Wednesday, February 5, 2014

Fortress of solitude

I've always been far more wallflower than social butterfly, but in the winter I come perilously close to the precipice of reclusiveness. I'm not antisocial; I love people (though I cannot say if the feelings are mutual). But sometimes my awkward/introvert/robot-ness holds me back. And I just really, really, really hate being cold. I have no problem getting up early to run in the cold and dark, but at night...inertia, man. A robot at rest under all the warm blankets is staying at rest until acted upon by  some serious sunshine.

Someone once told me I'm "a loner who likes people," which is an apt description. I need both solitude and company. I love being at home but I also want to see and do everything else. I can be passably human in one-on-one or small group interactions, but I'm terrible at parties and large gatherings (though I do enjoy any party that promises excellent people watching, good music you can actually listen to without being jostled about and/or delicious dessert). My default assumption is that my presence anywhere offends rather than pleases. I don't know why. It's just the way I've always been.

It's also one of the things I most want to change about myself, because people are the best part of life. It doesn't matter what else you have if you don't have people to share it with.

I'm never going to be the life of the party and that's ok. I just don't want to be the death of it. I just want to know how to skip all the small talk and get to the place where I can have a bona fide going-on-fabulous-adventures, holding-hands-in-victory-across-finish-lines, jumping-out-of-airplanes* posse.

*I think I really need to skydiving again soon.

Lyric of the moment: "Oh my darlin' keep your head up, keep you heart strong, keep your mind set in your ways. 'Cause I'll always remember you the same. Oh eyes like wild flowers within demons of change..."

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