On our camping trip this summer, my dad told me he thinks I'm an introvert, telling myself I'm and extravert. I've been thinking about this. He says if I was really an extravert I wouldn't write poetry.
I've been thinking about this comment, and my own sense of ease in my life, and I'm wondering a lot about it. I think there is some truth in what he says. We agreed that very few people are one thing or another. We're all lots of different things, and for each measure. In this case it ranges from extreme introvert to extreme extrovert, with all kinds of calibrations in between. Further, a person could be inclined differently in different situations and life phases, while basically being one way in general.
I think I live the life of an extravert. I don't take/have/demand a lot of solo time. I do crave it, and I find it in my own ways - during my blogging time, in which I entertain myself with myself, and in the car (that's when I sing, recite poetry and sometimes cry) and probably when I exercise, now that I think about it. Even in the cycle class, once the endorphins kick in, I zone out and take a private thought expedition quite frequently. hmmm
During the course of a normal, busy day, I am surrounded by people at home and at work, and in my leisure life. I thrive on laughter, intellectual stimulation, attention, appreciation and enjoyment of friends and family. It feeds me. I seek it out, build my life to get as much as I can and do as much as I can. Mostly it is very satisfying. I am blessed with good physical and mental health and abundant energy that allows this high level of interaction and activity. I go for it almost all of the time.
I think part of my resistance to acknowledging the other side of myself comes from being snobbish about jumping on pop-culture waves. So I am resisting the "simplicity" movement and everyone who says they're looking for "balance." Even if these are good things, I don't like to join in the mantra of the masses chanting precious platitudes about this year's version of how to live the inner life.
But that other side is there, even if I don't refer to it in terms of balance. It's the part of me that wears pajamas until the last possible moment when I have somewhere to go. It's the part that carries a book around in my briefcase so I can hide in a corner and read, even for five minutes when the opportunity arises. It's the part that writes poetry, blogs and actually loves doctor's waiting rooms, buses and long car rides. At its heart, it wants its very own quiet place to be alone for indefinite periods of time.
So if I refuse to look for "balance," maybe I'll just have to think about this part as a partly overlooked part of myself, talk to it once in a while and find out what it needs and what it can do for me. Hey there intro-self. What's up?
question: how many parts make a whole?
mompoet - asking my intro-self if she wants an apple muffin