Deep Thoughts, or something

Yesterday, the DH and I went to see Pirates of the Caribbean, and then had a pre-birthday dinner at Vine Yard, a really good reastaurant about ten minutes away from here. We chatted with the waitress, the cook came by and said hi to us, and we were generally having a good time (as well as a superb meal, but that's par for the course at Vine Yard). And I started thinking.

I'm almost never afraid of people anymore. When I go to have lunch somewhere, or to shop, or to a cafe, or to the hairdressers, or to any other situation where I can expect to meet new people, I am not afraid.

If you're a not too unlucky person, you will have no idea what I mean by this. If you're anything like me, you will know only too well.

I remember a time when I was perhaps twelve or thirteen years old, walking to a small shop about ten minutes walk from where I lived. It was on an autumn afternoon, the leaves were gold and red and orange, and the sky beginning to assume the same color. I was alone.
Then I met a group of teenagers, possibly a year or two older than me. I didn't know them, so I tensed up a bit without really noticing. After we had passed eachother, a gust of wind blew some words towards me.
"Did you notice how frightened she looked?"

And then I realised. It dawned upon me that most people didn't see other people as dangerous, as something to be avoided when possible, and something to be wary of when you couldn't avoid them. I did, and people found it remarkable. People I didn't even know.

I think that was when I tried to get help from a psychiatrist to help me deal with the baggage I was carrying around from being harassed at school for five years. I found out rather quickly that they couldn't help me, so I had to deal with it by myself. And I did. I learned how to use body language to appear calm and in control. I learned to listen enough to other people to figure out how to interact with my peers without appearing too strange. I learned not to show my fear, and gradually I found that there really wasn't that much to fear. People weren't always out to hurt me. Well, some of them were, and are, but they're really the minority.

I don't remember when the last bit of the old fear went away. But sometimes I remember what it felt like, and I rejoice in being who I am today. I'm a person who's able to talk to strangers, to the people working the checkout counter at the local Coop store, the people at the restaurants where I eat more or less frequently, to the people at the hairdresser's where I get my hair cut. And they appear to like the person that I am, enough so that they remember me and seem pleased at my coming back. I even have friends, people I can trust with my life and my most private thoughts. I post in newsgroups where people seem to appreciate at least some of what I'm saying, and seem to miss me when I don't post for a while.

I need to remember the bad stuff. If I don't, then I risk not realising just how amazingly good the good stuff actually is.

Six degrees of LJ

Do you remember the old SixDegrees website? The one where you'd enter your name, and the names of people you know, and they'd add the people they know, and so on.

Today I started following the "friends" links of the people who commented on my first LJ post. It took way less than six jumps to find people I hadn't heard from in years. In some cases, people I've cared deeply for, and been sorry when our lives changed in ways that made us drift apart. And now I can see at least the part of their lives that they're willing to share with the world.

I used to wonder in what ways LJ could possibly be better than Usenet. Now I've found the first one.