I think the cap and gown e-mail freaked me out a little bit because it made me realize this is for real, that I'm really just a few weeks from being done with this whole law school thing.
[cue introspective music]
Change is scary. New things are frightening. I feel like I have a pattern that repeats itself. I'm a little slow to adjust. It takes me a little while to find enough people I like, enough cool things to do, and to really feel some level of comfort in a new situation. Which is probably true for everyone, I guess, on some level. Although it does seem like there are some people who can jump right into something and immediately make it seem like they belong. That may all be for show though, I don't know. But I was the kid who went into the swimming pool slowly, one step at a time, to get used to the water. I can definitely remember times as a little kid really not wanting to get out of my mom's car and go -- wherever it was, a new year at school, a new summer at camp, a birthday party, anything. Ten minutes in, I was fine. But that moment of change -- that moment when you don't know what exactly you're going to find yourself in, who's going to be there, whether it's going to be okay or not -- it freaked me out a little, consistently.
I feel like I've gotten a lot better at this kind of stuff as I've gotten older, as I should have, but there's still that feeling in the back of my head sometimes. That voice that tells me it would be easier not to go to that party, because what if it's not fun, or what if I don't know anyone, or what if there's no one to talk to. I try not to listen to that voice too much, and I feel like I've finally convinced myself that voice is usually wrong, and more often than not, things are so much more fun and so much less unpleasant than I can scare myself into thinking they could be. And this applies to pretty much anything I guess. I overthink. I look at the lists of people in my classes before each semester to figure out who I can try and sit near in case the professor makes us commit to a seat on the first day.
In undergrad I feel like it took me two years to really get comfortable, to find enough people I clicked with and feel like I was socially in a good place, to get a level of security where I didn't have to manage my life so much, or worry about it, and that things were really cool and fulfilling. Even though the first two years I had a bunch of friends, and activities, and was relatively happy. There was just something that took a little while to click. And here it was kind of the same. 1L year was fine, but life was better on these fronts last year, and even better this year, which has been really cool and, actually, I've been awfully content with life lately. Which is awesome. But...
That means it's a little scary to know I have to start over again pretty soon, even though it's only "starting over" if I frighten myself into thinking it is. I mean, I have a lot of friends in New York, I have all of the ingredients for a cool and fulfilling existence. There's no reason I shouldn't be excited, there's no excuse for not being able to craft the life I want to have. But it's still kind of frightening when it starts to sink in, and I realize that I need to do stuff like figure out where to live, and what my days are going to look like, and put in the energy to create a situation where I don't feel like something is missing, and I don't get myself in some sort of funk where I'm not seeing enough people, or doing enough things, or whatever.
I said this in an e-mail to someone the other day, but I feel like I'm kind of terribly extroverted for an introvert -- that I like being around people, just not a ton of them at once. :) What's been interesting to figure out as I've gotten older is that this is all kind of idiosyncratic, that everyone feels comfortable in different settings, and that a lot of really cool people are totally cool being alone a lot, more than I am, or that a lot of really cool people are totally fulfilled in a way I'm not by being in a big crowded place where you have to scream to talk to anyone, and just everyone experiences stuff differently and has different tolerances and preferences.
Anyway, this is a way too self-involved post that probably only gets written because it's 2 A.M. and my better sense has already gone to sleep. And a good night's sleep will knock the angsty-ness, or whatever's jangling in my head tonight, out of my brain before I start sending bizarre e-mails to friends that make me sound insane (I think I've already sent three of those tonight, unfortunately -- I hate that feeling, after you send an e-mail, when you realize that actually no one really needed to read that and it was all just you sorting stuff out in your own head and it didn't need to go anywhere. I guess I hate that about this weblog stuff too, but, then again, it's kind of what I like about the weblog stuff, in a way. I don't know. I'm obviously insane tonight. I apologize for that.)
Okay, cue music that wraps all this stuff up and sends me to sleep. Less angst tomorrow, more jokes about the Pope.
[cue introspective music]
Change is scary. New things are frightening. I feel like I have a pattern that repeats itself. I'm a little slow to adjust. It takes me a little while to find enough people I like, enough cool things to do, and to really feel some level of comfort in a new situation. Which is probably true for everyone, I guess, on some level. Although it does seem like there are some people who can jump right into something and immediately make it seem like they belong. That may all be for show though, I don't know. But I was the kid who went into the swimming pool slowly, one step at a time, to get used to the water. I can definitely remember times as a little kid really not wanting to get out of my mom's car and go -- wherever it was, a new year at school, a new summer at camp, a birthday party, anything. Ten minutes in, I was fine. But that moment of change -- that moment when you don't know what exactly you're going to find yourself in, who's going to be there, whether it's going to be okay or not -- it freaked me out a little, consistently.
I feel like I've gotten a lot better at this kind of stuff as I've gotten older, as I should have, but there's still that feeling in the back of my head sometimes. That voice that tells me it would be easier not to go to that party, because what if it's not fun, or what if I don't know anyone, or what if there's no one to talk to. I try not to listen to that voice too much, and I feel like I've finally convinced myself that voice is usually wrong, and more often than not, things are so much more fun and so much less unpleasant than I can scare myself into thinking they could be. And this applies to pretty much anything I guess. I overthink. I look at the lists of people in my classes before each semester to figure out who I can try and sit near in case the professor makes us commit to a seat on the first day.
In undergrad I feel like it took me two years to really get comfortable, to find enough people I clicked with and feel like I was socially in a good place, to get a level of security where I didn't have to manage my life so much, or worry about it, and that things were really cool and fulfilling. Even though the first two years I had a bunch of friends, and activities, and was relatively happy. There was just something that took a little while to click. And here it was kind of the same. 1L year was fine, but life was better on these fronts last year, and even better this year, which has been really cool and, actually, I've been awfully content with life lately. Which is awesome. But...
That means it's a little scary to know I have to start over again pretty soon, even though it's only "starting over" if I frighten myself into thinking it is. I mean, I have a lot of friends in New York, I have all of the ingredients for a cool and fulfilling existence. There's no reason I shouldn't be excited, there's no excuse for not being able to craft the life I want to have. But it's still kind of frightening when it starts to sink in, and I realize that I need to do stuff like figure out where to live, and what my days are going to look like, and put in the energy to create a situation where I don't feel like something is missing, and I don't get myself in some sort of funk where I'm not seeing enough people, or doing enough things, or whatever.
I said this in an e-mail to someone the other day, but I feel like I'm kind of terribly extroverted for an introvert -- that I like being around people, just not a ton of them at once. :) What's been interesting to figure out as I've gotten older is that this is all kind of idiosyncratic, that everyone feels comfortable in different settings, and that a lot of really cool people are totally cool being alone a lot, more than I am, or that a lot of really cool people are totally fulfilled in a way I'm not by being in a big crowded place where you have to scream to talk to anyone, and just everyone experiences stuff differently and has different tolerances and preferences.
Anyway, this is a way too self-involved post that probably only gets written because it's 2 A.M. and my better sense has already gone to sleep. And a good night's sleep will knock the angsty-ness, or whatever's jangling in my head tonight, out of my brain before I start sending bizarre e-mails to friends that make me sound insane (I think I've already sent three of those tonight, unfortunately -- I hate that feeling, after you send an e-mail, when you realize that actually no one really needed to read that and it was all just you sorting stuff out in your own head and it didn't need to go anywhere. I guess I hate that about this weblog stuff too, but, then again, it's kind of what I like about the weblog stuff, in a way. I don't know. I'm obviously insane tonight. I apologize for that.)
Okay, cue music that wraps all this stuff up and sends me to sleep. Less angst tomorrow, more jokes about the Pope.
posted by Anonymous @ 1:49 AM
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