several pounds since the podcasts began.
Are you stealing bits of me?
It’s worse than you think, Cliff.
She’s written it up on her blog too and now the other half of the internet knows about it.
The Donna scenario is probably not all that surprising, really. If I was Donna I would have probably sought to identify the person I was meeting by looking out for someone who was acting in a way which signified that they were trying to identify someone they were meeting. Which is a bit of a catch-22 if both parties do it, alas, but it works if one of the parties “break cover” as you did.
But I’m not Donna. At least, not this weekend.
If I’d have been Not Donna, I’d have apologised *sigh*
Leave a comment. Play nice. I will turn this blog around.