A Choice I Couldn't Make

Another Monday, another deeply personal topic for me to talk about. This week's question is whether I'd prefer to be attractive or intelligent. The problem is, I can't even treat this question the way it's framed seriously. I'm putting my own spin on the idea, big surprise, huh?

Intelligent vs. Attractive? That's a shallow and reductive question. Attractiveness is something deeper than pure physical appearance, and brains are more than just the results of an IQ test. But I still feel a certain resonance with this question, because I feel like I chose, or had chosen for me somewhere along the way, the fork that pushed me further into my own head.

I've said before that I have problems opening up to people sometimes. I don't feel comfortable in social situations, and I feel like I'm stumbling over myself and my words when I try to speak. Time and life seems to have given me a least a little luck in this regard, my girlfriend referred to me trying to stumble my way through a phone call on Labor day as "adorably awkward." Which feels like some kind of improvement.

So I do wish I understood better how to talk to people, to relate to them. But I've spent an entire life feeling like the ivory tower is the only home ground I'll ever have. I don't think I would ever want to trade that for anything. I've accepted that I'm not a salesperson or a politician; I'm the technician, the dreamer.