Untitled I

I'm not the sharpest chunk of cheese when it comes to social situations, but I think I've realized just how far it's come. I'm awkward no matter whom I'm with, and my conversation topics aren't witty and they don't necessarily flow evenly, and I can never think of something good to say in the moment - if I'm really lucky, I can come up with something good to say ten minutes later. I stumble over my words, use too many of them to begin with, and don't have much to say in the end anyway.

Except for when I'm with my family and I'm in a giant bubble of comfort, I feel I still babble like a high school girl.

That shall change.

Part of my problem, I think, is that I take myself far too seriously. I need to remember how to joke, how to take things lightly, how to be able to turn a meaning on its head. The Scottish are good at doing that, I think; there's a bit of a spark to a lot of them, I feel, or at least the ones I've met so far (who are mostly from Glasgow, and you know what they say about Glaswegians? They have more fun at a funeral than folks from Edinburgh have at a wedding).

Anyway, despite my awkwardness, I still have fun. Tonight at Family night with the Young Single Adults, we played mafia. In retrospect, it was obvious who the mafia members were, but I didn't get it, and I was one of the last, oblivious citizens hanging about. Oh well. When people cracked jokes, I laughed heartily - I'm good at laughing and listening, and I can make a nice comment to my neighbour if I feel like it. But if we were all talking all at once, no one would hear anything, and no one would get to shine. Long ago I made my peace with not being the life of the party, but sometimes I wish I could get a little more time in the spotlight.

Sheep - one of the things that Scotland has made.