Mr. Cloudy's Shelter
A Place to Listen and be Heard

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neurotic interludes

I think most people would call me a measured person. I think about what I say, and my feelings even seem to get screened subconsciously in most cases, especially in public. While I'm taking the medication I'm on, I'm less measured. I walk up an initiate conversations with co-workers, make more wise-cracks, and am just less guarded. But I still end up pondering whether this me is well-received or not, or whether I'd ever know or not. And I look for signs that people either are glad I stopped to chat or wish I hadn't bothered them.

I'm a little less self-conscious here in the blog. Maybe because I feel like some of you know me pretty well and I at least have the evidence when somebody stops by here and talks to me. But at work, it doesn't seem like there are many occasions anyone stops by to chat with me, and so I wonder. And I think about not stopping by their desks to chat to see if I learn something.

And deep down I still want to hide most of the time. We had a visitor at church the other day who was like a fish out of water - very outgoing and vocal. I enjoyed the change of pace he brought. And I wondered whether he knew or cared whether he was so different from the ethos of the place. I envied his seeming ease. But at the same time, if he couldn't tell that he was sticking out like a sore thumb, I don't know if I'd want to be oblivious.

Maybe some people are at ease and not oblivious either. But then, there are a lot of things in this world that perhaps should make us ill at ease. And maybe there's room for some of us who just never really feel comfortable.

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