Those Awkward Moments...

Dear World,
     I am alike a certain literary character in that  I dearly love to laugh. "What does The Cock-Eyed Optimist like to laugh at?" you might wonder. I love to laugh at people and their oddities and inconsistencies. I never laugh at that which is good and noble, but those things that are a little ridiculous you might find me chuckling over. (Read: you most definitely will find me chuckling over)
The Nocturnal Why is a social-butterfly in that she cannot live without So-ciety. I am a hybrid--I love people dearly, but I am also content to amuse myself. When I am in a group of people (and perhaps it's just the writer in me) I love to study them and try to make out their character.

This odd practice has lead to several humorous observations. Poor people--their little sham-performances are not lost upon me. :D One of the funniest--and yes, I've done it before--is the use of nick-names, slang, and otherwise imperfect titles when you refer to a book, author, etc. to sound smart.

A person who has once been embarrassed by referring to Les Miserables phonetically (Less Miserables) will from that day hence call it "Les Mis"--as chummy as you please. It little matters if you haven't the foggiest idea who Jean Valjean is; you can pronounce the title and sound "in," if you will.

Another common tactic for those who like to sound well-read (even if they aren't particularly so) is to speak of authors by their last names. Think about it: A person who goes around saying "Charles Dickens" sounds as if they just got done swallowing A Tale of Two Cities for high-school English class. A person who refers to "Dickens" in an off-the-cuff, self-assured manner has made himself master of the name and all Society bends knee. But "Dickens," "Austen," and "Lewis" are on the lower end of the importance spectrum. It is even better if you can parade your "Dante" or "Hugo" or "Chesterton", for precious few people get truly familiar with those great authors.

I think it rather amusing too when a person tries to repeat a famous quote, intending to repeat it verbatim and hashing it terribly, only to end with: "Well, I'm paraphrasing!" :D

Another Social Masquerade I love to watch is two near-strangers recognizing one another at a social function outside of their usual stomping-grounds. The body-language is hilarious. There is the accidental catching of the eye. The back straightens. A few more looks are stolen by each party. If the two acquaintances are both of a reticent nature it may go no farther. But there are some who have Social consciences. These will continue to steal side-long glances and pretend they want punch that they might get a better view of their acquaintance. What on earth are they wanting to assure themselves of? There simply cannot be another person in America with such flaming red hair and a nose that big, I'm sorry.
But their little charade goes on. Both parties circle the room like sharks, veering off in the opposite direction when the other sees them. The web of nonchalance grows more intricate. The circle grows tighter, the glances more frequent. Having assured yourself that that the person is indeed who you took him to be from the first, the moment is fast-approaching when this loitering cannot continue. You are now a mere 5 feet from each-other. With a last turn you find yourself face to face with your acquaintance, both of you red-cheeked, hot, and damp from the exertion of Pretending. If you are really good you will have remembered this acquaintance's name and the fact that their mother was ailing from a paper-cut the last time you met. (Which was two years ago.)

You inquire after the mother.

You exchange incidental remarks that you will feel stupid for on the way home.

You make fierce, dogged conversation on random subjects such as...hummingbirds--a topic neither of you have ever thought of in the whole course of your lives, but that lent itself to the situation in such a way that you could kiss the buzzing bird and revere it for all eternity.

You sip your punch and stare hard at the other side of the room, pretending you are much enthralled with watching something--anything.

The conversation dwindles. You both stare at the same nothing pretending it is something and hoping your partner will not guess anything.

You both glance back at the same moment and find twin discomfort and awkwardness in the others eyes.

You laugh--too loudly.

You say good-bye too warmly.

You leave, too red.

It is an old drama, and one that I hate repeating myself. What is it that causes people to act in these silly ways?

Self-consciousness. Yes. That old dragon. I find one glare from his glimmering golden eyes will set my blood rushing, as I know it does to the person who has mispronounced Les Miserables or the amateur who goes about calling authors by their last name, or to those two actors in that play of Not-Noticing.

The consciousness of Self.

Self--that other dragon who comes in so many forms it can always catch the average person unawares. It has often occurred to me that self-consciousness is just a backward form of vanity. We sit there thinking about how much other people are thinking about us. It causes embarrassment and awkwardness where there need be none.

We probably wouldn't worry about what people think of us if we could know how seldom they do.  ~Olin Miller

That quote hits home because it is so true. That's why I laugh over the little social charades and all the sham performances--when all is said and done you can be assured that you think of yourself far more than anyone else does.

“People may flatter themselves just as much by thinking that their faults are always present to other people's minds, as if they believe that the world is always contemplating their individual charms and virtues.”
― Elizabeth Gaskell

 We ought to slay the dragon Self--it's an old worn out beast who clings to us because of our sheer perversity in giving him credence. Think about it: how many little pretendings and silly affectations would disappear if we thought less of ourselves and how we might sound, and focused instead on making one or two intelligent remarks?

You might cheat me of one of my treasured laughs, but I'd donate it, tax-free. ;)

         Everly,

IMHO......

Dear World,
        Has it ever occurred to you how bad we have grown at the art of entertaining ourselves? We must have comedians, we must have television, we must have movies, and ipods and ipads and iknow not what else. We must have thousands of friends on social networking sites and we must let them know exactly what we think at the exact moment we think it. It is no longer good enough that we can send a letter without a stamp via email--no, we must hear the friend's reply (often senseless enough) immediately, and thus instant messaging, chat, and other things were created.
All these technological advances are great boons to our entertainment--I like nothing better than to get on the computer of an evening and chat with my best friends. But I wonder if these advances are as great a boon to our social skills and--perish the thought--our intelligence?
And I'm not the only one who has noticed it. Haven't you seen the little picture going around the internet?

"My Smart-phone made me Stupid."

We've all seen it--those groups of laughing, happy, congenial friends who walk into a restaurant, stare at one another solemnly for a moment, pull out their gadgets, and begin to text across, around, about, before, behind, below the table. I may be a little behind on the technology of the day, and I don't have free texts on my phone,  but I've found my tongue to be a bit quicker in conversation than my fingers could ever be.
My friends and I often lament the lack of real wit in today's conversations, and the general idea seems to be that there are just not enough opportunities. I would wonder, though, if we wasted less wit on making up the perfect Facebook status and instead put that brain-power into making clever conversation, if we'd all be a bit more charming.
Just imagine the wittiest duos that you've ever heard of...Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet come immediately to mind for me. It makes me cringe to think what some of their conversations might look like per today's conveniences:

Darcy: "Do you text as a general rule while dancing?"

Lizzy: "Yes." (pulls out her phone.) "I prefer to be unsociable and taciturn. Makes it all so much more agreeable, don't you think?"

Darcy: "ROFL."

Major cringing going on over here. That is so hideous. I know it's an extreme example but dear World, don't you agree? Our ability to make conversation seems to be languishing in the annals of texting language. (Not to mention our ability to spell properly which subject I will not even broach.) Just try it, I beg of you. Put yourself out to say one clever thing a day, and you may soon find your intelligence is not so impaired as that of your general acquaintance.
                                
Ever Yours,