Allow Me to Explain Myself

Getting to know someone can be a difficult thing. It’s easy, given time, to become familiar with how a person behaves in the environment in which you commonly observe them, but that person may act entirely differently when they are at home, or with another group of people, or maybe just when you aren’t there. You can only see what they do, and you can hear what they say; that person’s unique identity filtered and subdued by inhibitions and insecurities.

Of course, some are more affected than others.

You, for instance, might be so comfortable with yourself that insecurity isn’t a factor in your interactions. A mature person, discretion the only thing standing between your mind and your lips.

Congratulations! You probably have a lot of friends.

Me, on the other hand....

Oh, me.

I have friends, mind you. Good friends. Most of whom are now my friends because I stepped briefly from my comfort zone at one time or another, but I tend to...like my comfort zone... It’s cozy in here.

What I’m saying is that I wouldn’t be surprised if most people who know me don’t know me very well.

It’s not like I have anything to hide; I really do enjoy getting to know people. I’ll be a friend to anyone who needs one, and anyone who’s willing to listen to me think too much can be my friend, but if I don’t know you well, honestly, I’m probably not the easiest person to talk to. Or, you know, anywhere close. So, if you’re trying to figure me out, I really don’t know how you would start.

Hm...That’s a toughie. Lemme help.

I like explaining things (see the above paragraphs, which explain in detail things you already knew) so, I’m thinking, why not explain...me? I’m qualified, right? What if I wrote a kind of guide, a series of posts to explain how I think, and published it as a reference, so anyone who wants to know more about me can pry it from the jaws of the proverbial equine? (Lesson number one: I sometimes say things like: “pry it from the jaws of the proverbial equine” and don’t even apologize.)

So, here ya go. If you ever took a look at me and thought “What’s up with that guy?”, you’ve come to the right place.

Phwew! Long intro. I do that.

Anyway, what to start with?

Full name: Andrew Alexander Bagenstos.

Eyes: Hazel. (It’s greenish brown)

Height: 5”11 (and every bit of that three quarters!)

Weight: Classified. Ok, fine. 204 lbs, last I checked.

Occupation: All-purpose employee (APE) at Olive garden

Favorite food: Chicken Scampi

Least favorite food: Breakfast in general

Favorite sport: Billiards

Good name for a cat: Thadeus Mcgrew

...Bah. That stuff’s no fun. You can’t boil a person down to a list of facts. Well, I can’t, and if I can’t it must be really hard, because let’s face it: I’m like, really smart.

Ooh! Let’s talk about that!

Part 1: 

Potential

I’m a pretty intelligent individual...Or I think I am. (Likely both, I’d say.) But here’s the thing: I’m really insecure about it.

 I absolutely hate the idea that someone is smarter than me.

   Seriously, just try walking up to me, gesturing to a random passer-by and saying “That guy is WAY smarter than you!” Then, just watch me squirm with internal struggle. Of course, I’ll spit out some quasi-humble garbage: “It’s entirely possible.” or act like I’m kidding when I say “Then he must be REALLY smart!” While inside, the internal dialogue is deafening:

   “Why doesn’t anyone know how smart I am?”

   “You’re so arrogant. Maybe because you work at olive garden. Maybe because you’re not that smart.”

   “I don’t work at olive garden because I’m stupid. I’m just...lazy.”

  “Yeeeeah, that’s intelligent. Come to think of it, it’s probably because every time you speak, you sound like an idiot.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

(Disclaimer: Any part of this post which might make me appear to be...well, actually unstable is likely intended to be humorous, or for the ease of illustration. I’m perfectly stable. Really.)

  Now, to be clear, it’s as obvious to me as it is to you that there are plenty of people in this world smarter than Andrew Bagenstos. I know that. I hate it, but I know it. There are people who can do math in their heads faster than a calculator, people with eidetic memories who never forget anything they see or hear, people who can create rhyming phrases while speaking them, people who have--gasp!--actually contributed to society with their intellect.  So, why is it so important to me to be smarter than everyone else? Maybe it isn’t. Maybe I just want to be smarter than me.

I don’t know if everyone feels this way, but I am perpetually frustrated by my limits. I doubt them, I loathe them, I fear them, and I believe that fear created them.

I really believe that I am, somewhere deep inside, a genius. Somehow I think that if I could only learn to focus, to circumnavigate mental blocks and reach my true potential, I could do those things.   

If I could just...stop...being...afraid.

Potential.

I hate that word. I don’t want to have potential. I can’t stand it knowing that I’m sitting on the power to change the world, and doing nothing with it. And I can’t stand that I can stand it. Despite knowing for years about that blasted potential I was cursed with, I can still ignore any course of action. I can still procrastinate. I can still waste my gifts trying to get attention. I can still. Do. Nothing.

I wish I could could be happy with me. I wish I didn’t know better.

I wish I didn’t know better than to wish I didn’t know better.

If you don’t consider yourself a genius, consider yourself lucky.

...But I am doing something, aren’t I? I’m writing this blog. I’m actually using my gift for writing and expression. I’m actually creating something. That’s why I’m sitting here at a quarter to 4am typing away. That’s why this blog is so important to me. Thank you very much for reading this far.

Well, this has been...different. It appears I’ve ditched my usual soapbox for a confessional. Let’s call it a night. I hope you learned something about me. I mean, that was kinda the point, after all.

Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m quite finished with this ‘talking about me’ thing. Seems like it might have its own little section. People write whole blogs about themselves you know; it won’t be that bad.

I'm doing this, partly because I wish everyone else would.

Especially girls. Yeah, I just don't even know.

Gratuitous disclaimer: Oh, and I wasn't bragging about my gifts and genius and potential. If you don't feel the same way, it's because you're either unaware of your own gifts, or you're actually doing something about them.