I was told last week that I've developed a reputation... an announcement that was far from a revelation. We all, after all, have reputations: known or unknown, intended or inadvertent.
For a variety of reasons, I enjoy hearing some of the reputations I've accumulated in my short life. They're all local in scope - shared by only a handful of folks... transient, superficial, and largely specious. I obviously have not made enough of an impact on this good Earth to carve out any lasting reputation, for better or worse.
Some of my more shameful reputations pop up continuously: perceptions of an "utter lack of confidence" or a "flighty and flaky temperment" have followed me around, particularly in my adult life. I'm sure my persistent difficulties with rather simple aspects of modern life (paying income taxes, replacing windscreen wipers) are to blame.
I've managed to shed some reputations, though. In junior high and high school, a continuous undercurrent of "faggot," derogatory and degrading, followed me around which. Following the blessings of my high school diploma, I heard it significantly less in college. When I moved to Seattle, it disappeared altogether. Since my behavior, personality, and mannerisms haven't changed significantly since my teenage years, I can only assume that reputation clung deep to the cultural roots of my former home. By mid-college, I'd also managed to shed another cursed label: "dumb." No doubt fueled by my inability to change the oil in my car (among other cerebral deficiencies), it was the generalization that cut deepest. After all, I'm no great athlete, nor a man of any remarkable talent; I decided early on that I could only rely on skull-encased grey matter to get me anywhere in this world. I worked hard, but with a desperation one gets when there's no safety net to rely on. Thus, jabs at my numerous intellectual deficiencies would (and, to an extent, still) strip me down in a raw and savage manner. It's a primeval psychology - built up and broken down entirely in the depths of my brain. But, rather than confront the enemy within, I've instead somehow managed to shed the reputation that I'm generally "dumb."
These past few years, I've been both surprised and humbled by some of the small, local reputations I've inadvertently accumulated. Some seem understandable, particularly considering my quirky conversation style: "humble" and "long-winded" particularly come to mind. I was surprised when I realized others have perceived me in this way... not because I don't see myself in these ways, but because I very much do. It was five years ago this summer that someone first described me as "unduly humble," and I was floored... As I began to mumble a retort ("I am not 'unduly humble'!"), some spark in my grey matter forced me to face reality: "Oh... uh... I guess I am... kinda... maybe..." If you know me well, then alarms should sound: "kinda... maybe..." is classic James-admits-it's-true-though-he-doesn't-want-to.
Since that cold revelation, I've relished in several other truthful reputations (collector-of-trivia, persistent worrier, selectively shy) and scratched my head at others (flaky/flighty, asocial). But, last week, I waited patiently for an acquaintance to tell me the "reputation" I've apparently acquired. As she told me, my mind (perhaps due to my alleged aforementioned "flighty" nature) began to wander, and another node of long-neglected grey matter twitched: why do I care?
If I don't already, I suppose I should work toward forming a reputation for caring how others percieve me. It has been, in my short life, perhaps my most crippling shortcoming. I persistently try to anticipate how my actions may be perceived by others, to the point of obsession. It often holds me back - going leagues beyond the necessary restraints or behavioral checks that, in a primate social structure, are usually necessary to prevent the most destructive consequences of unbridled hedonism and disregard for others.
As she unfolded a thirty-second detail of my apparently new and quirky reputation, I flashed painfully through the numerous incidents in my past where my natural shyness combined with this weighted overanalysis of how others percieve me, and as a result passed up opportunities for connections, experiences, and relationships that have left my life quite altered from what it could have been. Of course, I'm quite pleased with my life as it is now; but, no doubt living up to my overly introspective reputation, I always seek possible improvements.
Thus, since that very one-sided conversation last week (I can't even recall my latest reputation), I've been conducting a very unscientific experiment: I've tried to care less, even if just a little, about what others may think of me.
It's been remarkably difficult, mostly because there are still situations where I feel it is both prudent and necessary to care (even just a little) how I'm perceived. My twist so far has been to put a check on just how much energy I invest into caring. After about a week, it's still too soon to tell whether this small change will produce any lasting effect (positive or otherwise) on my outlook. It might, I would hope, at least make Zach's existence a little more tolerable, since he's often been the poor soul who's had to hear my obsessive ramblings in the past. But, only time will tell.
I am still very much a flawed creature, and I still care. But, if it doesn't offend you too much, I'm going to try not to care too much about whether you care.
Actually, even if such a move offends you too much, tough sh*t.
Posted by James at December 13, 2006 09:29 AM