I use ‘awkward’ and ‘silly’ as descriptive words on Twitter because they’re truthful but only few people realize this as fact. So, to contextualize, here’s a story:
Tonight I went to accompany a friend to see some new artworks on exhibit. The show’s name, We are not Aimless, is the battlecry of the young made most apt by young artists who used bright colors and whimsy in general to convey promise (if not direction–just yet!) So anyway, as a general premise, these events are often filled with familiar faces and friends who are lovers and makers of art. It’s often very pleasant and even when the art doesn’t really hit you as something you’d like to talk about, the people will always be worth one’s while. I missed Carina tonight because she is the art junkie with the better descriptions and beautiful pictures but anyway…I met a friend whom I rarely see and in that crowd was this writer whose work was very special to me.
Normally I’d just go out and say it, you know? I like making a mess of myself when the person involved hardly penetrates my own inner circle. It’s a defensive mechanism that lowers the inhibitions (like alcohol) and serves to buttress any kind of self-worth left after an encounter. (Geez, they aren’t aliens but I swear, they’re placed on pedestals when I love them, apparently!) Nyah nyah nyah, here’s where the fangirlishness affects my ability to write properly. This feeling is akin to the time I asked Gemino Abad if he wrote—We were sharing a table. He was biting into a sandwich and of course I read Abad…I just didn’t know what he’d look like. At least he didn’t choke. He just grinned, ate, talked about spiders and took his leave. It was only later, when he spoke in a forum, that his face became known to me and boy, did I ever want to be bitten by those poisonous spiders of his.
Many stories later…
Tonight. It happened again except this time I really hadn’t planned on introducing myself until I got the words right.
Yet another story…
Early last year my friend had been egging me to let her introduce us because they were close and instead of saying yes, I hesitated with a passion. How do you sincerely tell a person that you love their work? That is something most people never do for various reasons I’ve never quite understood but anyway, add friends into the picture and it just seems silly to have to admit any kind of love, right? But voluntary hesitation (ooh, wordplay!) has it’s limits.
I told my friend not to do it but I guess she didn’t realize the extent of wordvomit and tomato-blushing I was capable of. So there. It happened.
Now if only his book were not called Happy Endings I would probably have felt less of a biting ache in my heart when he exhibited the nonchalance I normally expect to get when I get awkward. In any case, I spoke too fast and couldn’t really say much else because really, when the heart’s out there what else do you do, right? bleah bleah. Thank god for A and Petranny who were the best people to be with after. It softens the blow to have friends around, I suppose and anyway, I was content to have done it. At least it’s out there.
My point being…
If you ask me what I’ve learned so far, it’s that the Universe responds best to those who trust it. It’s good advice from yet another friend but after tonight I’m really going to trust just because it really works.
After I posted the last entry, I checked my email and found a message that made everything right again. Of course there’s more to it than that. I still haven’t talked about the book or the strange string of friends whom I’ve met or known better on account of it. But suffice it so say for now that this–all of this: the silliness and the awkwardness–is exactly what happy endings are made of.