An annoying part is that I, too, in the right situation, can be extremely talkative, charmingly brainless, giggly and teengirlesque. It doesn't even take that much, it just requires that I feel somewhat comfortable and not like I'm literally being closed out of a circle of people by the more attention-craving (whether conscious of it or not) members of the circle.
It just leaves you feeling silly, leaving an acquaintance's house having spoken few words and not even having introduced yourself to the person's mother, who is driving you home. The soccer mom van is filled with the sound of another, less soporific peer, who is also getting a ride home. Not even a stripey shirt or a deliciously cheap CD purchased earlier in the day can distract from the notion that you basically weren't there, even if you DID know the difference between the Hives and the Vines (unlike your talkative friend) and you DID recognize all of the songs the acquaintance was playing on his guitar (unlike said friend). Granted, such trivial (ha) triumphs can belong to anyone, but somehow you rationalize it in your head and make yourself out to be the forgotten one.
It's humbling to realize that there are few eloquent ways to complain about your body, what with body image and all that jazz. It seems silly to complain about having a thick middle and a large ass (not largesse) when it seems, according to certain pop folklore, that such ass-ets are desirable. Perhaps they are desirable on those who have more memorable, shining personalities than those who basically blend in with the background, even if they are wearing a blue/white striped shirt.
I just wish I wouldn't feel so off-put by people (or a person), especially in social situations when I would particularly like to shine toward an acquaintance who barely knows me. I can be just as flighty and stupid as the next girl, it's reeeally not hard. My brother has commented on my Anna-Nicole-Smith-like way of saying "Huuhh?" or "Whuuut?" I, in complete seriousness, almost bought the best of Vanilla Ice on CD today, but found that the Violent Femmes were half Ice's price. Then I persisted, in the tape shelf; I reached in front of an elderly fellow and sought out the best of Vanilla Ice on cassette tape, but for some strange reason, "Ninja Rap" was not on the tape album, whereas it was definitely on the CD. Then, as I paid for my Violent Femmes, the cashier guy got a kick out of showing me how to give exact change. See? Ditzy! Me!
Maybe that wasn't the clearest example. But still. I wish I could be myself sometimes and that my chronically outgoing friends would just let their tongues flap in the privacy of their own bedrooms.
I could liken this situation to the tint of my skin. Excluding the marching band weeks of the year, I am either sickly pale or completely flushed red (as per impromptu photographs, etc.). But during marching band, I grow distinct sock, sleeve, and watch tan lines, even if I am a slave to sunscreen and RE. APPLY. I don't like tanning, but I do, and then when I could use a bit of sun to make me less corpse-like, I burn. Point of the story is that sometimes things are very frustrating.
I think I'm beginning to talk about myself to excess. That usually isn't a stopping factor in online diaries, but usually they have something to saayyyy. Bah.
I wish that today's film posters could reach the caliber of the posters of the '70s.
I must say that this entry is remarkably readable, at least by my Diaryland standards. I will make sure to make up for it at the other end of the spectrum very sooon.