[insert name here]
... and the art of introduction.
Hello. It’s me. Natalia. It’s been a while. A very long while. So long, in fact, I don’t even remember the last time I wrote, which is crazy because I’m supposed to be a writer. I’m supposed to be a lot of things. And to be honest, I’m having a really difficult time letting go of my “supposed to be’s.”
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So, last Wednesday, I did one of the scariest things I could ever do. I went to an industry mixer…by myself. When I arrived, there were three people in the bar where this event was supposed to take place. And the one guy sitting at the bar had a long beard and was wearing a biker jacket. He proceeded to stare at me as I nervously looked around, checked then double-checked the Eventbrite invitation, and texted the one person I knew who would possibly show up at this event. No response from the aforementioned person and the stare from the creepy man at the bar became more intense. Three and half minutes into my venture of being a strong independent woman was not living up to the hype. Panicked, I looked around and saw a staircase. Praying that it led to friendlier pastures (or at least a direct route to my car), I climbed the stairs. This led to the beer garden aspect described on the bar’s website.
The outdoor beer garden was much more hospitable. For one thing, there were significantly more than three people. But still, I wasn’t sure whether or not I was in the right place. I was checking my phone every 30 seconds for a text from the one person I knew, preferably saying “I’m here and I have a beer waiting for you.” No such luck. I finally was able to catch the attention of a waitress and she pointed me towards the back area. I walked to the back and internally cheered as I saw people wearing name tags and making small talk. By this time, I had received a text from the one person I knew saying he was running late but would be there soon. He said I should mingle, and talk to anyone. I spotted the table with blank tags and made a beeline for it. As I filled out my name tag, my next moment of dread set in. I now had to go up to people and… talk.
I am fully capable of going to the movies on my own. I can go to a coffee shop or restaurant on my own. Gym, park, hike, dollar store - no problem. But put me in a function where I’m supposed to talk to people I don’t know, absolutely not. This was supposed to be an event for people who worked in the entertainment industry, but no actors. It was only a few days prior to the mixer that I even learned about it from another writer I met on Discord. Already so out of my comfort zone. But to be honest, I was desperate. I needed to meet new people. I was going on three months of being gainfully unemployed. The choice between food, meds, and gas was becoming (still is tbh) an unavoidable reality.
They say the definition of insanity is doing something the same way over and over and expecting a different result. Well, call me crazy and up my dosage because that’s exactly what I do. I was trying to go about finding work in the normal way and hoping that I would find a job. But, there was a reason for my insanity. I didn’t know any other way. The times I tried to deviate from my normal script, it would end in devastating fashion. My normal felt safe and reliable. So for me to step outside of that safe and reliable same - attending an event where I knew virtually no one - felt like insanity, not the opposite.
On my journey to becoming a writer, I feel like my insanity is only increasing. Because I’ve been forced to try so many new things in this world of entertainment, the minute I can retreat back into the safe, I take it. I came to the conclusion that having to send out resume after resume, interview after interview, constantly answering ‘tell me about yourself’ and getting the same result - no job - is also a form of insanity. Yet, I’m expected to do this over and over until it leads to a different result - getting a job. What makes this form of insanity any less insane than mine? Is it not the same? And if so, why can’t I keep my version?
Ok, yes. This does make me sound like I have no social skills, which is partially true. I fill awkward moments with giggles and sarcastic comments. I always say I’m bad at making friends because I’m great at first impressions but terrible at second ones. The subtle art of introduction is difficult. It’s a continuous state of being because even with people who know you, it’s often required that they continue to learn new things about you. It’s difficult to constantly put yourself out there and brace for rejection. And what they don’t tell you is that when you finally get acceptance, you fear it being taken away. You conclude that while acceptance is fickle, rejection is inevitable. I’ve come to this conclusion. For some, this realization may be freeing, believing that since rejection is inevitable doing whatever you want is the best course of action. However, for me, it gives me an excuse to shelter in place. I ask why bother put myself out there if rejection is inevitable.
I have moments when I reject my insanity and do what I want instead of sheltering in place. But for the past three months and, to be honest, for many (many) months before that, I’ve been sheltering in place. I was in a space - physically and mentally - that required I do this. Rejection wasn’t just inevitable, it was demanded that I be happy about it. And I think that’s part of the reason I haven’t been writing my substack. My substack was supposed to be a place where I deviated from my usual insanity and did exactly what I wanted to do. But with everything going on, it no longer felt like the safe place it had become. I couldn’t handle it becoming another place where rejection was inevitable and I would be forced to be happy about it.
As July begins in a few short days, I’ll also be starting a new job. It’s an event where I’ll be forced to reject my comfortable insanity. So, I figured it was time I rejected my insanity when it came to my substack as well. Warning: there may be times when I have to crawl back into my shelter but know that I’ll come back out. I’ll remember that I’m just an average black girl just working through some lies that the world told me.