As I may have alluded to here once or twice (ha!), my transition to southern belle has been a little rocky. I love it here, I really do; this town is, as I’m fond of saying, very much like my hometown but with more bacon. In the sense that a new area could feel like HOME purely on objective environment, it’s aces. Nevertheless, it’s a new place and that brings its own stressors along with it, like having to find everything again and make new friends and just feel like I BELONG.
I don’t know if you have noticed this, because I hide it so well (what with the being incredibly suave and all), but I am sort of an awkward person in general. In any given situation I am apt to manage to meet the bare minimum of polite interaction while feeling like a giant Fakey McFakerpants on the inside, so this elusive feeling of BELONGING is something that doesn’t come easily to me, even when I HAVEN’T just uprooted my entire life and moved to a different part of the country.
Frequent commenter Amy-Go (who really needs her own blog already) (I’m just sayin’) (HINT, HINT) is not only a really lovely human being who has been known to send me pie in the mail (and that, as I’m sure you know, puts her somewhere between Ghandi and Mother Teresa on the sainthood scale) and whom I finally met this summer, she is also a veteran mover. I don’t know how many times she has had to pack up her family and relocate, but she is an expert, is what I’m saying. And because she’s so pretty and nice, even though she’d just had major surgery, when she noticed me feeling a little blue she immediately reached out to me.
Allow me to summarize our string of emails in this way:
Her: Are you okay?
Me: Yes. No. Maybe. Except for the part where I’m not, sure.
Her: You know, I have moved a whole bunch. Maybe I can help?
Me: Oh! That’s right, you HAVE! Okay, tell me what to do. Because I know people but I do not KNOW PEOPLE and I am sad and snivelly and I probably need to stop calling my girlfriends back up in New England and crying on them.
Her: Well… have you found a church? Are you back to singing in the choir?
Me: We’ve found a church, but I don’t know, they haven’t called or visited and I think we fell through the cracks because we started in the summer and one of the pastors was away and there is nothing WRONG with it but I am just not getting that WARM FUZZY and I don’t want to join the choir if we’re not going to stay and I don’t know, it is not my old church and therefore I cannot give it my whole heart, WAH WAH WAH WAH DOOM AND GLOOM.
Her: Sheesh. Join the choir, woman. It’s a CHOIR, not a lifelong commitment. Quit yer whining and go.
Me: *meekly* Okay.
So I went and joined the choir. You know, to meet people. And also because choir was an important part of my life, back up north, for all of the sorts of reasons that people who sing in church choirs really dig it. (I shall not bore you with my religious convictions. Surely someone would point out that they clash terribly with my liberal use of potty words.)
The first rehearsal I went to, I just sat there and sang where I was supposed to, and figured that maybe afterwards some people would talk to me. Not so much. Everyone left the minute the director said “thanks for coming,” scattering after just a couple of quick, “Hi, welcome”s.
I was a little disappointed. But I told myself that I needed to be patient. I also completely forgot the part where being nervous causes me to firmly lodge my foot in my mouth, anyway, and how I was probably better off having not, you know, TALKED to anyone. But I was soon to remember!
At the second rehearsal, I managed to arrive a little earlier, and I was met coming up the aisle by two women whom I didn’t recognize from the first rehearsal.
“Hi,” said one of them. “You must be Mir!”
I looked around behind me. Because I am smooth. “I must be!” I agreed. “Hi!”
“We heard about you,” the other woman said. My face must’ve reflected the panic I felt, because she rushed on, “Nothing bad! We heard you’re an alto, that you have a lovely voice, and that you’re a great sight-reader!”
“Oh!” I said, relieved. “Well… wow.” They were both looking at me expectantly.
This is the point at which a NORMAL HUMAN would say “thank you.” But as I have not yet outgrown that awkward phase, here’s what I said, instead:
“You know, this is a problem. I mean, I like to set the bar low, so that there’s no disappointments later on.” They chuckled, perhaps wondering if I had been dropped on my head as a baby. “So, yeah, it’s true that I’m an alto, but I’m actually a pretty lousy sight-reader.” They started to look uncomfortable, but I JUST KEPT TALKING. “What I AM, you see, is a really good mimic. The woman sitting behind me was pitch perfect, and I just sang what she did.” Now the two woman were looking at each other, clearly wondering how to respond. Since I was already well past my ankle with the foot-gnawing, I decided to give them an easy out. “I don’t know her name!” I continued, gaily. “She is pretty! And has short hair?”
“OH!” said one of them, relieved to be back on NON-CRAZY YAMMERING territory. “That’s… is she tall?” I nodded. Truly, I have no idea if she’s tall or not. She was sitting down, you know. “I think that’s Jane. Yes. Probably it was Jane. She has a nice voice.”
“Yes she does,” I agreed. “I’ll just do what she does! And people will think I know what I’m doing! Haha!”
We all looked at each other for a moment.
“Well it was really nice to meet you!” I said, and slunk off to my seat while they ran away from me as quickly as possible.
Yep. Choir is going to be AWESOME.
I can’t wait for what you say when you meet Jane!
Oh God, I feel your pain. I so put my foot in my mouth on a constant basis–I think all the things that sound funny and witty in my head don’t translate well to, you know, normal human coversation. And also, sarcasm is my best friend, but SO MANY people don’t get it. Pity.
That didn’t seem so bad. In fact, it sounded a lot like something I’d say. Is that wrong?
mmmmm….delicious fooooot….
yeah. This is why I don’t talk to people unless there’s a keyboard involved. It’s just easier that way.
But good for you for taking the plunge for all the awkward girls.
(what’s worse: pretty much same story as you with the friends and the belonging and I’ve lived here MY WHOLE LIFE. Yep, I’m pathetic. You, however are pretty. And have fabulous shoes.)
Here’s my helpful hint:
In mid conversation, where you’ve rambled on and things have become socially awkward and your brain is screaming “Shut up, shut up, shut up!” do that. Just stop talking for a moment. Ignore your faux pas and immediately follow up with an innocuous question like, “Hey, where is the best place to get fresh veggies around here?” That way your conversational partner(s) have to think of a response, then answer your query. And lo, you’ve sucessfully distracted them.
It works. Trust me, I do this a lot these days.
I SO feel your pain. I moved to the States 6 years ago, the only “friends” I have is at work. I’m really a very shy person, and I don’t know how to overcome this lonely lonely mountain I’m calling my life. My husband is an introvert so couldn’t care less about being around other people. We don’t have any kidlets (only a fluffy pooch) so there isn’t even any opportunity there to meet anyone. I miss my circle of friends and family back in South Africa a lot! Oops, did that sound as if I’m indulging in a pity party…? :-)
Oh Mir, I just want to hug you and squish you! Wait.. that’s kind of the same thing. I have fought with my foot-in-mouth-edness for many, many years. I can remember being kneehigh to a grasshopper and repeating back adult jokes to my GRANDMA because I thought they would make her laugh and she kind of scared me and since people aren’t scary when they are laughing, well, why not!
Then there was the too-long phase where I figured if I could shock someone with a mention of a female body part at least once a day, people might, oh I don’t know, think I was exciting or crazy.
And yeah… people did. Except there are many people now who I run into who remember me from those tequila days who say “wow, um, so you have, like, kids?”
Yeah, real ones that I feed each day. And not salsa and chips either.
It has only been in the last year, I swear, that I have started to shut my fool mouth every time THAT voice in my head says “hey! hey! Wouldn’t it be funny if we said….”
This could also coincide with the day I stuck this quote up on my computer:
Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.
I only win the shut up battle about half the time….
I went to the first PTA meeting at my son’s new school. We have moved exactly five blocks, but out of the “city” and into a “suburb.” New school district. At his old school–the “good” public school with involved parents and GT program–had lots of professional working parents who were kind of like me. The new school has a fantastic reputation and so far no complaints; but everyone in the PTA seems to be a stay at home mom. I came from work and had on a wrap dress and heels, they were all in cute jeans and tops. Ugh. I signed up for a committee and vowed to suck it up.
Thank goodness my son (6yr in 2nd grade)didn’t have as much trouble adjusting. He thinks it’s great and has found some friends.
My husband is from Atlanta, then lived in DC (where we met) and then I dragged him up to Buffalo, NY (where I grew up) two years ago. It took him a while to find friends up here and adjust to the “culture.” But it gets easier.
Give it some more time Mir, and I’ll keep sending you good thoughts.
how I know the feeling. . . . and why is the simple “thank you.” JUST SO HARD TO SAY? I practice and practice and practice. . . . and still, when I’m not looking, more words. sigh. Well, there’s next week again. And don’t they give ‘do-overs’ if they’re the church types? What a wonderful concept: the do-over.
Thank you.
I know exactly what you mean about knowing people but not actually knowing people.
If you had done that awkward talking thing with me, it would have made me positive that we were meant to be friends. My kind of people are the ones who say things that are not expected. You’ll find your people soon enough. If not, would you consider a move to Illinois? The house across the street from me is for sale.
My mom plays organ for the choir and started a little rocky too. She now has a million friends there and finally feels at home. I hope the same happens for you. You deserve it!
Hey, sight-reading as an alto is a piece of cake. All you have to do is sing a third lower than the melody and you’re set. That, or just find an E-flat and sit on it for the entire piece.
See, this is how *I* awkwardly kill conversations in which people compliment my sight-reading skills. You did me one better – instead of pooh-poohing the compliment, you complimented someone else in the choir! That’s much better!
Ditto what Tori said! I would have laughed and sat near you, not looked at you like you were crazy. I also have the “finding MY PEOPLE” problem…I moved to the Atlanta suburbs about two years ago and have only met two people that I consider my people and one moved away :( I also didn’t feel at home at any of the churches we tried, so we just stopped going. And I don’t have any kids (yet!) to give me an excuse to meet other women through them. I have, however, discovered the power of the internet…instead of internet dating, there is internet friend-finding! My two favs are Craigslist and ExerciseFriends.com. You may also want to try to see if there are any Yahoo groups in your area that you can join. I did that for a while when I first moved here, but didn’t have the time (or money) to drive into the city every time the group planned an outing. Sometimes, being a grown-up really sucks…life seemed so much easier when I was a kid! Good luck, Mir, and just remember that your internet friends are always here for you!
Hahahaha! I’m so sorry, but that is hilarious. I think you’re kind of like me, too, in that I CANNOT take a compliment. Whenever anyone gives me a compliment I immediately start telling the person either A) how old the item is that they are complimenting (usually ancient) B) how little I paid for it or C) start talking about some other part of me that is defective. Why can’t we just say “Thanks.”
Oh how I feel for you. I’ve moved 30+ times in my 27 years on this earth, and it really never gets easier. I’ve been in Atlanta now for nearly a year and I still feel like I don’t have any friends. I know some people and I like (some) people, but they are real friends. Jamie has her friends and they are nice to me. But I just…sigh. Joining things is definitely the right way to go. I’ve been trying to force myself to join meetup groups, book clubs, etc. But it’s a catch-22 because it’s SO HARD to walk into a group of people who already know each other and be the new person.
I don’t really have any advice for you other than “keep at it”. But I can totally sympathise and I know how you feel. I hope the choir gets better and better. The women sound nice, so hopefully soon you’ll be great friends and you’ll be laughing together at how awkward you felt at your first meeting.
As a fellow New Enlander, I feel your pain. I dont think I would last three minutes in the South or well, anywhere near the South. If I can scream “F you!” at my neighbor when they merely say good morning and have it be acceptable and not shocking in the least, well then I cant live there. Because in my neighborhood, the F YOU’s flow like water. And not one of us bats an eyelash.
Perhaps if we move south, I can follow the F you with a “dahlin”?
Um, yeah. That CAN should read CAN’T. If I CAN’T scream F You.
Need coffee.
Mir you are just like me, except well, thinner, and more married and with a pool, and maybe less of an atheist. Yep. Just like me.
I feel your pain. While I don’t have the “foot in mouth” thing, necessarily (although sometimes I babble a bit, which I think scares people, because I’m just talkative), I’m having a hard time finding people to befriend in my new hometown. I love the area itself, but people are very, ah…”Let’s get together and be BFF, okay?” But if you try to do anything with anyone or try to get to know them, they run off in fright. Or something.
I’ve moved quite a few times in the past 10 years and I’ve never had this much trouble. I think the town has an issue. *winks*
Good luck! All we can do is keep trying, right? (Well, and keep our feet on the ground instead of in our mouths.)
Well, clearly they did not appreciate your sense of humor and would be really boring friends to have, anyway. Or they were intimidated by your wit because they could not possibly compare. I don’t think you should have to censor yourself so that some Miss Fakey McFakerpants will find you socially acceptable. Be yourself, and you will soon find someone just perfect for you. If you censor yourself and get stuck with the McFakerpantses, then you might not find the perfect person.
Isn’t that the advice you would give your kids? You are perfect the way you are.
I’m a chronic offender of not following my own advice. And as someone who is a tad… umm… reclusive because of her awkwardness, I really know where you’re coming from. My husband and I moved to Cape Cod about a year and a half ago from NJ and I’m still struggling with how to make friends because apparently I didn’t pay attention to the process when I was a kid.
Um, at least you have US? :)
I am going to make it a point to use “Fakey McFakerpants” at work today. *lol*
Maybe you could just hand out little slips of paper with your blog address on them. That way people can find out how articulate and funny you really are!
Awkward situations like that are the stories of my life!
You are just like me but with older kids and farther south.
Is this why we write instead of speak? Because we are much funnier, smarter, etc. on paper (or screen) than in person.
You think that’s bad!?! This morning, talking to someone I’ve known for less than a week, but would really like to befriend, I ended up talking about child molestation for 10 minutes. Child molestation. For 10 minutes. What the hell is wrong with me? So you could have done a lot worse.
Mir, you’re just normal. Completely, amazingly, humorously normal. That’s all I’m sayin’.
Well, that and kudos to Amy-Go for getting you to leave the house for your own benefit. She was spot on with her advice. Those people will be rolling in the aisles once they have a chance to get to know you. I would anyway. And then I’d get “The Look” from the director for being a disturbance during practice. Ummm, not that that’s happened in real life or anything…
It seems to me that the two Dear Ladies just aren’t hip enough to get your funny joke… perhaps sopranos? Hee. *I* would have laughed and said, “let’s be friends.”
Perhaps the foot in mouth would be better with a liberal application of Bacon Salt? Just a thought…I to suffer from a severe case of foot in mouth accompanied from occasional outbreaks of lack of tact so I do feel your pain!
Oh you make me remember why I enjoy wallflower status so much. I too have a potty mouth, one that at times can make truckrs blush…and yet people find it hard to believe I’m Quaker. Hmmm, I wonder why?
Small talk is hard for even the most gregarious sorts. I think you did just fine. Try and focus on the music, and enjoying singing, and I bet slowly you’ll start to get comfortable enough to crack jokes with the person sitting next to you, and then she’ll crack a joke back and voila, friends!
PS Ive met you and i think you are lovely and not awkward at all!!!
I completely understand though…I always imagine myself being a great conversationalist…and then when people approach me I clam up and say something completely idiotic and vow never to leave the house again.
I think that the comments prove that most of us feel as though we go through life as Fakey McFakerpants.
oh dear…I call this phenomenon “chutes and ladders” because I spend time chattering aimlessly and I fly down a chute and crawl back up a ladder and HOLY COW WOULD I PLEASE STOP TALKING so they can walk away graciously!? It is so awful. I do it so often that I have a freaking name for it, Mir. And Brian and I have worked on exit strategies for the darn phenomenon. I am socially inept as well. I feel for you, fakey mcfakerpants, I really do. Small talk and I do not mix. ack.
*sigh*
We are evil twins, separated at birth.
I also spend much of my life hopping ’round on one foot mumbling around the other one, in part because I’m just awkward, but also as I am stricken with the need to make with the funny. I guess because I was the youngest in my generation of my family and only got any attention if I made the rest laugh and am also rather soft spoken and often get overlooked unless I make people laugh. Which frequently results in a mouth full of foot, because no one is that funny.
And el-e-e is right. They must have been sopranos. Serious types, those sopranos. *ducks behind the other altos*
Okay, when it was just Chickadee being a younger version of Drama Queen, it was amusing. Now you’re blogging about my bouts with depression and social anxiety and it’s starting to feel a little creepy.
I kid. But I think I know how you feel. Here’s the thing, YOU don’t let it paralyze you. I do. We’ve been going to the same church for several years and I introduce myself to people who don’t recognize me next week. (maybe they’re just ignoring the weirdo…) Congratulations on taking the bull by the horns. Keep me posted on how it goes.
One of your brilliant commenters already came up with a great solution: Turn the conversation in their direction and ask a question. Stand back, smile and nod. Then ask another one. People love it when you express interest in them (well, MOST people!) and it’ll take the heat off of you.
Since we all suffer from the same problem I think someone needs to jump on the band wagon and start an Internet friend “dating” site. (Seriously, it feels like dating!) Or how about modifying speed dating and making it a forum to meet new friends?
As for the saying thank you thing? I once heard that it was a sign of maturity to say thank you when someone gives you a compliment, rather than putting yourself down, now every time I open my mouth my little voice screams “pretend you are mature!!!”
Oh, Mir. I feel for you. I’ve been in the South all my life and still don’t “fit in.” My most cherished friends have been those from the North or other countries (who, unfortunately, have only been here long enough to finish up a degree or postdoc or what have you, then moved on…though still great email buddies, and I have free places to stay almost anywhere I want to travel). So, I can only wish you luck and suggest you keep your ear out for a nice familiar Yankee accent or one from across an ocean.
Regarding the foot in mouth disease, I’m with you on that one, too. I once told the head of our neurobiology department that when he entered the room…let me quote myself properly on this one…”When you enter the room, it makes me want to vomit.” Seriously. I should have my mouth duct-taped. (i simply wanted to express how his presence made me nervous and clam up, unable to answer any questions intelligently…umm, yeh, i didn’t emerge from there with a PhD) He handled it with concern, “Oh my! Do you think I have this effect on others as well?” To which I continued with my foot smorgasbord, “Probably.”
Next rehearsal just don’t arrive early. Then you won’t be forced to talk to anyone. Problem solved! No wait a minute, that doesn’t help with the whole belonging thing…Nevermind.
I am so GLAD to read those first paragraphs. I’ve been worried about you, and I mean that in the kindest way possible. Things sound better!
Maybe, just maybe… those two church ladies were thinking about SOMETHING else. Perhaps they were thinking you were funny AND had quite the way with words AND you had pretty hair. All that AND a great alto? They were probably intimidated. Or maybe, they were thinking “Gosh, I’m really shy and not good at meeting people. What should I say next to make this woman feel welcome?” My point is… you never know what people are thinking. It’s truly hard to guess.
Please go back. And give us an update. Heck, bring them pie, too!
I’m old and I’ve done both the just say “thank you” and I’ve jabbered on incessantly. They both tend to leave me thinking “OMG, I totally screwed up that conversation”. When I jabber it can be terrifying what comes out of my mouth and when I’m mature people think I’m a little slow. I think it’s mostly just a matter of time and giving myself a chance to get a feel for what’s going on. And I’m weird and not just anyone will do for a friend, so I sort of have to wait until I can find the other’s of my tribe. But they are out there!
LOL I’d be your friend – in fact, you would have known we were fated to be friends because I would have filled in any silences with something completely out of left field. Or possibly have offered you TMI on some subject or another. (Why do I do that? Why?!)
I like to think that we all feel awkward inside – it makes my interactions with people much less stressful. Kind of like imagining everyone is walking around in their underwear, and I’m wearing something pretty in black and lace. Okay, see TMI.
For the record? Seven times.
I do have my own blog. I made exactly one entry. Fourteen months ago. I’ve been busy. Shut up.
Also YAY! For joining the choir! And that was a conversation with new people! So YAY! For that, too! Sheesh, Tulip, every time you open your mouth it doesn’t have to be the freaking Gettysburg Address. If they thought you were weird, SO WHAT? Probably they’re weird, too! They’re just USED to their own weirdness. Give ’em a chance to enjoy yours!
Maybe I should start working on the husband to move THERE (don’t know why he would object, we’ve lived everywhere else). Then we could take over the choir TOGETHER. Y’know, become the cool kids. WHAT? It could happen! ;)
You do alot better than I do. When I have to go somewhere with hubs that is a social occasion, I just hide behind him. When it’s just me, I take a book and read.
I hope you feel as though you fit in soon, and if not, why not visit another church?
Mir, they’re just jealous.
Oh, wait. I can’t use that one on you, can I? ;-)
You’re exactly the kind of person I’d gravitate towards–quirky with a great personality! They’re just uptight and boring.
So there!
Obviously, you are my long lost twin sister. I do that all the time. All. The. Time. What’s worse, I’ll blithely agree with whatever they said as an automatic reaction (They speak. I nod agreeably. Hit knee. Knee jerk.), and then think, “Oh wait, I should show a little modesty” and THEN I start with the “well, but, not ALL THAT, just kinda sorta SOME of that…” awkward rambling and pretty soon everybody is standing as far away from me as the walls will allow…
I totally identify with Fakey McFakerpants and foot-in-mouth disease. And also with Leandra.
i’m sure you thought it was much worse than it was.
i feel like a dork when i meet people. like at blogher, i’m pretty sure i made a fool of myself more than once. and people talked to me anyway!
we are usually much harder on ourselves than others are. remember, be gentle (and patient) with yourself. you’re still adjusting. *big hugs*
I have that same moment every afternoon when I go to pick the kids up. With the SAME WOMAN.
Why she still even TRIES to talk to me is a total mystery.
You’ll find your people soon. I hope. If not, there’s always Us Internets.
Can I just say, that I have finally found my people here! Phew. What a relief to know you are all out there.
See, now maybe it’s just me, but I don’t find your babbling and comments to the sopranos weird at all. Does that say something about me?
If not, then this does: As I was on my way back to work after lunch with a co-worker buddy, we were passed by a speedy car (she was driving, so apparently I had lots of room in my brain for this astoundingly profound remark to form) and, I said – I swear to you I was thinking it, but for the love of God I didn’t know I was going to blurt it out loud – “VRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM.” Yes, even with the drawn out oooooooooooooooooooooo’s – like a friggin’ sound effect!
What the ????????? Did I just ‘vroom’ out loud? OH-MY-GOD! Like I just developed a sudden case of adult-onset turrets.
Luckily, the gal I was with just cracked up – she’s a real bud I tell you. We use it today for those moments when, you know, words just can’t be found.
What a funny and thoroughly fantastic blog and you seem to have attracted an amazing group of readers.
Thanks for being here.
Greetings from down under.
Glad to read that everything is going normally for you.
We are having a great time and beginning to feel like we can actually find our way around Sydney even though they drive on on the left and speak english (sort of).
Apologies for using your blog for e-mail but I forgot your new address. Home on the 27th. Film at 11:00.
Yet another contest I don’t want to win – I beat Amy-go! 17 times 17 TIMES I have moved. But I only count… um… 11 of them as real moves because we actually left the entire state (or country). And as a grand champion mover I can share my fantastic method for making friends – stay home and don’t call anyone because that would just be bothering them and they probably wouldn’t want you to interrupt their Very Important Lives and why would they want to be friends with you when they’re so nice/friendly/funny/interesting?
Yeah. Well, I’m working on that.
I’ve only moved 14 times, so I’m behind Megan.
For me the first year in a new place has always been a bit lonely. But also a bit liberating – you don’t have any real commitments. No one is counting on you for much of anything.
The “belonging” will come. It just takes a little time. Hang in there. (With the belonging, though, comes commitments. Volunteer work. lunch dates. etc. etc. etc.)
Bossy thinks if that Pile Of Nervous Cuteness made them run away then they aren’t worth chasing.
I am totally Faker McFakerpants. I’ll now adopt that name for my own internal monologue at big parties where I only know two people and they’re busy talking to other people already.
And I would’ve cracked up at your sight-reading comments. But then, I’ve been an alto most of my life (recently reclassified as a mezzo, but I can’t think of myself as a soprano, even a Sop II).
“Where is she…? She usually blogs by 9:30 in the morning! I need my morning dose, fulfillment what ever you want to call it!”
Mir, sometimes the first place is not THE place, you know? Any place that can’t make you feel welcome from the get-go…well, I’d personally move on. Without a backward glance. And trust me, when it comes to religious institutions and feeling welcome, I know whereof I speak. I’m on the other side of the country and the other side of the religious spectrum, but I wound up at a conservative synagogue after looking for a reformed synagogue but feeling…I dunno…COLD at each of my choices. Then I walked into my current synagogue, and BAM. Welcome and warm and happy from day one. This after more than 40 years of NO synagogue-ing at all due to never really feeling RIGHT about it. So…You know. What I said at the top. There are other fish in the church sea. Or something like that.