In praise of terrible first impressions.

I never made good first impressions. I was never interested in impressing someone I meet or talk to in the first meeting itself. It feels wrong and against my will, as if I had to make a good first impression — otherwise I was doomed. I’m not comfortable with the level of judging that is involved and the fact that this is all normal. So, I prefer to bomb, I let them judge me and appear underwhelming in my performance. It’s a theatre, it’s a worldly play. I prefer to not play along.

I let myself sweat through the shirt and let my voice choke and tremble and my face go as if it was thrown into a washing machine. That is, until the examination comes to an end, when I realise that I do not care about this at all — and yet that’s what I go through. Not always, not with everyone. It’s anyway strange and funny as hell.

I’m a try again > fail again > fail better kind of Beckett genius.

Date

30 November 2021

Up next

Walking, walking, walking. When you have not left your bed for days like a mental patient because you’re so busy working, where you’ve become ok with the idea of using a bed

Previously

The left river. Last night, I slept on my left arm and now it is paining, as if an overflowed river in bones is trying to slam through the flesh, such unbelievable