And You Wonder Why No One's Ever, Ever Talking To You. No One Ever, Ever Needed To.

For a while I wanted to be a psychiatrist. I was that kid in grade school that made it through the gauntlet of bullies on the playground by being the amateur therapist. I learned at an early age how to get the other kids to talk to me, and I figured out quickly that a little bit of analysis will either a) confuse a bully long enough to get me through recess unharmed; or b) defuse their violent tendencies toward me entirely. I was good, too. And I enjoyed it. It was like solving a riddle, or putting a puzzle together. Yeah, that's right. I played with other kids' emotional trauma because I liked the challenge, not out of some sense of duty to the rest of humanity. Pretty shady, huh?

Anyway, it all went pear-shaped for me in junior high. I was at lunch with my Dad's cousin Bob and his son Matthew. Bob asked me what I wanted to do with my life. First of all, that's a fucked-up question to ask a thirteen-year-old, in my opinion. I'm still not sure what I want to do, but that's another post entirely. I told him that I was thinking about psychiatry.

Matthew, who is a few years younger than me, asked "what's that?"

Bob told him "well, when people are sad, they would go to see Seth, and talk to him about why they're sad, and he would help them to feel better."

My dream died right then and there.

It sounded so touchy-feeley and Alan Alda-esque that I got the same creepy feeling that I get when strangers talk to me about their faith. I wanted no part of it. I didn't want to help people feel better, damn it. I wanted to solve puzzles. I certainly did not want to listen to people telling me their stupid problems and feelings for the rest of my life. But it was too late. I had spent so much time and energy becoming that guy that listens to everyone that I didn't know how to go back.

I'm a listener now, which makes it difficult for me to talk to people. I think it also makes it hard for people to listen to me. There's something jarring about me opening up to people in the real-world, one-on-one, look-you-in-the-eyes sense. If you've been on the receiving end of me "sharing" then you know that it's more than a little bit awkward. And I apologize for that. But as weird and uncomfortable as they are, I still treasure those moments.

It's also why standup comedy appeals to me so much, and why I blog so damn much. People listen, or read, or whatever. And they respond, or they don't, and it's fine. But I wish I was better at the real-world interactions. I'm working on it.

Maybe I should see a psychiatrist.