To Clarify

It has been asked of me,

“So you really don’t like people?”

I think this question is coming from my frequent blogments where I claim to enjoy walks more than conversation.  But I really don’t want to give the wrong and unfriendly impression of myself.  I truly wouldn’t want anyone to get the idea that I was born in the Northeast or something. 

Yes, I do really like people.  I like people a lot.  I like cooking for people and encouraging their art or their talents - whether its cleaning or singing.  I do not get my energy from people though.  I am not one of those types.  I am just a recluse of sorts.  I like solitude more than parties, and prefer one-on-one conversations much more to group settings.  I hate when I have to scan the room over and over again to make sure everyone is listening.  For a person who insists on unbroken eye contact, this is a complicated procedure and can be dizzying.

I hate the sound of my own voice.  This is really why I say to my writer’s groups, “I am not a team player.”  It isn’t because I like to be in charge, or because I even think that what I have to say, or read, is unimportant.  I truly just don’t like to hear myself.  I sound like a breathy 10 year old.  I’ve heard myself on voicemail.  It’s laughable, really. 

If I like you, you know it.  If I don’t, you learned that fact pretty quickly.  Most likely, it wasn’t about you, wasn’t your fault, (Tell yourself that anyway). I would never return your phone call, ask you over, suggest a Balderdash tournament with you, or smile in your direction, if you were someone I did not want to have around.  I smile a lot, and while I urge you not to be fooled into thinking that means I am an extrovert - I smile on purpose.  My smile is meant for you if you get one from me.

So, don’t confuse introversion with grumpiness.  I am not a grump.  I am not “Pennsylvania-friendly”.  I am born-in-the-South-raised-in-the-West-friendly.  The kind where you can stop over (announced, of course, because I am an introvert)and reveal that you are hungry or need a good cup of coffee, or that maybe you have a life decision and you need someone (who doesn’t like to hear herself speak) just listen to you and grunt back, “Sure.  I hear ya,”  or say, “I’ve been through that…” and then I will suggest my own personal version of your story, and I am learning that women, extroverts, first-borns, and only children do not like it when I do that.  I am ammending that little piece of my personality for those of you who are irritated by it.

I like listening.  I enjoy it.  That’s why I ask you so many inappropriate questions about you and then, write about it when you are not looking - names removed of course.  I am not an interrupter, so if you get interrupted by me, it also means that I find you completely fascinating.  And you could be fascinating for a host of reasons: 

You are tragic (like a prostitute or a homeless former lawyer), you are beautiful and have absolutely no idea that the world drools when you walk into a room, you are genius with messy hair, you are an artist whose talent amazes me, you are an incredible parent who has all these nifty little ways of making kids realize how important they are in this world, or you are just nice and you are willing to answer why you moved from Norway to Greece and then finally settled on Paris, Texas.  Maybe you are a grump, but you are a cute old man.  That’s interesting. Or maybe you are simply you and I don’t even know why that makes you so very compelling, but it does, and so I must have you over again and ask you more questions or take pictures of you when you are not looking.  I have several pictures of Homeschool Jennifer like this and a couple of a few of my male friends eating when they don’t know I am watching.  They always seem to be eating.

I know you extroverts completely think I am writing to you personally, but that I am afraid to directly respond to you.

Don’t confuse me with a passive-aggressive either.  I have no issues with directness.  If you ever tick me off, you’ll know.  But I have worked on my temper this last year.  I have not yelled at anyone at Verizon in many moons, and recently, I was told, “Even though you can get really angry, I have never heard you talk down to anyone.”  That was a huge, huge compliment.  It actually made me consider crying like a girl when I thought about for a few minutes.  But I didn’t.  I am saving crying for The Dirty Dozen.  My weird, hairy brother made me think of it that brilliant movie the other day, and I think I have convinced my sweetheart to watch it for date night - either that or The Great Escape.

But enough about me…What I really want to know is how you became who you are.

See, someone who doesn’t like people would not want to know that.