Insufferable.

I went to meet old friends yesterday, and when I overheard one of them, now situated in one of Russia's medical universities, telling another that the currency in Russia is the rouble, I sort of butted in, the way you do into conversations, saying that I didn't know Russia still uses the rouble, because I read some old Russia literature (Doestovsky/War and Peace), 17th or 18th century I think, which used the rouble. I'd thought they'd have changed it after the Russian revolution.

Then after a bit, I realised how that made me seem like a showoff, a massive twat. Throwing in your knowledge of Russian literature AND adding in the revolution bit at the end? What a dick, right? I then cower in fear and self-loathing, and had, still have, an inner monologue, playing both the parts of the crucifier and the wheedling accused. In my subconscious quest for absolute clarity, I often mention my thoughts and how I came to have them (it does sounds a bit cocky otherwise - why do you say you didn't know Russia still uses the rouble?), and I'm a nerd who prefers books over most human interactions, so odd vocabulary and esoteric knowledge tend to slip out, even though I must say a lot of said esoteric knowledge comes from the most frivolous sources - the revolution bit comes from watching Disney's Anastasia one too many times when I was small. I'm like Reid, from Criminal Minds, who when sharing information or in normal conversation comes off as having read too much. So I fear I might come off as an insufferable prick too often, when I don't feel that I'm better than everyone else because I know more things, and should show it off. But I read what I read, and I know what I know, and stopping those things from slipping out is too much of an effort, and is a sort of duplicity that I instantly want to rebel against anyway.

So in short, yes, I'm trying to work at being less awkward (where does one start?), but it'll be nice if you'll excuse this knowledge-dropping which might occasionally get on nerves. There's just so many self-deprecating jokes one remembers to insert whenever I feel like mentioning something a 20 year old 'shouldn't know', especially when I'm excitedly in a conversation. Oh, you must excuse me.

Yes, I do realise I might be overthinking things, as I'm very wont to do apparently, and they know me long enough to excuse this as inept social skills, not bragging, or they didn't even notice. But the fact that I noticed it grates on my nerves.