social skills are for suckers

I don’t really remember a lot about my childhood. I don’t think I was really paying attention, to be honest. I don’t really remember too many life lessons from my parents regarding social skills, but like I said, I don’t remember a lot about my childhood. I’ll be working on the assumption that social skills took a backseat to education and life in general. However, to be fair, I chose to spend most of my childhood with my nose in a book, a controller in my hand, or a keyboard at my fingertips, so it can hardly be a surprise that I have the social acumen of a paperclip (excluding Microsoft’s Clippy, of course).

At the drop of a hat I can stand in front of a room and give a presentation or speech on a topic with which I am only slightly acquainted and exude a nigh unshakable air of confidence, because this is a matter of intelligence and knowledge, and I am confident in my intelligence and knowledge (though we’ll get into that topic more in a later entry). When it comes to talking to people in social settings, however, I fade into the background, hoping I won’t be noticed. This is not because I am uncomfortable with the other person/people, or because I am intimidated or afraid. This is also a matter of intelligence and knowledge. I simply do not know how to start, carry, or end a regular conversation. I don’t recall learning this as a child (an argument can be made that since I don’t remember learning it, I obviously didn’t), so my social development has been slightly hindered, and I am at a point in my personal development that it is difficult to imagine starting to learn now. When faced with this inability to do something so basic and supposedly simple as talking to another human being, I retreat into myself and wait for it to end.

So, if you have ever had the misfortune to find yourself with me in a social setting, I apologize for any misconceptions you may have had. I do not dislike you. I do not think you are boring or mundane. I am not trying to be rude, or insulting. I simply don’t know how to talk to you.

oklahoma city

Sometime around 7:55am (CST) on the morning of Wednesday, October 27, 1982 in Norman, OK a child was born. I’m sure many children were born at the same time around the world, and perhaps within that very same hospital, but the child that we will concern ourselves with primarily for the duration of this website will be, naturally, me. This is not to say that those other children are of no significance to the world. This is to say that they are of no significance to me or my life, as far as I know or am concerned. Sorry, other children. This is not your story.

I may have been born in Norman, OK, but my parents (and I, though that should go without saying) lived in Oklahoma City (in Oklahoma, for those of you who aren’t too sharp with a map). Oklahoma City wasn’t a bad place to be a kid, as far as I can tell; the school system was decent, the city was fairly quiet and calm, and we got snow in the winter. Looking back, it reminds me in a lot of ways of Fresno (my current home [future edit: no longer my current home, I have taken up residence in beautiful Long Beach, which is dramatically different than both Oklahoma City and Fresno]); it’s fine for kids and old people, but there really isn’t a lot of variety for young adults. Then again, that’s just fine for me because I’m a fairly boring individual.

Why is this important? A great deal of my childhood stories will take place in Oklahoma City. Now you know why.