I have lacked confidence in some areas of life, particularly when it's come to women. Sometimes I attribute my invertedness around the opposite sex to my shyness, or my calm demeanor, or my simplicity, or my ploy to be the cute/adorable/quiet one. All these excuses have derived themselves from a deep-down nervousness, a fear of rejection, a belief that the girl I'm interested in would not be the type to be interested in me. So of course I have confirmed those thoughts whenever I introduce a girl to my unconfident, aloof, uneasy representative. I hesitate to make eye contact, mix up the words I try to speak, say something in the ordinary, and go blank. And there I have sat in a room with myself, aware of how stupidly this whole performance is spewing out yet oblivious to any way of redeeming myself, and in the end, I've provided little of anything to intrigue this girl into giving me a confidence boost.
This should not be read as self-pity. This should not be read as a cry for help. This should not even be read in a tragic light. This is a self-revelation from a growing boy, someone who is maturing and evolving. This is the declaration, a big step in my growth of outward confidence: an admittance of my current self, different from my ideal self. Read: the past two months have brought me stronger and more prosperous relationships. I see the world through more attractive eyes, which I greatly owe to a brighter concept of my own self that in turn reflect onto others. But even with this accomplishment, I have plenty of room to further improve.
Today I found myself bursting with energy and confidence thanks to a little personal time where my body just froze and my mind completely took charge. I thought about the people I call my friends and how incredible they are in their own ways. These people possess some of the most admirable traits imaginable. They are kind, loyal, truthful, intelligent, loving, determined, gentile, fun, humorous, passionate, talented, sound, beautiful individuals.
They were all stangers at one point. Eventually we met, conversed, and became friends. I chose them, but more importantly: they chose me. Incredible.
Friday, January 10, 2003
Tuesday, January 07, 2003
It was the spring of my freshman year when I had Abnormal Psychology every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon. The subject matter thrilled me, even when I engulfed the information too deeply and diagnosed myself with each disease we covered. I worried about being histrionic one week, schizophrenic the next. Even when we studied narcissism, I thought, "Finally, this is something I know I don't have," followed by, "Wait, isn't that what a narcissist would think?"
What brought the already amazing course to another level for me was the professor, Dr. Vinson. Soon after I'd sit down, Dr. Vinson would walk in. She had a closet full of the same black top she wore to every class. Her spunk and peppiness would draw you in even during the most boring lectures. She was genuinely cheery, she was very personable, and she was fair. After the final, I thanked her for teaching the course and told her I would see her in the fall. Midway through the semester I had decided to take another class with Dr. Vinson, and after scrolling through the course schedule, settled on Psychology of the Personality: a class where both the subject matter and the professor would fascinate me.
I never saw Dr. Vinson again. I walked into that same classroom in the fall, expecting her to walk through with her smile and black top. Instead, a plump, balding thirty-year-old man plodded through the door. As I can recall, here's how he explained his presence:
"No, as some of you can tell, I am not Dr. Vinson, and if you knew I was teaching this class, you probably wouldn't have signed up for it. For some reason I have a reputation for being too hard, but I'm trying to change that. It'll be tough, so hopefully you're the last class that will have to suffer."
Scared, nervous, disappointed... no, that's not how I felt. Betrayal, anger, amusement... that's closer to the truth. After reviewing the syllabus of ridiculous demands and uninspired learning methods, I daydreamed about racing back to my dorm room and dropping the class. I did exactly that ten minutes later and replaced Psychology of the Personality with Advanced Principles of Criminal Justice, a class I ultimately loved.
Today began the spring semester of my junior year, possibly my next-to-last semester of college. I walked into my first class with similar expectations as when I walked through the Psychology building a year and a half earlier. Last semester I completed Research Methods in Criminology with Dr. Brank. In a few months she inspired and helped me more than any professor yet. I needed her as a professor again, to teach me, to motivate me, to excite me. Three months ago when I studied the spring course schedule, I saw my destiny in between the gibberish of section numbers and meeting places: Psychology and Law, Dr. Brank. A course covering my two favorite subjects, diving into my future profession, being taught by my favorite professor.
Dr. Brank stands at her podium early, about fifteen minutes before class starts, so I expected her to be right by the door as I opened it. The seats were growing crowded with students, but no teacher was in sight. Soon after I took my seat and unpacked my bag of a notebook and black pen, a young, large, plain woman walked through the door. I recognized the lady as a TA in one of my classes from sophomore year. I remembered how rude she was, how apathetic she acted whether discussing criminology or listening to a problem I had with an assignment. I remembered how after months of frustration, I concluded that she would never amount to professor who could inspire me. And here she stood, in front of the class, holding syllabi, only she, with no Dr. Brank in sight. Here I felt stood my omen to a terrible semester: the class and professor I most yearned to have would be replaced by a tepid version of the course taught by a dull professor.
To my delight, I had damned myself prematurely. My former TA explained that she was the TA for this class. As for our professor, Dr. Brank was sitting in a courtroom, called for jury duty, but assured she would return by next week. As for the syllabus, when scanning the area of topics, I almost got physically aroused by the phrase, "Defendant Competence: insanity defense, diminished capacity."
My excitement and enthusiasm carried throughout the first day of classes, as I found potential for fun and benefit in each course. Of course, the potential also exists for sleepless nights of paper writing and library research, but hey, I'm all for the fun and benefit part.
What brought the already amazing course to another level for me was the professor, Dr. Vinson. Soon after I'd sit down, Dr. Vinson would walk in. She had a closet full of the same black top she wore to every class. Her spunk and peppiness would draw you in even during the most boring lectures. She was genuinely cheery, she was very personable, and she was fair. After the final, I thanked her for teaching the course and told her I would see her in the fall. Midway through the semester I had decided to take another class with Dr. Vinson, and after scrolling through the course schedule, settled on Psychology of the Personality: a class where both the subject matter and the professor would fascinate me.
I never saw Dr. Vinson again. I walked into that same classroom in the fall, expecting her to walk through with her smile and black top. Instead, a plump, balding thirty-year-old man plodded through the door. As I can recall, here's how he explained his presence:
"No, as some of you can tell, I am not Dr. Vinson, and if you knew I was teaching this class, you probably wouldn't have signed up for it. For some reason I have a reputation for being too hard, but I'm trying to change that. It'll be tough, so hopefully you're the last class that will have to suffer."
Scared, nervous, disappointed... no, that's not how I felt. Betrayal, anger, amusement... that's closer to the truth. After reviewing the syllabus of ridiculous demands and uninspired learning methods, I daydreamed about racing back to my dorm room and dropping the class. I did exactly that ten minutes later and replaced Psychology of the Personality with Advanced Principles of Criminal Justice, a class I ultimately loved.
Today began the spring semester of my junior year, possibly my next-to-last semester of college. I walked into my first class with similar expectations as when I walked through the Psychology building a year and a half earlier. Last semester I completed Research Methods in Criminology with Dr. Brank. In a few months she inspired and helped me more than any professor yet. I needed her as a professor again, to teach me, to motivate me, to excite me. Three months ago when I studied the spring course schedule, I saw my destiny in between the gibberish of section numbers and meeting places: Psychology and Law, Dr. Brank. A course covering my two favorite subjects, diving into my future profession, being taught by my favorite professor.
Dr. Brank stands at her podium early, about fifteen minutes before class starts, so I expected her to be right by the door as I opened it. The seats were growing crowded with students, but no teacher was in sight. Soon after I took my seat and unpacked my bag of a notebook and black pen, a young, large, plain woman walked through the door. I recognized the lady as a TA in one of my classes from sophomore year. I remembered how rude she was, how apathetic she acted whether discussing criminology or listening to a problem I had with an assignment. I remembered how after months of frustration, I concluded that she would never amount to professor who could inspire me. And here she stood, in front of the class, holding syllabi, only she, with no Dr. Brank in sight. Here I felt stood my omen to a terrible semester: the class and professor I most yearned to have would be replaced by a tepid version of the course taught by a dull professor.
To my delight, I had damned myself prematurely. My former TA explained that she was the TA for this class. As for our professor, Dr. Brank was sitting in a courtroom, called for jury duty, but assured she would return by next week. As for the syllabus, when scanning the area of topics, I almost got physically aroused by the phrase, "Defendant Competence: insanity defense, diminished capacity."
My excitement and enthusiasm carried throughout the first day of classes, as I found potential for fun and benefit in each course. Of course, the potential also exists for sleepless nights of paper writing and library research, but hey, I'm all for the fun and benefit part.
Thursday, January 02, 2003
I opened the new year with my 2.5 year high school reunion.
Two of my hometown friends invited me to a bbq, but little did I know I would see countless former classmates I had not seen since project graduation. In the field I was surrounded by our old class president, the guy voted most intellectual, the snake and bug collector, the guy I thought looked like a lizard, the girl I had a crush on throughout eighth and ninth grade. We hugged, we laughed, we caught up... and for the most part I was done.
High school is over. I received my diploma in May 2000, but I didn't graduate until later that fall, when I had adjusted to life away at college and realized I was to grow in a life independent of high school. These people are no longer my true friends, no longer the people I choose to have those intimate conversations with, but I enjoy seeing them grow with me. That way, I know I'm not doing it alone.
Two of my hometown friends invited me to a bbq, but little did I know I would see countless former classmates I had not seen since project graduation. In the field I was surrounded by our old class president, the guy voted most intellectual, the snake and bug collector, the guy I thought looked like a lizard, the girl I had a crush on throughout eighth and ninth grade. We hugged, we laughed, we caught up... and for the most part I was done.
High school is over. I received my diploma in May 2000, but I didn't graduate until later that fall, when I had adjusted to life away at college and realized I was to grow in a life independent of high school. These people are no longer my true friends, no longer the people I choose to have those intimate conversations with, but I enjoy seeing them grow with me. That way, I know I'm not doing it alone.
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