A few weeks ago, the Spanish teacher started asking for the homework. I was in the front row and, naturally, had it ready. She was in her desk and started calling people’s names. I’ll use pseudonyms for “safety” reasons. The Spanish teacher said: “Jose bring your homework…” then “ John, your homework please…” I was next “YOU, bring your homework.” she said, while pointing at me. It’s important to note that I’d been her student for four months now. I stayed seated, she asked again “You, could you bring me your homework.” And so I went and acted as it had never happened. It didn’t end there, a week later, a substitute came in for that same Spanish teacher. She had taught in our school and now worked as a substitute, probably because of her age. The lady was very professional, in the second class with her, she collected books, again, by names. The substitute remembered everyone’s names, apart from mine.
I kept wondering, why they didn’t care to remember my name; is there something different about me? Even worse, am I such an average person that I don’t stand out in a class with only 20 people? Clearly, there must be something wrong with me… or not, I concluded that it was because I’m an introvert. Before moving on, for those of you who don’t know what it means, there are two terms for defining one’s social behaviour, extroverts and introverts. Extroverts are the more outgoing people; people who like being surrounded by others all the time and prefer being in public places. While introverts are more reserved. Introverts are usually cast in a light of antisocials, that they don’t like to be with other people at all and behave like hermit crabs, only coming out of shelter when it’s completely necessary. I assure you, this is definitely not the case, an introvert is someone who likes being alone, is comfortable with his or her thoughts, and doesn't have a problem spending a day all by himself, reading or watching a movie. This does not mean that I don’t like going out or spending time with friends or go to a party, but that I do enjoy being alone. Introversion, at least in my case, comes hand in hand with social anxiety, meaning that I’ll be nervous most of the time, no matter where I am or who i’m with. This often makes me look like a shy guy, which is not the ideal situation. I don’t like blaming things on society , I just feel like it’s a cop-out, but sometimes it is society’s fault when everyone is expected to become the “life of the party”, so to speak. Because society rejects the idea of introversion, one of the most valuable activities is completely lost. Solitude, or the act of being alone, in a room, possibly reading, maybe watching a movie or even just reflecting. The undeniable cause for the countless “anti-social” comments your parents make each time they come into your room. Solitude goes very unappreciated these days, truth be told, it’s only time I feel 100% comfortable. Which is ultimately the reason I love writing blogposts, Jill Solloway phrased it perfectly “The intimacy between my brain and my fingers and my computer... Yet knowing that that intimacy will find an audience... It's very satisfying. It's like having the safety of being alone with the ego reward of being known.”
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I had the opportunity to go to a GIN (Global Issues Network) conference last week, needless to say, it was an amazing experience. It was set in Rio, Brazil, subjectively, one of the most beautiful places on Earth. The conference created a sense of awe, accompanied by hope and inspiration, something that doesn’t come by very often; the project-leading students didn’t only say that they were gonna change the world, they were already doing it. Regardless of the landscapes, the food, or the incredibly articulate speakers, the best part was definitely the people.
It’s always great meeting new people, especially in a place like a GIN conference as everyone has the same mindset yet different perspectives towards life. I formed many bonds with people from all over the continent, as a consequence, once I left, I couldn’t shake off a feeling of melancholy and grief. On the plane back, a word kept popping back into my head, sonder. I found it on “The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows” a few months ago, but didn’t give much attention to it at the time. It means: “The sudden realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own—populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness—an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you’ll never know existed, in which you might appear only once as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk.” The only difference between sonder and my situation is that I knew those people, they weren’t random passers by, rather, friends. They're people who i met, who I care about. They’ll live their lives parallel to mine, go on adventures, grow up, get married, have kids, and slowly grow old. They’ll forget the time we spent together and they’ll live as if it never happened. At the conference, I came to a conclusion about meeting new people: "Make someone laugh once and you had a nice conversation; make someone laugh twice and you’ll have a friend for life.” But I was wrong, it’s reasonable to think that we’ll never meet again, that our paths won’t cross once more, and if they do, who’s to say that we’ll even recognize each other. Now, I find myself typing slowly in my room, alone, thinking of what would happen, how their lives would change, how my life would change, if I just sent them a message saying “hi”. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. Archives
May 2016
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