July 9, 2010
When I’m by myself I’m the most relaxed person in the world. I don’t clean obsessively (ask anybody!); I don’t fidget, or worry about how I look, or mind that I sing off-key.
Put one other person in the room, though, and I get totally tense. It’s amazing. Part of that is the fact that I feel like I need to adapt to other people; most of it is that I just don’t get other people.
For instance: Why is it funny to make mean remarks about total strangers—the way they dress, how much they weigh, how many teeth they have? Do people really like beer? If my neighbor walks over to say hello, do I offer her a drink even though she just came from the house next door?
(Now that my mother-in-law has introduced me to "The Big Bang Theory", I get a kick out of seeing all the ways that Sheldon and I are alike in our dealings with other people, and our puzzlement at certain social conventions. Unnerving, but funny!)
It’s the f-stop thing all over again, but without the short sentence to explain it.