Hello hello! Back again! My name is Winston and I’m an aspiring writer. I’ve been posting a blog for the last year or so, in an effort to practice editing and publishing. The next iteration is to work on marketing and putting myself out there. I draw lots of inspiration from my life as I go through this weird process of growth. The following is a bit about meeting people, putting yourself out there, and the [continual] process of me overcoming my awkward childhood. [and teenage years. And young adult years. And probably forever…..]

Introducing yourself is a pain. I’m great at it. I’ve been the outcast, the plus 1, the loner oddball so many times that honestly, going to a house party by myself is far from scary; it might as well be ordinary. If you’re looking to get better at that, please let me offer some feedback from my experiences. It’s first of all, it’s a skill. Like any skill it can be honed, and although there are plenty of ways to practice, real life experience will be the fastest teacher, even if it’s uncomfortable.

Second, none of the uncomfortable/awkward moments will last very long, or be very detrimental. Introducing yourself is a low risk, high ceiling reward. At worst, you’ll not have anything to talk about after introducing yourself and your conversation will falter to nothing for less than two minutes. Either the other person will pick it up, or they’ll turn away. Either/or, no lasting damage. It might feel like you’ll die, or it’ll be so awkward that they’ll never talk to you again, but in that worst case the problem solves itself! In the rest, no one will judge you unkindly for trying, and frankly even an awkward hello will open the door for them to talk to you later, or you to engage again at another time.

Final tip, I’ve adopted some of Dale Carnegie’s advice to making new friends and always being a welcomed guest: be like a friendly vanity mirror. Reflect the best parts of whomever you’re engaging. It turns out, most people are pretty insecure themselves and everyone loves sincere flattery.

Notice cool things about the other person. Compliment or acknowledge the effort that went into creating a cool thing. If not for the effort, for the thing itself. If not that, then for the simplicity of liking it yourself.

Take from someone who’s worked on making friends for ages. The hardest part is breaking the ice. For 89% of interactions, it’ll be pleasant, friendly, fun, non-awkward, and mutually beneficial. [Privilege alert: I’m a straight male in the very diverse New York City. I can dress with intention and groom myself. And I’ve been at this for a bit now.]

It turns out, kindness wins way more often than you’d think.

That being said, sometimes I wish other people would be so kind to me. Or, to be completely honest, I would be so kind to myself.

I’m heartbreakingly insecure. I know there isn’t much basis for it. But it doesn’t stop the thought spiral that is imposter syndrome. Of everyone’s-talking-behind-my-back-disease. Of they-see-through-the-phony-ism.

The worst part is, I have trouble even when people are kind. I second guess them. I wonder if they’re just fooling me. I wonder if life’s a game and I didn’t read the rule book and everyone’s got their cards and moves and plans while I’m still shaking the dice. [Shake them in your mind Annie!]

I don’t know. I don’t know anything, and I’m just fumbling in a dark room, hands outstretched into the impenetrable black curtain. I bumps knees and shins, or hearts and uglies and it always ends up hurting someone. Or I’m just afraid of hurting someone. Or myself. But I keep tentatively stumbling forward, relentlessly believing that something lies in or beyond the veil.

[I wonder if I’m wrong? But it’s so dark I’m a little unmoored.]

But every once in a while, something is just enough that I believe the sincerity. The biggest offering or the tiniest outstretched hand. That I can quell the beast for just bit and believe in myself again. Believe in the progress.

Those moments give me just enough light to illuminate others, to trust that they’re working on it too, and kindle the campfire that we all share. The tiny flickering flame we can warm our souls around.

So I’m still putting in the work. Doing the thing. Applying maximum effort. All with a smile.

I’ll always be grateful for a smile or a hug, to remind me that it’s a burden we shoulder together and when I falter, there are hands to pick me up, dust me off, and urge me along; as mine are for you.

Peace and Elbow Grease,

Winston