true dat iggy
TL;DR: I’m conceited and a disappointment to both men and women
Like many a gay, more often than not, my voice tends to distinguish me from the standard form male. It’s something I’ve recently grown accustomed to and can finally stay in the same room when I hear it back. This obviouly wasn’t always the case. Middle school was hell (for everybody), but this one red headed prick was exceptionally merciless. Anytime I opened my mouth, he would just come at me with barbs (always out of the teacher’s earshot), and it got to the point where I couldn’t even open my mouth. It lead to some sort of pavlovian conditioning to try to be unseen and more so unheard. Clearly, It affected the rest of my life in ways I’m still coming to terms with. Who knew being raised in a tough-it-out-on-your-own, shame based culture, would have its drawbacks‽ Like Bill O’Reilly, Alec Baldwin, and Rosie O’Donnell the Irish are just all so emotionally well adjusted.
Currently, I work in the service industry which means I talk to strangers on a consistent basis without, for the most case, any bother. But when I speak to a customer for the first time, I can see the wheels start turning behind the eyes, and in that moment, my people-pleasing tendencies combine with my own internalized homophobia which plays out in some self-shaming, self-flagellation. The most peculiar part to me is I care the most when it’s a pretty girl smiling in a way I think she’s into me. I’m not even remotely attracted to her, but I still desire her approval. Consequently, I fall right back on my shy, introverted habits.
This will probably sound callous to some, but the one sort of little mantra that helps me get through these little mental machinations is “nobody cares about you." It’s so simple, and decisive, it cuts through all my bullshit. I don’t know if is the healthiest mottos to live by, but a little humility never hurt anybody. Anyway, this supposed to be me bitching about having a tough week at work and it transformed into this. I’m gonna go watch whatever is on my Tivo.
Last week, Beck released a follow up to Sea Change, my favorite album of the oughties, and St Vincent, my favorites artist of the twen-teenies(?), released an album on the same day, and I’m too terrified to listen to either one out of fear of being disappointed. I’m listening to old tunes until I build up enough courage.