The Cynic Express(ed) 1.18: The Asocial Cynic

     During the course of the pre-employment process, I was administered a personality test of some sort that analyzed my various capacities and culpabilities (and was oddly enough prefaced with the two seemingly contradictory statements to the effect that there are no wrong answers and answer honestly, because if you lie to schmooze the boss, you will be found out!). I must have answered correctly because I was given an obligatory one out of a possible seven on the people-person scale. I suspect they gave me the one because there was no zero possible or because the authors of the said examination were more other-person oriented and did not want to crush me with the scoreless.

     And as a whole, I agree with the assessment. People, as a classification of organism, encompasses quite a variety of activity, from the ability to conceptualize quantum theory, and all that stuff that Stephen Hawking does, to the mentality that inspires television news directors, like the ones at KSDK 5 in St. Louis, to put a highway commuting report with live video feed from a helicopter, on the six o'clock news, as if the commuters stuck in the traffic tangles are watching or as if any of us lucky enough to be home by six really care. And given this range of human potential, I tend to think more of the latter than the former, or to put it colloquially, that human are sheep, baaaa! baaaa!

     However, a disbelief in people does not make one (or, I hope, me) closed minded or anti-social. Although I do not believe in people, I have much faith in certain persons. My friends, for the most part, will not stab me mortally in the back; the love of my life will not let me down. My mother will never fail to offer to cook some Beef-a-roni for me if I appear hungry. My friends, my family, and Heather are not merely people; they are individuals, and exemplary ones at that--I do have discriminating tastes.

     So I am not a people person. I admit and revel in that fact. Of course, my status as a non-people-person does not limit me to sitting in a candlelit room knitting every night. Hey, I can be social and go out with my friends. Being a non-people-person does free me from some of the burdens associated with being a people-person or even being polite. I avoid shallow, meaningless conversation with shallow, meaningless people in coffeehouses. I miss out on the quid-pro-quo ego stroking that passes for intelligent conversation among some bar patrons. My words and my personal associations carry weight.

     Of course, I do not remain closed off to new people, either, but as long as they remain people, and I mean in-quotation marks "people," our relationship is limited. As soon as they prove their worth and become Gerry or Mike or Mike (hey, it's the most popular name for boys in any era, so there are always a disparate number of Mikes), then I will sweep down from my perch of reservation and twitter like a songbird, albeit a often profound (or so I would like to think) and sometimes humorous (or so I would like to think) songbird.

     So that's my cheap bit for this week. Unrepentant, I shall continue to be civil but distant from people unless provoked and friendlier to people whose names I know and satisfied with my decision.