excuses

Note: this post was actually written on 12/7/14. Decided to publish it 17 days later, on Christmas Eve, just because.

I noticed that I’ve become particularly good at coming up with excuses this quarter. In a bad way. I was always pretty decent at it; my peak was probably in middle school when I used to fashion an impressive repertoire of why-I-can’t-hang-out-with-you-this-weekend excuses (e.g. “Mom said I can’t because I’ll fall off the roller coasters and die,” “Our family friends are here from Texas so I have to go to the Grove with them.”).

But I’ve caught myself so many times the past few weeks making excuses for my state of being and I’m not sure I’m okay with it. Most of them come in the form of “Sorry I’m so ___(1)___, I got three hours of sleep last night,” “Sorry I’m not ____(2)____, I’m really, really stressed right now,” “Sorry I’m emitting ____(3)____ vibes, I’d rather talk to you when I’m significantly happier.” Then I began to wonder, when am I at my best? When am I not ____(1)____ and very ____(2)____, when do I exude ____(-3)_____ vibes? When am I unapologetic about my mental state?

The easy answer would involve caffeine and coffeehouses; I feel like I’m in my zone, feeling invincible and ready to conquer the world with a latte and a laptop in front of me and some coffeehouse-specific ambient noise in the background. It’s when I’m most productive, most articulate, most creative, most confident, and most excited about life (oh god maybe I’m addicted). And because I like myself when I’m happy and because I’d like the best version of myself to represent me, I’d like to think that coffeehouse me is the real me.

But deep down I know I can’t say that— that would make me as dishonest as a scientist fudging the results so that the best case represents the average case. The hard answer— hard as in I find it difficult to come to terms with it— would involve confidence and sincerity, because behind every excuse lies a certain hope that the person I’m talking to won’t characterize me as the person I’m being at the moment. Boring, high-strung, worried, awkward. Dull and uninteresting.

I’m not sure where I’m going with this (or why I felt the urge to write this out in the first place), so for now I think I’ll blame it on CS 107 and sophomore year fall quarter.