K5 continues to impress, this time with an article about social phobia. Looking at the list of phobias the self-professed—and evidently self-diagnosed—social phobic has, I can say that my problem is not social phobia, but rather shyness. Detect the irony in the last sentence, and I'll buy you a Coke.

The one thing that gives me the willies is making phone calls. Especially to females that I like—in that way—but even with calling my parents, calling a homey, or something as simple as calling the record store to see if a certain CD is in. Today was a good example of the latter: rather than make a phone call, I went down to the record store, which is a 10 minute bus ride and asked the guy working at the desk. (Turned out the CD in question, Kenna's New Sacred Cow, was in, but hidden behind another CD. I could have found that out by making a phone call, but nope.) Receiving phone calls isn't a problem, and I've had some great conversations when on the receiving end. It's just that whenever I make a phone call, it always feels like I'm interrupting something.

Problems also arise in parties with loud music or a large number of people I don't know (or, especially, both: don't get me started on clubs, don't even get me started!); and when initiating conversations with pretty girls, necessarily, but those are things I know about myself and have accepted. I've learned to avoid those situations altogether: if I don't like doing it, why even bother? But that runs the gamut—well, observers of my behaviour more objective than myself may reasonably disagree—and few things, other than the above, put the fear of God in me.

A Coke to the first one who notes the SNL reference in this post. C'mon, it's not hard. This might also be a good time to ask: have you cared for your introvert today?