The human heart was—and remains—a mystery to me. But I’m learning. I have to. —Anthony Bourdain

My Life as a Social Idiot: aka, Why I’m not a brilliant conversationalist

there is no particular reason for the photo, it’s just one of the few receipts with my name spelled right, umkay?

I have been told that I look “suplada” or standoffish or just plain “mataray”. (There are no English translations that I can think of for the two Filipino words in the first sentence that I’m quite satisfied with, let me know if any of you five readers think of one)

I don’t quite agree. I’m just, for a lack of a better word, shy. I am not the type of person who can walk up to someone and just strike up a conversation (I just met one, a colleague named Jean and I think she rocks). I just can’t. However, when I do get approached, I try my best to maintain a flow of words between us, to most of my ability.

I say to the most of my ability because sometimes there really is just more dead air than actual words. For fear of being politically incorrect, unfunny or offensive, some of the things I do want to say are stuck inside my head, only to be told later to someone I’m sure would understand or appreciate the joke.

It is a power I would like to have. Yes, I consider it a power to schmooze, as this will get you places in life, your job, your social status and your future family’s place in the world cemented by the power to rub elbows quite effectively.

This thought did not materialize randomly in my head. Last week, I had multiple opportunities to mingle and widen my social circle with quite frankly such amazing people and personalities were presented to me on a platter. What did I do? I sat in a corner and finished a book. (It was a fun book, but hey, actual people!)

So here I go again, saying next time I’ll do better and socialize more. I will. I will.

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