I was filling in a questionnaire of sorts a few weeks ago and one of the questions had me stumped - "If your friends described you in one word, what would it be?". I had no idea. So I asked them, well, those I knew would get back to me. I was pleasantly surprised by the responses I received, not that I anticipated anything horrendous but I didn't expect my ego to be massaged in the way it was. (Thank you, people!) My favourites were "honest" and "perceptive" (although smiley and glittering had me feeling the most fuzzy inside) as they are traits I am proud that people recognise in me. I was floating on my cloud of adoration when my phone beeped, alerting me to another text from a friend who had taken the time to indulge me. "Assertive" was his response. My ego was suddenly undergoing acupuncture. Ouch!
I don't think of assertiveness as a positive characteristic. It is too closely associated with aggression for my liking and I've never thought myself dogmatic. Or perhaps I've never wanted to acknowledge it. Luckily (for him) I met up with this ego-deflating friend that evening and expressed, perhaps with too much conviction, that I didn't like the word he'd chosen. Apparently it wasn't meant negatively at all. It was his definition of someone who knows what they want and does what they can to get it. In a considerate rather than ruthless way, I hope. Then I remembered how one of my 'A'-Level History teachers has signed my school leaver's book - "Assertiveness personified. How can you fail?" - and how thrilled I was he'd written such a thing. Eleven years ago I embraced my assertive nature, now I shudder in horror that a friend used it as the defining word for my personality.
This lead to a conversation that has had me thinking for the past few days. When I was younger, I was a more confident and, I hate to say it, conceited person. I think most of us probably were. Youth is a wonderful thing as we all think we know everything we'll ever need to know, thus possessing a confidence that is unrivalled in later life. A cockiness that is forgiven by those who are more mature in years as it's passed off as naivety and the notion that we'll "soon grow up". And grow up we do. That cockiness then turns in to one of two things.
The first of cockiness' evolutions is insecurity. This isn't to say those that grow into this trait are weak and feeble, more humble. A most attractive quality. I find it so endearing when someone doesn't quite realise the power they possess - to me it makes them more interesting. I'm not suggesting that people who fall in to this category don't have self-belief or a sense of self-worth; You can believe in everything you do and know you'll succeed in whatever you do but be aware you've got to work hard and put in lots of time and effort to make it happen. Hence appreciating the end result more and being grateful things have worked out exactly as you wanted them to.
I've never been the type of person who has had things fall in her lap (metaphorically speaking). I really wish I was, things would have been so much easier up until now. I've worked since I was sixteen (far longer than I care to remember!) and still don't have anything to show for it - by this I mean materialistic possessions that are of any real value - but I fully appreciate everything I have chosen to spend my hard earned cash on. Holidays, handbags, shoes and my fabulous brooch. I don't measure success by possessions though. To me, being someone of standing is not related to what car a person drives or how may bedrooms their dwelling has. I think being good to others and giving something back to the Universe is far more important - perhaps that has been brought about by being brought up a Hindu and karma playing an important (guilt-laden) part of my life.
The second apparent evolution of cockiness in youth baffles me - an inflated ego and self-confidence. I think it crucial that people know they hold value, as humans, but some people's idea of self-esteem is way off any scale that my brain can compute! They think themselves better than others but don't base this opinion of themselves on any sort of fact or anything that matters, just what they reckon.
I deal with one of these arrogant sods almost everyday. Someone who thinks, for no real reason, she is above everyone else she encounters. It drives me crazy! This person should well be over it by now as she's in her mid-twenties, and whilst she's good at her job she's managed to rub a good few people up the wrong way, pissing off the masses with her attitude. The really sad thing is, as she's totally oblivious to it all I doubt she'll ever discover humility and change.
I went to a gig on Monday night and came across both types, well, all three types of people. It was in a function room above a pub in Norf London and as my friend and I walked in to the room we were greeted by a very chatty, young(er than us) guy. Gone were my fears that I'd be out of place in an ocean (well, pond, the room was small.) full of people that were "too cool for skool". Those apprehensions soon returned when we got further in to the room. The audience seemed to be made up of a few people like my friend and me but mostly young, confident and older (than them), arrogant types. I was shot daggers as I walked up to the bar in my long floaty skirt and vest top by girls wearing Grecian dresses over skinny jeans. Oops, had I made an Islington fashion faux pas by not checking out what Alexa Chung was wearing that day and copying it to the nail varnish, not embracing the Trustafarian lifestyle? Anyway, so as we settled down in our seats, rum and ginger beers in hand, I noticed a group that was different to the others around us. They were chatting to each other, laughing and looking really relaxed in each others' company, one of them being the friendly guy who'd greeted us at the door. A few minutes later, four of this group, including our greeter, took to the stage - The first support act. As well as some brilliant music, I enjoyed the humility the act showed. It was a pleasant contrast to the two guys stood just by us who thought they were Brand and Lamb; skinny jean and white dap wearing mockney "lads". The female singer seemed almost uncomfortable on stage when she wasn't singing. It was beautiful.
Half an hour later, we were being entertained by the second support artist - a guy who had enjoyed relative success in a group before going solo. He showed a ridiculous amount of humility too, circulating amongst the audience after he'd played his set. We'll gloss over the fact that my friend offended him, just as he sat down with us to listen to me tell him how one of his songs had moved me to tears. Point being that even someone who had experienced a UK number one single in the charts managed to be less arrogant than some dude in a porkpie hat who I'd never heard of or seen before (but that doesn't mean he isn't successful, just a prick with it).
So, two hours after we'd arrived we were being entertained by the act we'd come to see. Entertained is too soft a word, mesmerised more fitting. The banter between the singer and the drummer was as captivating as the music, as was the bassist's natural, utter coolness. And despite having just returned from playing on Radio 1's Big Weekend Introducing Stage there was a sense of modesty that blew my mind. I think that's part of the appeal of this artist for me; he's going to be huge within a matter of months, I know it, but I think he'll always stay grounded and not let the success go to his head. At the end of the gig, just as I was leaving, I grabbed a quick chat with him, telling him how much I'd enjoyed myself and instead of just humouring the little, awkward and embarrassed non-Alexa type in front of him, he seemed genuinely pleased by the compliment. I reminded him that I'd tweeted at him a few days before and he'd replied. He then promised to be in touch the next day. And true to his word, he was, making the now not-so awkward (I was back in West London) non-Alexa type a very happy bunny. I went home and listened to his EP, being just as moved by the songs as I was the previous night. Those of you that know me well know I don't gush about music that much (because I don't know too much about it) so the fact that I'm going doolally over this dude says something (if you forget I just said I don't know much about music). Now, there's a part of me that just wants to keep this artist's music to myself for a little bit longer as the recent exposure means that he'll be a household name in no time but his music is so beautiful that I think everyone needs it in their lives, and to see his on stage relationship with his band. This awesome dude is Pete Lawrie (his drummer is Elliot and bassist is named Mike). Go and find his music now, if you don't you'll regret it in a matter of months. But remember this, it was me that pointed you in his direction. I know full well a few of my friends (you know who you are!) will approach me in a few weeks with the line, "Oh my, there's this dude whose music I've just discovered...". I discovered him (amongst us lot) and told you about him, you remember that!
Anyway, I digress, point is that these three talented acts (“talented” doesn't seem to do them justice, “gifted” seems more fitting), the very reason that we were all in that room on that night, had more humility than everyone else in the room put together. That's a bit wrong, no? Well, it's not wrong as humbleness is a most admirable quality but it was difficult for me to understand how people who have an excuse to be a little conceited (I said a little) were remarkably less so than a good few of the audience. A scary thought, eh? Perhaps their joint “insecurity” that night was they were exposing their souls to a room full of people, some of them strangers, making them vulnerable?
Anyway, I'm off to listen to Pete's "How Could I Complain?" whilst feeling bad for judging people and having a slice of humble pie in the process, remembering I've made no impact on the world unlike Monday night's performers. x
