She was incredulous and asked how you could survive. I mean, people expect you to have tact and be polite and say all that stuff about your kids and the weather. And there will be consequences if you don't.
So, I thought about it. And finally understood what happens with me. I told her, "I always am exactly who I am and you know what, people get used to me. Not just in the tolerating way either, but really get to know what to expect and not expect. It's as if I don't see the rules of social stuff and because I believe they don't apply, well they don't."
She then asked about work. I'm a tutor and she wondered how I managed to be me and teach. You're apparently supposed to encourage and stuff like that, that I never got the hang of. Jo-Anne came and watched one session to see what it was like and get in a little math while she was at it. To give an example, right before Evelyn took her Calculus Exam, she complained, "Oh. I seriously feel like I am going to throw up..."
I clapped my hands together and said, "Yes! Finally!"
She looked at me and slowly asked, "You're...happy that I feel sick?"
I smiled and said, "Of course. You see, when you feel like you're about to throw up, it's often because you've studied so much that you can't take any more. So this means you're really, finally ready for the exam as we can get you. Go show 'em how it's done."
That was okay because Evelyn's my student, but what about my elders? People who have control over what happens to me?
Well, in juries. I filled out my forms just as I am. When it asked for student goals over the term, I said on one sheet, "sanity, breathing, and becoming a bigger voice without resorting to weight gain." Or what studies we emphasized this term, I responded, "Lots of voice stuff, working on high notes and middle notes, and a lot of buxom sort of "big mama" sounds."
As I got done with the singing and was walking back up to get the sheets, Dr. Aamot, with a sparkling smirk said, "Thank you, Jen. I didn't know that I could enjoy someone's jury sheets that much." I wasn't sure what he meant, but my pianist, knowing me, shooed me out immediately. Talk about getting used to me, she knew if I spoke then I'd embarrass us both and she was probably right. I found out later on that you're supposed to have more technical languages on those sorts of things and buxom was probably not the best choice of adjective.
And with my piano class. We decided to go out for coffee and when we got there, the only place that could seat the five of us, had one person already sitting at it. They didn't know what to do, so I said, "Well, isn't it obvious, well just find out if that lady minds us sitting by her and if she does we'll find somewhere else." Several protests began, stuff about socially awkward, but I didn't really notice since I was too busy asking the stranger if she minded. When I returned to the group and said she had said it was fine, someone in the group muttered, "Only you could get away with that, Jen. Only you..." But they accepted it.
And in Gamelan, when I started playing with the nine-year old. Well, the Mom for example apparently thought I was playing with her daughter to be nice. She said, "Thanks for watching Teresa. It frees me up to do other stuff." I looked at the Mom and said, "Oh, but I'm not really watching her. I think you might want to keep a look out, since I'm really just playing." Teresa beamed. I think until then she thought I was supposed to be supervising her. No. I just wanted to play. The rest of the Gamelan was used to me, so didn't find it strange anymore that I was crawling around in the grass or whittling a wooden flute. It's just "Jen" they say and get back to talking.
Several people this week have thanked me, though. It's been funny, but they've all thanked me in their own way for always being "very much myself." Through all the oddities and social awkwardness, they said that the could always count on me to be totally genuine. And one mentioned that it frees them up to be the same.
So, as my voice teacher sighs while I'm having so much fun on her ball, I forget to sing, or as my student rolls their eyes when I honestly say they were thinking totally wrong, but in a fascinating manner, or as Kim looks at a brightly colored, clashing towel and says, "It's on sale for a reason, but yeah, it fits you all right." Well, now I'm beginning to see. They find it (as one close friend so accurately described) "frustratingly endearing." And knowing that, I see a bit of the spiritual gifts I've been given.
Haha. And the biggest of those is really just to be "very much myself."
