Axver (axver) wrote,
Axver
axver

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An uncomfortable entry to make.

Today was not a good day. That's not to say it was bad, but it definitely was not good. Some good did happen, though. I spent a good deal of time flicking through books in the library - I am outraged they have NOTHING by G. K. Chesterton (not even Orthodoxy!) - and I have resolved that I need more books. Urgently. Everything from the ancient Greek philosophers such as Plato through to modern legends like C. S. Lewis, and I am desperate for a copy of The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoyevsky. I also need the money to afford all these books and the time to read them in. I think I shall read some online to save money, but I far prefer the printed word - I sometimes find it very hard to read something on computer and take in the full depth of the literature, and there's nothing like possessing, holding, reading, and truly absorbing a book anyway. I'm also interested in reading literature from the time of Shakespeare, so go ahead and recommend some of his contemporaries to me.

The one thing that annoys me is that so many of these books I want were not originally written in English, and I would LOVE to read them in the language they were intended to be read in. I am determined to learn Latin and Greek, but that still doesn't cover everything. Russian would be another good language to learn, so I can read Dostoyevsky, Chekhov, and Solzhenitsyn, amongst others. Can't forget Arabic for the Koran. So there you go, my mission in life is to learn Latin, Greek, Russian, and Arabic sufficiently well enough to allow me to fully comprehend the classic examples of literature written in each.

OK, I'll cut the crap. I realised with stark clarity today that I am a sociophobe. That is, I have a fear of social interactions, situations, society, and people. I could barely sit through German and I broke down during English, which was when I had a really good talk to Sam and Aaron. Basically, the verdict is that I am leading well into sociophobia, but it's not too late yet, and in my opinion, I'm lapsing in and out of it. It's been building up over the last month or so, and it was at its worst today.

Sam has a theory, and I think he's pretty much hit the nail on the head. I've established a world for myself here in my room; it's basically everything I want, and I don't want to venture into the outside world because it's not as attractive as what I have here. Furthermore, I want to meet people, but I expect them to fit into a tiny little box where they share a whole range of my interests, and the expectation is entirely unreasonable. I'll never meet someone like me. I'll never meet someone with the same interests as me. I'll meet people with SOME of the same interests, but the whole combination? Tell me the last time you met a theological nerd of an intellectual who's fanatical about U2 and would like nothing better than to go chasing and photographing trains while discussing New Zealand rugby, Shakespeare, and classic poetry. You just don't meet people like that every day. So I have this world that I want to incorporate people in, but no-one is ever going to suit it besides me, and I have become comfortable in it enough so that the outside world scares me. Furthermore, I am afraid of social mistakes, of being thought of as a moron, and I am a walking, talking contradiction. I couldn't care less what people think of me, but if I stop to talk to them, I want them to walk away with a good impression, desiring to speak to me again. Contradiction is balance, I guess.

So in any case, it's not too late. I'm coming to accept that I should find people that just share some interests, not expect them to have all, but I still don't know how to do that. I have to stop the expectations and expand my box and my world, but I have trouble seeing why I should, seeing that when there's no intrusion, I am generally extremely comfortable and happy here. I really don't like the suggestion of joining a club. I'll join a small one that happens to involve at least a few people I already know, but I am not ready and simply too afraid to just step out and join, say, a philatelic (stamp-collecting) society or a group of railfans or Shakespeare nuts. I think I'd only feel even close to comfortable entering a local U2 fanclub, and the likelihood of finding one of those is astronomically slim. Plus, I am extremely happy staying at home. Why would I want to go out to some club when I can stay here? We build our homes to be comfortable, so I have simply chosen to live out the ideal, made my room a comfortable zone I can enjoy, and I happen to enjoy it.

But I want to get away from all this worry, this fear of interaction. I want to be somewhere I enjoy, with people I like, in company I can trust and love, doing things I love doing. Will I really achieve what I want? I'm enough of a fan of Ecclesiastes to know it's not going to happen. But I would still be much happier and content than I am now, and there'd be no fear.

You know, I just want to go walking in the mountains. Right now. I could just fly to New Zealand and walk through the areas I remember from when I was little, and those that I've only heard about. That would be refreshing and liberating; I would love to walk through some cool woodland, find a waterfall or a quiet mountain lake, relax in the middle of some calm and tranquil forest, and all that.

More than anything ... there's one thing I need more than anything, and I'm not going to say it on here. Not now, anyway. For now, I am going to issue an apology, a sincere 'sorry' to all those who I have expected to conform or tried to make conform to my world. This doesn't mean I'll start liking your brand of Christianity or taste in music or opinions on politics, and it doesn't even mean I'll never try to make you conform ever again; what it is, is a sincere apology and a willingness to turn things around, to expand my horizons and tolerance level, and to return to the point where I respected and loved people as individuals, not for how akin they are to me.

None of this was meant to happen. I don't know when it started happening, though it had to be later than June, so it's all recent. At least I hope I'm right when I say that. Maybe, if you can read me like a book, you can tell me approximately when. But this wasn't in the plan of events. This is a totally different script, and I don't like it. I feel terrible, not just because I'm becoming sociophobic, but because I hate it, I hate the stress involved, I hate the inhibition and paranoia, I hate that I am no longer gleefully happy like in February (even if I was an arsehole with it), and I hate that I'm even giving thought to something so pathetically insignificant. I have so many more important things to write about and devote my energy to, but I had to put this down on paper - or LJ, at least - because it's real and I want it to be gone.

Sigh.

I want to run, I want to hide,
I want to tear down the walls that hold me inside
I want to reach out and touch the flame
Where the streets have no name ...
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