I sometimes get really confused that people seem to think I’m cool. I’m not cool. I’m not cool at all. How I ever make people think that I am, when I’m so obviously not and therefore don’t even try to be, is what really confuses me. A friend flattered me a couple of weeks back by telling me that her friend, who had met me once, told her, “Christina’s so cool….she just doesn’t care!” My best friend Tessa echoed this again last night. She used words like ‘so confident’ and ‘cool’ as well. I informed her that I wasn’t cool, and that she knows that I am not cool. This girl has watched me grow up, mostly ungracefully. She knows I miss spots when I shave and therefore keep a razor in my purse,that I was home-schooled (is there anything less cool than this?), and that I have a five-year old’s sense of humor. She knew me when I was too socially awkward to talk to boys without giggling for no apparent reason and she knows that I have little to no attention span half of the time. She knows that I can’t walk in heels without breaking a body part and that I don’t know how to apply makeup correctly so therefore don’t even try. She knows that I am probably the worst driver to ever exist and that I have a history of running into immobile objects. She has seen me laugh so hard that I pee a little. She watches me talk to random strangers and compliment people I don’t know. She even watched me, in shock I believe, hand out my blog ‘business’ card to a waitress the other day, and inform said waitress of what exactly it was as to not to think I was a lesbian. Yes. I actually told this poor lady, in between giggles, that I was not hitting on her. THIS is how not cool I am. I told Tessa she knew how weird I was. She replied with something along the lines of, “Yeah, but…that’s cool because, people see you do things, and they think, ‘That’s so cool, because she doesn’t even care.'”
That I somehow portray myself this way astounds me. Because I do care. I really do. Sometimes I force myself to talk to random people the way that I do, or I make myself go out occasionally when I’d rather just chill at home that night. I am actually terrified of rejection. I seriously pondered on this and I came up with a short mental list of how I come across as having such a chill and nonchalant attitude: 1. I’m completely oblivious to what I should be doing or how I should be acting, at least 98 percent of the time. 2. I haven’t learned how to hide many of my imperfections very well. 3. I ramble when I meet new people and if I’m nervous, and this makes it seem like I’m telling you embarrassing and strange details about my life just because I want you to know. And perhaps most importantly, 4. I realize that my opinion of me can be much more hazardous than other people’s opinions of me. I will eventually forget a stranger or a long lost friend if they don’t like me. I cannot forget myself. Because of this, I feel like I need my own approval more than anyone elses. I was extremely shy and uncomfortable around people growing up. I didn’t have many friends, and I was alone a lot of the time. The hardest part of all this was, I didn’t like myself. I know that this is why I push myself so hard now. I also know that it’s at least a small part of the reason why I have so many friends, am always making new friends, doing new things, and talking to people I don’t know. I need to prove to myself that I can. I need to know that I am not that scared little girl anymore. I need to feel brave and crazy and alive. I need to do these things for me.
The fact that people see my faults so openly displayed and still think I’m cool? Well, that’s awesome. But what’s even more awesome is that I have so many people who love me for being my crazy-ass self. This week I’ve been really trying to notice all of the little things. Best dude friend paying for my bubble tea. Tessa (after I gave her some not so subtle hints about needing chocolate) driving me to the grocery store and buying cookies and milk. The nine-year old I nanny making me a door hanger with my name on it. A new friend calling my blog ‘inspiring’, and another saying she thought I had a great sense of style. (I didn’t know I had a sense of style.) Sweet compliments from my blogger friends. My mom giving me a painting she had originally bought for herself, simply because I liked it. Katie offering to come home early from her vacation just to watch my dogs when I go on my vacation (I declined, don’t worry.) Becca inviting me over to her place so she can play bartender and make yummy drinks for me. Crystal informing me, after I told her that I owe her 20 dinners for being so generous to me, that I shouldn’t worry about it and that she doesn’t keep tabs. It’s little things like this happening week after week, that make me feel loved in such a big way. With people like this in my life, it’s completely okay that I’m not cool, probably will never be cool, and that I do care and probably always will a little.