Introspection: How do I want to engage with the world?

[steuard]

This isn't so much another cruise post as a cruise-inspired post. It's about me, and about some introspection that I began in its aftermath. I'll get to the point, and leave notes on specific inspirations to the end.

At some point in my distant past (I'm thinking maybe high school?), I more or less consciously decided on a multi-layered approach to interacting with the world. The idea was that I should appear to be more or less "normal" and respectable at a casual glance, so I could go about daily life with minimal social friction. A closer look or spending more time around me would quickly reveal my unexpectedly quirky/weird/funny personality, which would resonate with kindred spirits and make spending time together more fun for everyone involved. And beneath that, those who really got to know me would recognize my shining core of awesome and know that I was wildly competent and unshakably trustworthy. (Nope, I've never been full of myself at all. :) )

That all sounded like a great idea at the time (particularly if you can keep from rolling your eyes at the "awesome" bits). But I've begun to realize some fundamental flaws in this strategy. Most obviously, who are these layers for? Who in my life really gets below layer 2 to see the core of who I am? Heck, how many people have ever even seen past layer 1? The trouble with having an outer "normal" layer is that (by design) even people you'd love to meet are unlikely to give you a second glance. My high school self may have been eager to avoid unsolicited attention, but I'm coming to the conclusion that people who welcome it (or at least accept it) often lead more interesting lives.

But it's worse than that. When that "normal" layer is my primary interface with other people, it inevitably gets a considerable share of my energy and attention, not just out of the need to maintain it but simply out of habit. And that almost certainly sucks some of the life and vividness out of the core of me, where it's most needed. I don't think I'm willing to accept that, now that I've recognized that it's going on.

I haven't figured out what to do about it yet, and even once I have a plan it's awfully hard to reconfigure one's established habits while buried in the daily pressures of the academic year. But I know I want to make some changes. Broadly speaking, I think I'd like to strip off that outer layer (and keep it around as an optional cloak rather than a constant camouflage), and I'd like to devote more energy to expanding and strengthening that inner core and using it for good. (Miles Vorkosigan would strip off the second layer, too, but I don't think I could handle the intensity of "all awesome core, all the time".) It's going to be a long journey to figure it out, but I'm grateful to have realized that I need to travel at all. (Now I just need to make sure my plan is compatible with getting tenure...)

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So what did the JoCo cruise have to do with all this? A lot of little things came together to get me thinking about this stuff. There were of course the handful of "nerds that I don't want to grow up to be", but that was a relatively minor factor.

A larger one was realizing that my shyness and hesitation about approaching strangers would be moot if I were even a fraction as overtly unique and creative as Sara "chicazul" was (shown here in one of the many homemade outfits she wore every day), because a lot more strangers would be inspired to make that first move for me. Not that I'm creative in that same way, but the point is that she was vividly memorable to pretty much everyone on the cruise. She made an impression, and her self-assurance and personality were visible at a glance. I'd like to figure out what core aspects of my personality might be able to produce something akin to that effect.

Another event that made a lasting impression on me was the rise of Famous Tracy (in the first three minutes or so of this video). As previously described, at the Q&A session Tracy mentioned pretending to be famous. When John Hodgman joked that she was famous enough to be on stage, too, she immediately got up and joined them. It was awesome, and I immediately had two thoughts: 1) I sincerely hoped that I would have leapt at that opportunity with as little hesitation as she did, and 2) I wasn't sure that I would have. (I suspect it would have depended on my mood, and I'd rather it didn't.)

A factor which I know was central in getting these thoughts flowing was John Roderick's concert on Thursday night. No one song was a specific trigger, but everything he sang was tinged with regret and sorrow. The specific topics weren't necessarily what connected with me, but all together he left me fed up with unproductive emotions like angst and regret. (To pick two samples out of many, here are videos of "Seven" and
"Stupid".) I walked out of his performance convinced that "there's a better way to live one's life than that" and looking inside myself to see if I was falling into any similar traps.

My conclusion from all that? "Good cruise!" I expected it to be fun, but this variety of inspiration was a (welcome) surprise.

Comments

[lordhylas.livejournal.com]

Well, you clearly know that I don't wear a mask now, and haven't for quite some time (effectively ever). I came to the conclusion quite a long time ago, that, while most people where masks (very few people really show their true self to the majority of the world), I just simply didn't want to do so. Why should I? For whom was the mask? There can really only be two answers to that questions, and both involve insecurity. the first answer: the mask is for everyone else. Well, why? This implies a need to please everyone else, which most certainly would come out of certain insecurities. Also, it's, as you said, energy devoted to pleasing people about whom, honestly, I could not care much less. The second answer: to hide imperfections in my own character. This again implies insecurities. Well, yes, I have character flaws, but, why hide them? They are part of *me*, and, if they're so horrible they need to be hidden, then why not just strive to correct them rather than hiding them behind a mask? So, I came to the conclusion that wearing a mask for the rest of the world, trying to take on that semblance of normality, was just a great big waste of time and energy. So, screw it. No mask. If people can't accept me for me, then, they're not worth my time. And by not putting up a front of normality, they get exposed to *me* that much quicker, and waste that much less of my time. Consider it a filtration process. Those who are worth your time are going to like the real you layer.

When I first met you, I obviously met the outer layer, the "normal" you. I could tell there was something under there, but you did present a bit more conservative a you than I would have cared to be friends with. I'm certainly glad I got to see more of the real you, and that I've come to know you better. I just wish we lived closer together so we could hang out.

[steuard.livejournal.com]

I think that I've ramped up my "normal" layer somewhat since I started teaching (especially while I'm teaching). As a professor, I feel like I have something of a responsibility not to alienate any of my students (even the ones who I probably wouldn't get along with particularly well as friends). So I aim for "slightly goofy but approachable", and I generally avoid talking much about politics or acting so weird that I drive people away (away from my help, or worse, away from physics). I won't swear that's the only reasonable way to approach the job, but it's what has felt right to me thus far.

On the other hand "(potential) teaching time" accounts for rather a lot of my average day, which may be why that "normal" layer has felt a bit more prominent lately. I need to find ways of bringing my core self to the fore without compromising my more or less professional relationship with (any of) my students.

[lordhylas.livejournal.com]

Agreed! And you definitely do a good job of being approachable.