What's Wrong?

Nonverbal communication is a huge part of social interaction. If I looked it up--if I Wikipedia-ed it--I'm sure that I would find that some gigantic portion (like 80%) of all communication is nonverbal. Hold on...here's the Wiki: nonverbal communication. I didn't see anything that might back up my 80% claim, but it is a pretty long article, and I'm not claiming to have read every word. So, let's assume that I'm right. Just about every little detail that we communicate to each other is through subtle physical cues. If this is true, then I am flying incommunicado. Why, you ask? Easy: people are always misinterpreting my mood (and by that, I mean grossly misinterpreting my mood). Okay, here's the example:

Scott: (Happily minding his own business) La, la, la, la, la.

Random Friend: What's wrong, buddy?

Scott: Nothing's wrong. Everything's good.

Random Friend: Come on. You can tell me. Something's obviously bothering you.

Scott: No. I'm fine.

Random Friend: Look, man, I'm here to help. Just tell me what's going on.

Scott: No, seriously, I'm fine.

Random friend: Fine, don't tell me, dick.

As you can see, this is a serious problem. I can't seem to convince the people around me that everything is alright, and it's not just limited to nonverbal communication. I recently had a phone conversation with my girlfriend that went something like this:

Me: "So, what's up?"
Her: "Jesus Christ. Calm down."
Me: "What are you talking about?"
Her: "What are you so pissed off about?"
Me: "I'm not pissed off. I'm fine."
Her: "Look, I'm going to let you go. Call me when you're not acting like such a dick."
Me: "That doesn't make any sense."
Click.

This type of thing is a daily occurrence for me. It's like everybody in my life seems to think that I'm just this sullen and melancholy guy, and so, even when nothing is wrong, it's the signal that I'm putting out. I feel like Mork (of Mork & Mindy fame), hopelessly lost in a world of beings beyond my understanding. Something went terribly wrong when I was being formed in the womb, some horrible toxic accident that caused a rift between my intended message and that which is recieved by my peers. I don't know where the disparity comes from, but it's reasonably safe to blame it all on my parents. My father is known for his tendency to look forlorn when he is bored or thoughtful, and my mother is nothing but a bundle of nerves. There we go: the toxic combination. I (xy) am the end result of my mother (x) and my father (y), which means that my condition can be summed up as a mathematical equation (something like 1/2x + 1/2y = socially inept). Of course, I wasn't exactly a math major, but it looks good enough to me.

Is there a cure for this sort of thing? Short answer: maybe, no, probably not. I doubt there's any way I'll ever learn to look 'okay,' but I'm guessing there're things I could do to help. It might have something to do with my inability to smile with confidence. Maybe if I'd had braces as some point in my life. Or, if I stopped drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. Or, if I took a xanax every now and then. Or, if I really did feel 'okay.' Who knows. Maybe I've just never felt the particular brand of 'okay' that people are always referring to. Maybe I look sullen and melancholy because I am sullen and melancholy. I don't know. It's hard to self-analyze. It requires more than a liberal arts degree. It requires more insight than is available to me.