After returning from Teen Resource Center's workshop on Asians and partying, I realized that I am a closeted introvert, masquerading as an extrovert whose garrulous qualities garner a pity party. I entered through MOCA's front doors and was directed towards the back. As I headed past the gallery and its gaping walls I heard my own oxfords on the wooden floors. When I reached the entrance I was greeted by two young women who worked for the center. But information overload kicked in and I completely forgot what they told me as I entered inside. I usually forget people's names after they introduce themselves to me. I suppose I am in the moment of smiling and managing my impression that I completely blank out when they tell me their name. 9 out of 10 times their names fly past me and I end up asking their friend or people around me what their name is. This ignorance is unintentional and definitely unflattering. Realizing that I blew past everyone in front of me, I bean-counted and look for other Asians like me. I also sought out familiar faces like Joe's. I said hi to him and clung onto him for the rest of the night as an armrest and an anchor in a place I could hardly call home. The space was fairly claustrophobic for my taste and the moment Marilla inserted herself, I felt like she would divulge information about me to the people I am speaking to. She told them that I am not a stranger because I attend every open mic. Some parts of her subtle disclaimer hinted a certain level of aversion. Maybe it's an aversion towards my feverish passion for singing and playing guitar. This hearkens my neighbor Rebecca's statements that her best friend Christine loathes me because I'm 'too into my guitar.' Certainly jealousy or envy cannot be the culprit because I don't have much to be jealous of. I cannot attest to this because I am not another person. It is one thing to compliment, but it is another to backhand someone through a pseudo-compliment. I found the night rather blase because I did not discover anything new. Though "perspective" was the keyword of the night and YOLO was a rhetorical meme floating around, I did not learn anything new. I suppose perspective was intrinsic to the Q&A session because by having four speakers, you get four different perspectives. This is obvious and a no-brainer. At the end of the night I wanted to ask the speakers if they had anything new to add, anything that wasn't a clone of what the other presenters said. I wanted to inflict my injurious criticism and take the floor. But not everything is about me as I assume it should be. I cannot ingratiate myself with other people by being flattering, colorful, and ostentatious. Tonight was not my night to shine and I have taken my voracious appetite for attention way too far. It is one thing to be invited to an event, but it is another to invite yourself to an event that is exclusive.
I feel like an introvert because I hardly speak to anyone. I hardly take the initiative to speak to anyone. I am clearly disinterested. Or I feel like I have something to lose if I opened my mouth. These are the insecurities plaguing me because I feel like I am vulnerable. Vulnerable to what? Who am I to be so smug and insecure about myself to the point where I have to wait for people to speak to me? I have no status to await applause or shine of shoes. I have to take initiative and open my mouth. Yes, the presenters are right: we are social beings who prefer to be in the company of other social creatures. I did not head down to MOCA on this rainy night just to admire the walls or to say Hi to Joe. I went down to be around other Asian teenagers. I have and share a sense of affinity with them. That is the obvious reason why I went down there in the first place. But I always have expectations. I cannot even stop myself from having expectations because I will slip past my guard and have expectations anyway. I know that I can catch myself when I do certain things that are irrational, but I cannot escape from having high expectations. When the food trays appeared and the TRC staff approached me I receded into my shell and become incredibly insecure about my weight and diet. Upon the gaze of two women in black dresses, I told them no thank you as if they were scrutinizing my weight. I pretended that I did not want to eat, and if I did pick up one thing off the tray I would eat it parsimoniously. I became so insecure that I hid my hunger and told them to back off, not to disturb me. This is not tactful, it is plain irreverent even in a casual setting like this (Thank God it wasn't a wedding). I treated the women like they were disrespectful to me, as if I could get food myself. I saw the kind act of catering as a shove in the face, as an intrusion of independence. It was as if I was being robbed of my masculinity and that I could not help myself to chicken wings with my own bare hands. I can't understand why I was so closed off and standoffish tonight. What was I trying to hide? Better yet, what was I trying to uphold? Was I trying to be smug and keep my pride on its pedestal? If so, I did a fairly good job at being standoffish. No wonder no one approached me. It is more of the aura I give off than any other preconceived notion of self-identity I keep to myself.
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