For the next week, I’m going to write all about how much I suck. No, no. Not quite like that. Self-Dep Week is all about acknowledging the flaws that make me (and all of us) the people we are: three dimensional, fucked up, and full of shortcomings. The way I see it, the better you know your flaws (and the more open you are about them) the better those around you are able to navigate those foibles. Doesn’t necessarily make the flaws go away, but at least acknowledging them puts it all on the table: I’m a fuck up. So are you. Let’s go get a beer.

Today’s Suckage: Socially Fickle
I am a fickle people person. I tend to run hot and cold, and pity the soul who meets me when I’m running hot, and assumes that’s my standard. I can be a loving, accepting, warm person — I have the ability to make total strangers feel socially comfortable and at ease. I can sooth fears and crack jokes and make a room smile. This works great for me during job interviews and curb-side chats.

Then, swayed by my only child tendencies, a shift in the wind, a bad clam, five minutes too little sleep, or any number of other trivialities, things shift. I can’t be bothered. I get cold and introverted and dismissive and bothered by everything. If I’m so inclined, I can explain all this to you; more often than not, however, I’ll just ignore your knock on the door, quietly grump and keep to myself.

I can’t explain what makes my affections and attentions shift this way — I know what PMS is, and I know what it feels like, and that doesn’t explain my fickleness. That doesn’t explain why in 8th grade I decided suddenly that I was done with my best friend for six months. It doesn’t explain why one month I can go out and meet two dozen wonderful people, and the next month I can’t be bothered to return their calls. I spent over a year hanging out and dancing with hundreds of people several nights a week; then I spent several months deciding that I was too cool for anyone but myself, gloating as I reveled in Saturday nights with the only person in the world who matters: me, naturally. That’s the silver lining of my fickleness: I am fiercely independent.

A coworker asked me today how I could be such an extrovert while at the same time declining to go to lunch every day, opting instead to sit in a corner table of the office caf, reading a book and hunkering over my meal. My only explanation is that I’m selfish and fickle with my social energy. When I’m on, I’m on. When I’m off? The lights go dark, the glitter settles, and there might as well be a big ol’ CLOSED sign hanging off my ass, cuz the chairs are up on the table, and I’m sitting in my hairnet, smoking a cigarette and counting my tips.

This is fickleness. I am the cafe that serves really good pie, but keeps totally unpredictable hours and inconsistent service.

Tomorrow’s Suckage: Horrid Bossyface