Like a bad penny
Jul. 16th, 2005 08:31 pmI return to the world of Internet, sun-singed and ego-tender and foggy from lack of sleep, but unbowed, unbroken. I'll post the full story when I'm back in Saratoga, but here is the short version:
At Pinewoods this year I had trouble getting my mood-engine going; when it did get off the ground it sputtered and stalled and bumped back down to earth again after an hour or two. I spent a lot of time asking myself, "Why am I here?" But, like the Wright brothers', each successive attempt was longer than the last, and towards the end of the week some Very Nice Things™ happened, so by the Pinecones party on Friday night I had achieved smooth and level flight. I wish I'd managed it much earlier, but I'm glad I got there in the end; I want to miss Pinewoods when I leave. And I do.
Two things contributed to my rough ride this year:
It took me most of the week, but I finally kicked both of these problems in the teeth. Go me, hoorah. I played in some wildly successful jams; I shook off the insecurity and spent enough time with Ellen (*faint*) and Cat and Karen to figure out that, yes, you dummy, they really were happy to see and snuggle me; I surprised myself by edging sidewise into a bit of closeness with a splendid and pretty Bryn Mawr girl. (I'd been convinced, all week, that she was wary and suspicious of me, but she turned out to be perfectly happy to stay up and snuggle until 5AM with me. Twice.)
What happened was this: I forgot my lessons. E.g.: "If someone isn't talking to you, they might be shy or busy or unhappy; they probably do not HATE YOU" and "If you want people to want to be around you, be the sort of person people will want to be around. Scowling by yourself in a corner is not the path to victory." I forgot I needed to work to make the social currents flow for me. As I said, I got spoiled last year; next time I'll be ready. Unless, of course, I forget everything all over again. It's tiring, having to work, and I wonder sometimes why I can't have effortless social success the way *mumblemumble* and *whisper* and *mmm, yes, him* do. But it's worth the effort; it makes me happier, in the end.
More updates to come, and probably some piccies. This, I see, has become an angsty little nugget; my mood now is not at all angsty, but I suppose I needed to get it off my chest, and as I got all of two hours of sleep last night my filters are not at their most filtery. There were quite a few happinesses this week, which you'll hear about. Promise. Good to be back online, y'all.
At Pinewoods this year I had trouble getting my mood-engine going; when it did get off the ground it sputtered and stalled and bumped back down to earth again after an hour or two. I spent a lot of time asking myself, "Why am I here?" But, like the Wright brothers', each successive attempt was longer than the last, and towards the end of the week some Very Nice Things™ happened, so by the Pinecones party on Friday night I had achieved smooth and level flight. I wish I'd managed it much earlier, but I'm glad I got there in the end; I want to miss Pinewoods when I leave. And I do.
Two things contributed to my rough ride this year:
- For the past two years, there's been an open band for part of each evening's ball, and I was up there every chance I had, blistering fingers and breaking strings; this year, no camper musicians at all were allowed on stage. Since I am much more a musician than a dancer, this was a significant blow; it knocked out about half of my reason for being there. I've spent a lot of time over the years wondering about my Role at Pinewoods, wondering what I could do to make myself part of the machine. And for two years now I felt I'd been establishing myself as a more-than-adequate backup player—not part of the band, but up on stage every night, contributing, visible, so people could perceive some reason for my being there beyond "He's K.'s boyfriend; he doesn't really dance much." This year, the Role I'd been carefully crafting was swiped from underfoot before I even arrived, and suddenly I was bumped down to buck private again. To add insult to injury, for the first time one of the pro musicians was a hotshot guitarist, who was younger, cuter, and much much better than I am. I was left standing with my git in my hand, so to speak, wondering why I'd come.
- Last year, as soon as I arrived, I met
![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
shelkesem, who was immediately excited to see me, whom I grew close to quickly, who came looking for me when (for instance) I was stuck on the pond in a canoe. Whatever else was going on, I knew there was one cute young thang who was quite glad I'd come. I wasn't seeking or expecting that kind of instant rapport this year, but its absence left a void I wasn't expecting. There was Drama this year, enough Drama that I was glad to be an innocent and uncomplicated bystander, but as the configurations formed and split and all the cute young thangs were preoccupied by the carnage (watching or participating) I felt invisible, an available lap with nothing warm and willowy to fill it. Shallow, yes, but that's a part of Pinewoods I look forward to, and the insecurity demon (b. 8th grade, d. never) is happy to unsheath his claws and show his teeth when it doesn't happen. I was spoiled last year, provided with an instant buffer against insecurity; this year I felt ofttimes overlooked.
It took me most of the week, but I finally kicked both of these problems in the teeth. Go me, hoorah. I played in some wildly successful jams; I shook off the insecurity and spent enough time with Ellen (*faint*) and Cat and Karen to figure out that, yes, you dummy, they really were happy to see and snuggle me; I surprised myself by edging sidewise into a bit of closeness with a splendid and pretty Bryn Mawr girl. (I'd been convinced, all week, that she was wary and suspicious of me, but she turned out to be perfectly happy to stay up and snuggle until 5AM with me. Twice.)
What happened was this: I forgot my lessons. E.g.: "If someone isn't talking to you, they might be shy or busy or unhappy; they probably do not HATE YOU" and "If you want people to want to be around you, be the sort of person people will want to be around. Scowling by yourself in a corner is not the path to victory." I forgot I needed to work to make the social currents flow for me. As I said, I got spoiled last year; next time I'll be ready. Unless, of course, I forget everything all over again. It's tiring, having to work, and I wonder sometimes why I can't have effortless social success the way *mumblemumble* and *whisper* and *mmm, yes, him* do. But it's worth the effort; it makes me happier, in the end.
More updates to come, and probably some piccies. This, I see, has become an angsty little nugget; my mood now is not at all angsty, but I suppose I needed to get it off my chest, and as I got all of two hours of sleep last night my filters are not at their most filtery. There were quite a few happinesses this week, which you'll hear about. Promise. Good to be back online, y'all.
