A brief rundown of my social history and characteristics:
Quiet and shy. Never a social butterfly. More of a larvae: unmoving; socially retarded. That’s me.
Push me into a ‘sizable’ group of female acquaintances and there’s no chance you’d hear my voice for two hours straight. Dumb smiling or listening is all I’d be able to manage. Confounding, yes. It’s actually one of the great mysteries of this planet.
In the company of ‘a modest number of’ friends I feel comfortable with, I am gregarious. My close pals would vehemently apprise others, “Geena (my blog name now, btw) is quiet and shy? No way.”
In college, my attempts to look cool, like my “gangmates”, included lighting up a cigarette every now and then during our hangouts. Still, for all my stab at sophistication, the flavor of smoke on my tongue was atrocious. So in the few seconds my pals weren’t looking, I’d spit out the foul taste on a nearby soil. I’d turn around only to see them laughing at me.
In my 20’s I started carrying a persona which was equivalent to: “You don’t like me? That’s tough. As I couldn’t care less.” Not entirely or always accurate from my core, of course.
My 20’s also saw me conducting with a lighter carriage amid my dealings with the opposite sex. I don’t know. Compared to women, it’s a breeze to be genial around men. It might have something to do with my being a tomboy as a girl. Plus the fact I simply like men.
The male bestfriends I had had were mostly gay; although my closest confidantes have been female. I believe it’s practically impossible to have a straight man for a ‘real’ bestfriend. Deep inside, straight men could consider only a fellow dude their true bff.
I’ve adopted a torpid stance in the pursuit and preservation of friendships these days. All relationships require effort. I figure why go pleasing certain #&@% when my own company is a lot more pleasant. Right right, I could get self-absorbed I admit. Or maybe, this is another plain manifestation of growing older. But really, most ladies my age here I find too blabby, as in blah blah blahbby bohring. Am I of semblance, as well? Indubitably not. Don’t forget — I am strange.
I hate pretending, to boot. Albeit there’s Breaking News: This coming summer season at school, whatever remains of my social skills will be put to a test – in the performance of my job. However did that come about? Story below.
I have two bosses – both foreigners; both from the land of unrepentant consumers of our beloved Bow-wow-wows. I am at the moment sitting across from the more difficult head honcho. Inside his room are he, the head teacher, and I. The special meeting has been going on for nearly an hour.
“Our company is in the red – especially throughout off-peak seasons. We must try harder to keep students and not lose them, regardless of their disposition toward learning English. Teacher M, you have to pretend – even if the students aren’t good enough or well-behaved. No doubt as to your competence, but…you must strive to be like the other teachers who have to put on an act that all students are likable. For the benefit of our school.”
Holy Mother of Monster Tuna, how am I supposed to pull off something that repulsive (I ponder with worry).
“Can I rely upon you on this matter?”
A painful pause. “Sir…..I’ll try.”
“You can’t just tell me you’ll try. Tell me you’re going to do it.”
A long, difficult silence befalls.
“I don’t know… allow me some time to think about it.” Well, my conjecture is management can’t castigate me for maintaining my bar — which aims toward my predilection for diligent students, over the insolent and indolent ones. They should know I have my privileges, in view of my pioneering role in the academy.
My boss senses this. He begins to execute his last recourse: “Teacher M, I’m begging you…”
Now that is mortifyingly awkward — sussing I’ve reduced my boss to pleading to his mere subordinate. Oh dear old MrPark, you need not beseech me.
“Okay sir, I’ll do it.” I blurt out. “I am going to pretend. And I’m doing it only because you ask me to. This one I’d be willing to do. Just for you.”
A hint of blissful reassurance glints underneath my boss’s reserved demeanor.
It’s a tall order I may not be able to follow. I must remind myself, however, of the times my bosses put up with me, of the many times they had been patient with me – especially in one, no, two instances when I had plonked my job on the line for personal reasons (uh, that’ll be another blog post). I owe them that much.
We all came out of the meeting with a lighter heart. Giving in to his request somehow provided a hush, sided by a feeling of gladness.
Now I have to make a pact with myself to do a double sign of the cross each time I enter a classroom.
This favorite dance tune of mine by Bobby Brown was from the soundtrack of “Ghostbusters 2” a movie I didn’t like much. I love “Ghostbusters 1”, though, largely because of Bill Murray, whom I have adored ever since his first major hit — the wonderful and delightful film “Stripes.”
This star-studded video also (for a few seconds) featured Christopher Reeve, the original Man of Steel no other actor playing Superman could surpass.
Anyway, here’s the talented Bobby Brown before his messy marriage to the famous singer. I am of the opinion, too, the song is another underrated piece of his.