Vision might claim to be the god of inspiration, but based on his tone I’m not 100% he isn’t actually the god of smug.
I have been thinking a lot about a conversation I had with my friend Lewis a month or two ago. We hadn’t seen each other in a while and met at a Thai restaurant (delicious). As we were talking, we got on subjects that I am passionate about. When that happens, I tend to get…well, I think most would use the term “soapbox” when describing it. I take on a confident tone. That doesn’t always mean I think I know the answers to something — I almost always second-guess and doubt my own thoughts at least a little — but I do get emotionally bold and lay out things I’ve thought a lot about in an authoritative manner.
We’d been at the restaurant since it opened at 11 and it was now creeping up to 1. I was getting paranoid about needing to leave. They probably want to seat new customers here. We’re probably in the way. The staff is no doubt FILLED WITH HATRED AND LOATHING FOR US, I thought to myself. I asked Lewis if we could meet at a park nearby and keep chatting while taking a walk. We paid and headed out. My anxiety followed me into my car, but now instead of worrying about the restaurant staff, I was going over everything I’d been saying to Lewis for the past two hours. I must sound like such a windbag, I fretted. Like a senile old lady spouting nonsense. Or a delusional, arrogant, stuck-up jerk who thinks she knows everything. Yes. Either I sound like a crazy person who doesn’t know anything, or I sound like a crazy person who THINKS she knows everything. OH GOD. HOW CAN LEWIS STAND BEING AROUND ME. HOWWWWW????
There was a part of my brain that suspected this train of thinking. A more objective part that has seen these thoughts before. I also knew Lewis would get this line of thought. So when we met again at the park, I made a point to lay out what had been going through my mind. In that sort of “Haha hey, you know what is silly, this is silly, these thoughts. Yes. Are they? Please verify they are because my brain is only half sure.”
Lewis burst into laughter. “Robin…you have absolutely no chill.”
I thought to argue, because I know I can be silly, but thinking on it…even when I’m silly, I do it very seriously. I prefer to be 100% ludicrous if I’m going to be ridiculous about something. It’s part of why Cory and I get along so well. We will “back each other up” when one does something odd by doubling down on the other person’s oddness. We regularly have impromptu skits about the strangest things, or bark at each other, or speak at length in nothing but a volley of back-and-forth puns about vegetables…or butts. (There are a lot of great butt puns to be made.) If one of us randomly bursts into their own parody of a current musical hit, purposefully singing as badly as possible, it is a sure bet that the other will add in further lyrics, dance moves, or percussive sound effects.
We take our silly very seriously in this household.
It can be a lot of fun…but it’s not really the same as relaxing. In general, relaxing is not something I’m very good at. If relaxing is a skill, it is not one I have developed. I am a novice relaxer. My mind will almost always find something to fret about. Swimming has been an interesting exercise in learning to have some chill. I might talk a little bit about that next update, since this one is already a little long.
Do you have any chill? Or do you, too, take your silly very seriously? In what ways?