An Appeal to The Kurt

As those of us long in blogdom know, The Kurt possesses one quality in measure beyond any of the rest of us: mysteriousness. Though some have tried to unravel the innate mysteriousness of The Kurt, the man (men? pods?) remains shrouded in uncertainties, suppositions and theories. If he were still alive, Robert Stack would totally be standing in a misty alley somewhere talking about the supernatural phenomenon of The Kurt. Unfortunately for us all, it is unlikely that Robert Stack and a host of anonymous tipsters could pinpoint the whereabouts, vocation, truth of The Kurt. He's got one foot ahead of Bigfoot in that regard.

But, I am not here to appeal to The Kurt to reveal himself (herself? itself?) to me. Rather, I am here to beseech The Kurt to impart the wisdom of his ways. Because that quality which The Kurt possesses ad infinitum...well, I have ad zeronium. Help me, The Kurt. You're my only hope.

I am dating again, wandering around with the other singletons and trying to match up well. The problem is, I say too much. There's very little air of mystery around me after, oh, say thirty minutes. As you dear readers know, I'm quite proning to airing every last stitch of dirty laundry without a second thought. And I'm thinking that the male varietal might be more captivated by an air of mystery than the airing of my every thought. I try to hold my tongue. I try to consider how one would be mysterious, but it simply isn't an affectation I've mastered.

So, The Kurt, please consider a brief tutorial on mysteriousness. I'm quite sure you could get Time Life to publish it as an addendum to its Mysteries of the Unexplained series. Your guidance could be my ticket out of singledom. Please teach me how to hoodwink the boys into thinking I'm spectacularly mysterious - before I reveal my every waking-sleeping-eating-dreaming-breathing thought.

Thank you for your consideration.

Audaciously Me - Should I Be?

I am loud.

It's true.

My voice is loud. My laugh is loud. And I'm coming to believe that my personality is just a little bit loud, too.

The first day that I worked at The New Job, I remember being able to hear the whir of the ceiling fans. But the other day, my boss mentioned something about my loudness. And then The Rockstar noted that I was the most likely to say something "wildly inappropriate." And the list goes on. (But, really, STGD, I used to be way worse - you really helped me with "that's a bite.")

Now, I hear my voice every time it breaks the quiet. My laugh sounds like a bark - and I find that I try to swallow it unless it's something really funny. (Am I just reflex laughing anyway?) And before I say something, I run it through a filter. I've stopped talking quite so much, requiring me to literally bite my tongue.

When I think about it, I realize that I talk - a lot. There's one girl in the office who's getting married in three months, and I had to ask what her last name is going to be the other day - because I don't know her fiance's name. But when it comes to me, I'm an open book. I guarantee you all of my coworkers could name my family members, several friends and likely my former coworkers (that's you, STGD).

And I wonder...is this a bad thing? This loud open way that I have? Should I be quieter, listen more, talk less? It's driving my insecurity up a notch or two - and it's rather like this pinup: like finding yourself with your undies around your ankles in the middle of the room. Vulnerable and uncertain, and measuring your steps carefully so you don't end up flat on your face and embarrassed even further.

I don't know if this is me - well, okay, I know it's me. But is it me, or is it a habit I've fallen into? Much like the question I posed in a previous post...should I be more mysterious? Is this an unattractive quality about me and thus something to be refined? Or at the very least, could I give people a reason to wonder what I'm going to say? Instead of just knowing they won't have to wait long for me to say something.

And can I do it? Can I curb this impulse to spit out witticisms and puns and laugh at my own jokes and everyone else's and say everything I'm thinking? I wonder...but I think, nature or nurture, I'm going to take it upon myself to work on shutting me up before someone else tells me to do it.

On My Sleeve

Even though one of my New Year's resolutions was to "blog it out", I wonder sometimes if I say too much. I've never been known for my poker face or my bluffs. Like ol' Geo Washington, I cannot tell a lie.

But there's a difference between telling a lie and telling everything you know. And sometimes, I wonder if I err on the side of showing my hand when it really isn't necessary. I wish I was more mysterious, more of the kind of person that intrigues. But the truth is, I tend to blurt out whatever's on my mind whether or not I'm asked to share it. I often say that I'm a teller - I'll tell you anything you want to know about me. I'm a walking Freedom of Information Act.

I suppose in some ways that's how I interpreted blogging it out - using the blog as a forum to sort through things "out loud." Puzzle through whatever is on my mind and come to some conclusion.

But sometimes, I think I've got my thoughts too much on my sleeve. I feel like Slim Goodbody - all my insides on the outside, exposed. Which is my own fault. No one's forcing me to tell what I tell...but is it too much? It was all good and well for Slim to have his spleen on the outside, but I wonder...does everyone wish I'd stop venting mine?

In Sheep's Clothing

Now that I've declared my independence, announced my plans to depart, and given my notice at work, I'm a mere month away from being an unemployed waif. I've sent out a couple of resumes, but I admit that my heart hasn't been in it. It's not because I don't want a job or because I don't think that jobs are out there. It's more a sudden inescapable feeling that I am...well, a fraud. I know on some rational level that it would be silly to think I could've kept my job for almost six years without having some skill. But it's one thing to succeed in the known arena, and another thing entirely to go back out into the marketplace to peddle your wares.

Yesterday, I interviewed someone who might replace me. Someone more than 15 years more senior than I am, and I felt a bit foolish asking her to describe her work experience. As if, at 27, I could possibly compete with her body of work, much less question her competence for the position. I actually confessed to her on the phone that I wasn't quite qualified for the position I hold. I just blurted it out before I had time to consider the context and the inappropriateness of telling an interview candidate that I have very little business conducting the interview.

She asked me if I felt like I had a good portfolio as I head out into the world to find another job. And I said yes. Yes, because I am proud of what I've accomplished. And I think that my work is good. But what if what I think doesn't hold water in the outside world? I can make all the pronouncements I want about my pride in my job and how I think it's good...but at this point, it's ultimately someone else's opinion that's going to matter. And I do know enough about this industry to know that it has the potential to be cutthroat and catty and condescending.

I keep imagining myself across from some unbearably hip executive who is making dismissive noises paging through my portfolio. I see the doors closing behind me; feel the impending sense of failure knowing that I will not get a call back. It all reminds me of a one-act play called The Actor's Nightmare. In it, a bewildered actor bounces from scene to scene, not knowing the words or the context and inevitably muddling everything. I feel quite like that now, like I've fallen into a performance where I should know the words because I've studied the script, but in the end, that great big hook is going to come out from behind the curtain and yank my incompetent self off the stage.

Loose Lips Sink Ships

I've never been able to keep my mouth shut. It's a rather famous family story that when my brother made the eighth grade basketball team, he left me home alone to go celebrate with his best friend Andrew and admonished me not to tell my mother when she arrived home. But when the time came, try as I might, I couldn't lie, my lips quirking up on both sides as I tried to sound miserable and say that he hadn't made the team. I don' remember what Justin said when he found at I'd told - I guess he knew better the next time.

If I were in Harry Potter, I'd never be anyone's secret-keeper. Not because I'm not loyal. On the contrary: I'm loyal to a fault, more willing than most to sacrifice myself for the comfort of others. But what I know and - possibly more intensely - what I feel, I must tell. And even when I have the best intentions of not telling, the words come tumbling out of my mouth before I even know what's happening.

Perhaps all the secretiveness was taken up by my sister, who is classically trained in evasion tactics. If she has no interest in telling you something, she is not easily tricked into doing so. I, on other hand, will tell my life's secrets with only the slightest provocation. I find myself telling people things all the time that I will think only later that I should've kept to myself.

I wish I were more secretive and mysterious, but I am the proverbial open book. I seem to have no control over the emotions that play across my face, and when I try to exert control, it's so unnatural that people can easily discern that I'm trying to hide something. And when one word would do, I overcompensate with ten. I'm like Bridget Jones with my chronic verbal diarrhea.

Even when I admonish myself again and again and again that I will not say something aloud, I will inevitably end up scolding myself inwardly when I'm mid-story with someone. And not a lover of conflict, I often find myself telling the wrong things to the wrong people. In order to exorcise myself of what I'm feeling, I tell Person A when I should really be addressing things with Person B. Some people suffer in silence, but I find that I must suffer aloud. And one of these days, my runaway tongue is going to get me in trouble.

While some may find this sort of open-facedness charming, I find it often comes along with a fair measure of regret when I realize that I've said too much. And there is something to be said for reservation when it's appropriate, as it keeps one from being altogether inappropriate. My loose tongue instead seems to plague me. It's rather a character flaw, I find, to need to tell my story all the time. Even now, I'm wondering if I've said too much.