I’m going to simplify my format and skip the links for a while. I’d like these to feel like letters more than anything else. (so write back if you feel so inclined)
flake
Like the layers of Claire Saffitz’s biscuit recipe, I’m defined by my extreme flakiness. Ever since high school, I’ve become a master of the non-response response to invitations. The “I’ll definitely try to make it,” “I’ll let you know,” and “I’ll check my schedule,” are all a part of my esteemed repetoire. By giving a non-committal answer, I absolve my future self of all guilt when I fail to extract myself from bed at the time of the function. This stems from how I used to accept invitations and always end up having to come up with an excuse, feeling like a terrible person all the while.
I’m a pathological flake. Every event sounds so exciting when I hear about it and want to agree to it and every event sounds so horribly menacing when I realize that I actually have to go. I’m extremely fortunate to have a wild imagination, except that it’s only active when brainstorming disaster scenarios for every possible event I accept an invite to. I’m not always clear as to how going to the dinner party leads to me losing my pants resulting in a cacophony of laughs at my expense, but the threat feels very real all the same. The more terrifying scenario is the one where I end up in the corner zoned out on my phone, wishing I was in bed when I could have easily been in bed.
This puts me in a tough situation because I’m starting to realize (for the billionth time) that I’m not purely an introvert. Although I’ve thought of my self as the intro-est of verts for a while, I realize that I become a misanthropic rage monster if I’m left alone for too long and that most social interaction turns me into a smiling baby koala (or whatever the opposite of a misanthropic rage monster is). I still love my alone time, but I tend to overvalue it since being alone is comfortable, especially when alone time includes access to YouTube.com.
I have this habit of alternating between socializing constantly and being a hermit. Each of these phases feels great initially and eventually morphs into exhaustion or restlessness that makes me unhappier than I was before. The obvious solution would be to seek balance, but that’s always easier said than done. When the people in your life get used to you never wanting to hang out, it’s hard to shift that view. And when they get used to you wanting to hang out constantly, changing that can feel alienating.
I don’t have a lot of strong friendships in San Francisco yet. I’m trying to be cognizant of the way my mind works and keeps me from forming the relationships I want. So I’m on a journey to become less flaky. If I were a biscuit, that would involve using room temperature butter instead of cold butter. (Un)fortunately, I’m not a biscuit, so I’ll just focus on reminding myself that I probably won’t lose my pants and listening to that one Jack Johnson song:
It seems to me that maybe
It pretty much always means no
So don't tell me you might just let it go
And oftentimes we're lazy
It seems to stand in my way
Because no one, no, not one
Likes to be let down
“Flake” by Jack Johnson
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With alacrity,
Nikhil