No one's really the life of the party

Thank you so much to my beautiful 101 subscribers

Hello to my now 100+ readers on Substack. I crossed a big threshold last week in subscriber goals, and despite my complete lack of direction on this thing, I can’t tell you the gratitude I feel knowing that people are interested in following along with the thoughts in my head.
If you know me, you know I worry about my ability to write well. I’ve got friends, so many people who love me, but my biggest insecurity is that people like me because I’m bubbly, I’m fun, I’m cute and I know lots of interesting people. I dread that people might value me not because of my beliefs and my observations, but because I’m fun to be around. My partner picks on me “Oh I’m Alex, it’s so hard having everyone like me.”

Spare a thought for the incessantly happy people, will you? *I know baudacious is not a word.

I’m sure to introverts and cynics this sounds insane and ungrateful; many people spend their lives trying to orchestrate good social networks, but for me being extroverted and perky is as naturally a part of me as the mole above my lip.

I sometimes irrationally bristle when people compliment me on my cheerful disposition, like I have any control over it, similar to my beauty mark. An ex friend’s smug voice lingers in my head; she boasted openly to the fact I was a mechanism for her to effortlessly meet new people.
“I’ve got Alex, my pet extrovert.”
I recall with irritation the way a therapist brightened when she found out I worked in customer service, “Oh you’d be great at that.”
Alternatively, an ex thought I should become a teacher, due to my fabulous people skills and my extreme patience with dickheads. Teaching is a noble and important career, but it’s not what I want to do, if I can help it.
Extroversion and enthusiasm can certainly play a role in storytelling, particularly journalism. Good luck getting people to talk to you if you’re unapproachable. I have and will continue wielding this skill strategically, but inside me is a very different Alex to the Alex at the party. I suspect this is the case with most people.
Two great environmental writers of our time are Bill McKibben and Wendell Berry. I’ve been lucky enough to hear them both speak and I even interviewed Bill McKibben a few years ago. What I specifically remember about both these men was their quiet gentle nature. They were both approachable, sure, but I wouldn’t describe them as socialites. They’d have to spend quite a bit of time in solitude, free of people and distractions, to write their masterpieces.
In our quieter, more reflective self lies the power to think deeply, critically, beyond the status quo. All of us have the capacity to see beyond pop psych on social media, to see through the myopic clickbait clichés this week. I want to tap in on this. I want everyone to.
Was it Dumbledore or someone else who once said something along the lines of “It’s not our talents that determine our future as much as our choices.” I was thinking of famous people whose choices overrode their talents, IE Michael Jordan’s brief baseball career, or Jacinda Arden’s decision to resign as prime minister of New Zealand. They were both good at doing one thing, but they wanted to do something else. People are complicated.

Based on my abilities alone, I should probably pursue tourism full time, exploring ways my brave, vivacious personality could bring me rewarding job opportunities. I’d probably be great in sales as well, but that’s just not me. People have told me I’d make a great social escort of sorts. If AI fully takes over this might be my fallback plan anyway, lol.
The controversy in my passion for writing is that I have the audacity to believe my thoughts should matter to others. No one would judge me for squirreling away little poems in my notebook. I do that too, but that’s not all I want, dear readers, oh no, I could only dream of being so humble.

Here are a few recent examples of powerful truths that made me think deeply:
- This piece in Bustle by Rebecca Fishbein on the bullshit language of “therapy speak” and how it’s giving people permission to be complete assholes.
- This Substack piece by Jessica Defino on women and cosmetic surgery: “Aging gracefully” is a beauty culture psyop. It’s a euphemism for anti-aging.”
- This brilliant piece in the Atlantic by by Dacher Keltner on the Quiet Profundity of Everyday Awe
- This piece in the Los Angeles Review of Books by Dan Sinykin on how everyone wants to be recognized as a great writer, but you’re SOL unless you went to an elite university and then also earned an MFA from Iowa.
Great writing, like the above, are stories that don’t necessarily fit the mainstream mold. The stories communicate honestly, portraying original ideas and fascinating facts. Sometimes, it makes people mad.
Which brings me back to you my kind, patient readers, who have put your faith and time into my random, rambling, weekly search for internal and external truth. I so value having you here with me here. What I write here won’t make money or win awards, but because you read, it holds me accountable. It makes me improve.
I will find ways to make the rent. I’ve got skills to pay the bills. This newsletter is not that. Rather, it’s a way for me to go deep, be honest and perhaps most importantly, be consistent. You putting faith in my nonsense gives me a sense of purpose.
Thank you so much.