Perspective is an important attitude to posses. The way in which we perceive the world, however unknowingly, greatly enriches the way in which we view our own lives. I regard my life as one of profound luck. Sure I have regrets, things I’d wish I’d said or done differently. There have been difficulties, the parting of influential family members and degradation of my parents marriage, but nothing that millions of other people haven’t confronted themselves. But I’m fortuitous to have a beautiful daughter who makes me laugh more than anything in the world. A gorgeous, considerate girlfriend who somehow tolerates my hermetic existence. I’ll never be rich or even revered, but I’m blessed to have what I do considering my own innumerable flaws.
There’s a long list of personal imperfections that I could recite and scrutinise with meticulous detail, most being your garden variety nuances that we all have. The most prominent one though is my refusal or perhaps inability to interact with people socially. I’ve long espoused the philosophy that expression and communication are indivisible, yet vastly conflicting. People express themselves through art, music, writing, even game design, conveying thoughts and emotions without the need for overtly vocalised disclosure. Whereas as conversation provides a more immediately direct relay to discuss these concerns or engage in meaningful conversations. The trouble for me is that I’m terrible at conversations.
I don’t exert a personality that one would consider amiable, with the most pervasive criticism being that I’m “grumpy”. I’ve been told on numerous occasions that I mumble, that I don’t enunciate my words clearly or project them in a way that isn’t either muffled or wildly intimidating. It’s frustrating that I have to actively pronounce my words carefully just so I don’t have to repeat what I’m saying! It also doesn’t help that I have a penchant for being sneeringly sarcastic and bluntly honest, with even the most receptive of observers mistaking my vigorous assertions as rude or even combative. I think there’s an air of pomposity about my candour, as if I’m being deliberately contemptuous, which isn’t my intention. If someone expresses an opinion I don’t agree with I will say “I don’t agree with that” without restraint.
This is why I’ve become an exponent for the beneficial values of isolation that many gregarious friends would consider a denotation of being an introverted pariah, one that refuses to engage in traditional conversation because of some pathological anxiety. I’m not deliberately trying to be withdrawn or inciting people with this boorish, outwardly aloof persona, I’m just not very good at elaboration without inciting a reaction. Regular visitors to this site may be a little confused by that considering the tenuously meandering digressions that smother the majority of my flagrantly protracted articles. But writing is different. Expressions scrawled on paper, or whatever the digital equivalent is, are composed with deliberate organisation. Time is committed to articulating an opinion with an assured perspective that accurately conveys the information. The way I express myself here is completely different to way in which I’d vocalise something.
I’ve always been comfortable with who I am, that hasn’t changed. But I won’t lie that it can be difficult to be characterised as a moody, passively aggressive pessimist with the deluded notion that the beliefs he surmise are absolute, which doesn’t represent who I am at all. I can be anti social, candid and overly sardonic at times but I can’t change who I am, nor do I really want to! We as individuals should always be striving to improve intellectually, to become better people spiritually. But you can’t change the cardinal probity of who you are. And I for one fee privileged to have accepted who I am as a person, but to also have people in my life, few as they maybe that can recognise and accept me because of it. There’s no sense in pretending to be someone you’re not, because all you are doing is concealing who you really are.