A Word On Self-Aggrandizement

Yo yo yo! I'm baaaaack!!

Quick recap: The past almost year, I have been studying my acting by day, working full-time as a vampire computer-nerd by night, and trying to remain healthy and sane in between. Now that I have graduated, have a couple of gigs under my belt, and have changed my work schedule to something less life-ruining, I have more time to blog again!!

I apologize for my absence, and if you are reading this, I must say that you have passed my test of true friendship and I am forever indebted to you. I can say that confidently and yet with little personal accountability as I have no way of knowing exactly who you are. Awesome.

Ok, I think I need to ease back into this whole thing, so I have chosen a topic that has been on my mind today. The concept of self-aggrandizement. It's something that I've been extremely uncomfortable with my entire life. Everyone knows that self-deprecation is socially adorable and more than a little charming. I find it attractive in men and women alike. Self-promotion I have found equally loathsome.

What is so disgusting about giving oneself props? What's your gut reaction when a person tells you in all sincerity that they are really good at something? Mine usually is, "This guy [and it's usually a dude] is either Narcissus or hates himself because he is not. And I can't handle either scenario. I'm out." It's unappetizing, right? It's also dangerous, because then I think, "OR this dude either has a tiny penis he's overcompensating for or a third leg he's much too proud of!" And then I'm upset because you made me think of penises (peni? penipoda...?) and I don't want to think about your penis. I hardly ever want to think about genitalia.

LATELY, though, upon reflection, I have found self-aggrandizement (at least to myself, in the safety and privacy of my own noggin) has been instrumental in what I consider my successes thus far! How else does one grow and progress if she doesn't look back plainly at what she has done well, where she has succeeded, and what methods were employed to get her there?

When I was in college, I walked on to two different sports teams. Until very recently, I have have not recognized this as any sort of achievement. They were just things that I forgot I did once:

-When I was 17 I joined my university's rugby team and was a surprisingly quick study. (If you would like me to teach you the most effective way to tackle someone, by all means, contact me). I later quit after I watched teammates receive dislocated body parts, head injuries, memory lapses, etc. At the time, my brain was the one part of my body of which I was actually proud, and I didn't want to keep it in harm's way (self-deprecating! aren't I precious?). But, looking back, successfully joining a rugby team and excelling is kinda cool! And I unconsciously learned from this that I could probably succeed in a similar situation in the future.

-When I was 19, right after I transferred to Michigan State University for my upperclassmen years, I tried out for the women's crew team and made it. (I also quit this team less a month into the off-season for reasons that were right and important then...maybe I should dedicate a blog to 'why Kassie quits sports clubs'...) I remember after a long day of tryouts, our last test of the day was the invisible chair wall sit. It's where you sit against the wall, thighs parallel to the ground, for as long as you can stand it. Ten minutes was the maximum limit the coach was going to make us do. I was one of the few remaining in her invisible chair after seven minutes had past. If memory serves, the coach stopped us before eight minutes, but I remember feeling like I had some strength left in me had we continued. Let me stress that at this point in my young life, I was fairly unhappy and generally unimpressed with myself.

I'd like to juxtapose this last experience with one I had today. I have started exercising much more regularly again. Today I went to a class at my local gym where the final exercise of the night was...the wall sit! I lasted maybe 45 seconds. The toughest person in the class I think lasted 2:45. Was I embarrassed that my thigh strength is 1/10 of what it once was? Well, yeah a little. BUT, was I more impressed that my younger self owned that challenge? Hells yes!! I must have had legs that would make Thigh-Masters weep! I had Everest-climbing quads! After I shakily flopped to the floor today, my heart filled with love and empathy for my old critical self. She deserved a little recognition and I never gave it to her. As part of the MSU DI athletic package, she was offered private tutors, trainers, free clothes and a generous per diam during the season. But did that make her see her talent and success with humble pride and appropriate encouragement? Nope! I distinctly remember feeling confused and uncomfortable with it all.

My current inner condition is much improved from my self-flagellating days at MSU. I do not envy her or her steel-bending musculature. I'm happy, I like myself, and I think I've learned that self-deprecation and self-aggrandizement have their rightful place in all of us. My specific organs were my heart for all things failed and some black-hole in my memory banks for anything good I ever did in life ever. Now my belief is that recognizing our achievements and being proud of them should be something done regularly in our minds and hearts as it spurs us on to greater heights and joys. And self-deprecation should be left to the trivial dribble of dates and dinner parties, and reassigned to that black hole where my best memories used to go. Besides, if we don't know what we're good at, and don't love doing it, how are we going to serve anyone else with our mad skillz? Sounds wasteful now.

The next time someone tells me that they are the best at x, y, or z, I will try to congratulate them for recognizing their own strengths.

I probably still won't want to spend more than five minutes alone with them. Baby steps in my maturation, folks. Baby steps.

Holler at me, lovers!

Kassie

p.s. My former crew teammates at MSU turned into female Arnold Schwarzeneggers. I remember breathing a sigh of relief after I quit as I considered my own feminine-sized deltoids (If any of you would like me to show you how to properly operate an Erg, please contact me).

p.p.s. My former rugby teammates at BYU mostly ended up with C averages, at best, and back hair and acne.

p.p.s.s. That last one is not true.