Slaughterhouse 18

START TIME: 9:48 PM
END TIME: 11:07 PM
WORD COUNT: 684

“Last week, I asked you to define confidence, which you did while providing various examples of varying levels of confidence. Assess your own level of confidence while noting which of those examples you have done.” –Ken Faikus

READER’S NOTE:

(I attempted a Slaughterhouse doubleheader last week, and what I came up with as a response to Ken’s two-word request – “Define confidence” made me laugh as I was doing it and for a couple minutes after, which is generally how much time I assess these until I see the responses come back. I was having more fun just playing with the words and concept than writing anything impassioned, and rather than answering anything, what resulted was closer to meringue.

Since the document in question is at http://jameslyden.blogspot.com/2009/04/slaughterhouse-17.html, I’m not going to quote myself for something that’s just short of a week old. If you’re not familiar with the examples, check it out. Thanks!)

Confidence is like height; you can never have enough. And I certainly haven’t. I can obsess over whether or not something has gone the way that I planned it and why it hasn’t, regardless of whether or not it’s a vacation, a triathlon, or even one of these Friday night exercises in pulling thoughts out of my brain. If I had more confidence it wouldn’t matter. The whole point of Slaughterhouse is to find a voice and an audience; it’s all about the confidence I don’t have smashed into the oversized ego that I’ve already got.

My favorite adjective is “precise.” I like structure, because that gives me confidence; a feeling that there are aspects of even the most basic social interaction that I can control. Give me a time and that’s exactly when I’ll be there. Give me “between 7:15 and 7:30” and I’m there at 7:23. I’m not above driving around the block if I’m three minutes early, or picking up more Listerine strips at the nearest 7-Eleven if I’m 15 minutes early. You can bet I’ve been to the restaurant already, I know what’s on the menu, and that I’ve already driven the route, even if I printed the directions. It sounds idiotic, but I’d rather you not see me get flustered or look capable of human error.

This can get in the way of actual entertainment; I’m aware that I get tense when it looks as if life is veering towards new levels of spontaneity. I like trying new things but completely lack any semblance of confidence when multiple variables are introduced. There’s too many ways for me to look like a moron and my mind’s too occupied not to care.

I’ve been guilty of all five definitions at one time or another; I think all of us, as members of humanity, have done so. The one that I think I’m most frequently guilty of is underconfidence – I spend a lot of time dealing with self-doubt. (This led to me doing something overconfident – the example of “making reservations for Valentine’s Day without a girlfriend” was the real deal; there were maybe four people in the world who I would have welcomed to that venue on that night, and I wasn’t alone because I had to be.)

All of the Trivial Pursuit scenarios come from actual game play with my family, and I’ve done all of them except been underconfident. In fact, that’s one of those situations where I’m completely insufferable and hypercompetitive. If you’ve ever asked yourself the question, “Where does he come up with this stuff?” set up a trivia deathmatch and watch me drift into the same location in my brain that I disappear at about the two-hour mark of a race, where the outside world no longer has any meaning. I’ll have no regard for feelings, teammates, or anything. I’ll handle it poorly. I promise. I’ll win, too, but that’s beside the point.

But that’s based in confidence. Knowing irrelevant things is more of a talent for me than anything else I do. You have a better chance of outrunning me on a bicycle than beating me at Trivial Pursuit. I know the odds of both. (And the only thing that I know about horse racing is that I don’t make any money betting on it, so I refrain from doing so.)

But that’s an extremely narrow segment of life. I’d rather know that I can tell a funny story and the people around me will think so than know what the Saudi Arabian flag looks like. I’d rather know that I could get away with saying the words I was more comfortable writing to someone once upon a time than knowing that I’m going to pass that chump who took the wrong line at the curve about 30 yards ahead of me. I would have an easier time if I didn’t overthink the chances I didn’t take. I’ve spent a lifetime trying to find out if I learn anything, or just revisit it over and over. I’ll let you know if I get the answer right.