"You're so far away..."

I've been sick. And I'm sick of being sick, but my body still has a little bit of flu. THE END.

But what happens to "little miss introvert" is that all that time alone (sleeping, watching DVDs, sleeping) backfires. You get used to being alone. You don't call people, people don't call you. And it becomes easier to stay home and do that Google search you've been meaning to do all week.

(Yes, Sarah Jessica Parker had a nudity clause in her contract with HBO, that's why you never see her bra-less.)

So then the re-entry to life is harder, because if your social construct isn't strong, folks forget about you (or you think they have). And you internalize even more. And the longer you stay at home, the harder it is to get out there with people, because as an introvert, you long to spend time with people that really "get" who you are and if you've been gone so long...it's a really bad cycle.

I spent a few hours in tears (well, maybe it was 45 minutes) part of the time chatting online and when I realized I was creating more drama, I said, I gotta go.

This is the year of the bad smell in the hall. This is the year of the bait and switch raise. Yes, I got a raise. And then I had to buy tires. Which basically ate the entire raise. And then, because I make more, the membership to my professional organization went up. AND because we're in a downturn, the library isn't paying for national conferences, in this year where Twitter has connected me to some people professionally that I want to meet face to face in Chicago.

I do my taxes on Thursday. Hoping for a nice refund. Wondering, if I do get a nice refund, if I need to rearrange my withholding. Ay ay ay. Drama.

And yet, I keep a piece of paper in my calendar that puts things in perspective, big time: "If you have food in the fridge, clothes on your back, a roof overhead and a place to sleep, you are richer than 75% of the world."

This is not the year to purchase a laptop. Oh well. My digital camera is on its last legs.

HOWEVER.

I have dirty clothes, which means I have more clothes than I can wear in a week. I have clean towels. When my mother (maybe!!) comes to visit this weekend, I have a bed where she can sleep.

I feel like this is one of those Psalms of Lament, where David starts out, oh, my bones are broken, everybody hates me, no one likes me, I guess I'll go eat worms, and ends with "Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God."

What's the bait and switch situation in your life right now? What makes you want to sit on the front step (which is crumbling by the way) and cry? Or are you pretty content with things?

May you find a piece of peace today, tonight, tomorrow.

_________
*Carole King

Nobody sees a flower, really, it is so small. We haven't time - and to see takes time like to have a friend takes time.*

Well, Sunday seems to be my "respond to something on BTS." Babelbabe (whom I often affectionately call Babs) just wrote a post about friends. Which was really a post about introversion. Oh, we introverts. Try being friends with an extrovert--my current BFF is one...GAH!

So this was my comment on BTS:

Hon, I understand. I work two nights a week. So on my nights off, I usually DO not want to be doing something with people. I could write a whole post on this...in fact, since I have to write something every day this month, I just might. Heck, at least you'll come comment...

(KIDDING!!)

It's an introvert thing. I think we think that once we reach a certain age we know how to be friends, as if it's the same thing as learning how to walk, or ice skate. OH, this is becoming a post.

I have a friend. She is a dear woman who I met a few years ago. And she has a busy life, inside her house. And she is the most intelligent friend I have. But she is like a bear. She hibernates. But she is also not like a bear, because at least a bear, you know "hey, it's winter, I bet she's hibernating." When we first met, we got together a lot. We spoke on the phone a lot. We were BFFs (in my mind at least) for a while. Now we talk less, and haven't "had coffee" in a long time. For ages I thought it was me. That I had said/done/not done something. But as time has passed, I've come to cherish this woman, and because we had all that face-time back in the day, I can slip into her life for an evening and her children know who I am, and her husband has no problem inviting me in for soup.

As an introvert, I cherish this kind of friend, and I cherish this woman.

So back to my comment. It's an introvert thing. I think we think that once we reach a certain age we know how to be friends, as if it's the same thing as learning how to walk, or ice skate.

Last night I went ice skating. The local Christian radio occasionally sponsors a night of skating for $5.00 at nearby ice arenas. Last year, I went, by myself. Loved it. This year, I went by myself, loved it. Sure, I had those moments when the guy who was teaching the girl (obviously HIS girl) to skate, but I'd be teaching Max, who point blank told me he won't skate. He's out of town this weekend, so it was a perfect time for me to go. BY MYSELF. There were people I could have emailed "hey, come skating with me," but skating is like taking a walk. You can do it by yourself. It is not like walking in the sense that if you know how to skate and you are an introvert, you don't really want to be skating with people who only came to "get out and see people." (NOT THAT THERE'S ANYTHING WRONG WITH THAT!) I only stayed for an hour, but that entire hour, I was pretty much skating, because I wasn't talking on the sidelines, or talking in the middle of the ice on my cell phone. (Kids these days!) I got pretty annoyed by the dad who was trying to take pictures of his kids with his cell phone. But then I found the other rink, the one where the ice wasn't as scuffed up and where there were LESS PEOPLE. And less children. It was divine. Well, until they went and ran the Zamboni on the other rink and my idyllic less crowded rink became the busy one again.

Learning how to ice skate is something we all do or decide not to do. It's not necessary, like walking or talking. If someone doesn't walk by a certain age, the parents worry. If someone doesn't have any friends and they're thirteen and they wear black and write morbid poetry, the parents worry. But when you're thirty five, it's a different story. They don't write books called "Your Thirty-Five Year Old: Nesting and Defiant." (Or for that matter, "Why isn't my Thirty-Five Year Old Ice Skating?")

At thirty five, it's another story. It's not how to make friends, or how to make sure you're friends with the "right" kids, or even how popular you are. It's how to BE friends. Which differs greatly for introverts and extroverts. The woman I am closest to right now is a woman who doesn't have a lot of close women friends. She has a lot of people she does stuff with, and she has those parties, and she has kids, and cats, (one cat?) and a husband. But since she didn't have a lot of "intimates" that weren't in her family, she was learning how to be a female friend by being my friend, I didn't realize she was (an alien) an EXTROVERT. After that, things totally made sense. (Well, no, it never does, being friends is a total mystery after the age of ten--once you have a crush on a guy, friendships are never simple again.) (But that's for another day.)

I'm a hybrid. I am mostly an introvert (like my mother) but often an extrovert (like my father.) My sister is most definately an introvert, I'm not sure about my brother. What is it they say? Opposites attract? I can get on the phone with my dad and talk for HOURS. (Mostly it's him talking, but what can I say, he's an extrovert.) The man remembers EVERYONE'S name. Once, in an airport, as my family was walking with me to my gate, my father stopped to chat (and not just hi, bye) with his barber!! If I call to talk to my mom (whom I adore, in case there was any doubt in your mind), I usually get "oh, I was just sitting down to work, your dad just left." Which I have finally (after years of feeling rejected) unscrambled to mean: "I need to be alone right now." And sometimes I can let her work and sometimes I have to be all up in her face, because, you know, she's my mom. And as much as I love my dad (see above) there are some things that are just in my mom's domain.

Often you can tell introverts or extroverts by the jobs they choose (librarians=generally introverts), or the hours. For instance, I work Tuesday-Saturday. Yes, I work every single Saturday. Part of that is because my cohort in the Cataloging Dept, Janice, also works Saturdays. But part of that is because as an introvert, I used to hate weekends. I never did stuff with people and I felt that that was why you had a weekend. But I liked sitting at home watching stupid movies on FOX. But when I work every Saturday, I get to choose. I can say, "nope, sorry, I can't just hang out, I'm working on Saturday." It protects me as an introvert, it gives me Monday afternoon to sit at home watching stupid movies (although not on FOX, because most people want to watch people fighting over cars and cats on weekday afternoons.) It's my shield. It's my version of "leave me alone, I'm working." But if something comes up, I have the flexibility (how I love the flexibility) to say, I'm going to work on Monday so I can have Saturday off. But it saves me from a lot of needless socializing.

One of the comments on Babelbabe's post was from David, whom I've never met, but he seems like a real swell guy. He also knows Katy. He said, "this realm is definitely a quality not quantity thing. Still, its nice to see nice people occasionally."

Another way to spot if you're dealing with an introvert or an extrovert is to look at their hobbies. Bloggers are often introverts. It's easier to have online friendships with people you'll never run into at the grocery store. It's easier to have an email friendship with someone who lives half a mile away because you don't have to plan when you're going to meet. (A la the plan for invading Normandy, see BTS.)

Oh, and introverts, if you're looking for one, check their desks, they generally have stationery. Because they actually write cards and letters. I'll let Garrison Keillor say it as he says it best:

We shy persons need to write a letter now and then, or else we'll dry up and blow away. It's true. And I speak as one who loves to reach for the phone, dial the number, and talk. I say, "Big Bopper here - what's shakin', babes?" The telephone is to shyness what Hawaii is to February, it's a way out of the woods, and yet: a letter is better.

Email is too easy. I have a friend that gets weekly (sometimes daily) updates on me, she's part of a group of folks I banded together back in the day when I needed a suicide watch. Nowadays it's more like, please pray, I'm overwhelmed, or this is when I'm going to the doctor. Or, I totalled my car. I know she reads the emails, but she never responds. Well, most of the folks never do, unless it seems I'm going off the deep end, which is when I start adding cc's. Again, I thought, she doesn't love me anymore, she doesn't care, I did/didn't do something. Nope. She's just an old fashioned introvert. When we last met for coffee, the next day, she sat down and wrote me a letter. I got a card in the mail, and I thought, oh, it's an invite to her open house, and lo and behold, it was a letter. On a beautiful card that had a picture of a lake on the front.

Again, it's that whole how to BE a friend. Making them is easy. Folks love to make friends. But like Georgia says,

A flower is relatively small. Everyone has many associations with a flower -- the idea of flowers. You put your hand to touch the flower -- lean forward to smell it -- maybe touch it with your lips almost without thinking -- or give it to someone to please them. Still -- in a way -- nobody sees a flower -- really -- it is so small -- we haven't time -- and to see takes time like to have a friend takes time. If I could paint the flower exactly as I see it no one would see what I see because I would paint it small like the flower is small.

Which is to say, time in going for coffee or just hanging out at home, but also time in years. One of my dearest friends is a woman I've known since high school. We have had our ups and downs and we had almost a year where we were not talking because of a bad fight. But her birthday is coming up (so is mine, hint hint) and I know we'll talk then.

All this to say, Babs, you are in good company. Just let's make a date to go to the Sharp Edge sometime soon. Like at three in the morning when neither of us has other plans. We'll invade Normandy or something. It will be fun and there will be lots of things to buy like lingerie and Tupperware.
________________

*Georgia O'Keefe, American artist.

The soul selects her own society, Then shuts the door

(Emily Dickinson)

Emily Dickinson (1830–86). Complete Poems. 1924.

Part One: Life XIII

THE SOUL selects her own society,
Then shuts the door;
On her divine majority
Obtrude no more.
Unmoved, she notes the chariot’s pausing	5
At her low gate;
Unmoved, an emperor is kneeling
Upon her mat.
I ’ve known her from an ample nation
Choose one;	10
Then close the valves of her attention
Like stone.

I'm all jumbled, and when I'm all jumbled, as introvert, I must know myself and retreat into my shell to process. Blogging can so often mimic the shell process since so many of my readers are faceless and far away. And since I do hover on the edges of extrovertedness, I do want to share my struggles, and I know that I'm called as a Believer to share them with my community, that part of my walk is to let people know that I need help so that they can help me and so that we can be real, one to the other. Because it creates a bridge so that they feel they can come to me when they need help. It's a delicate balance, community and relationships...

But so much is happening that I have to "choose my society and close the door." Self-preservation wins out. (A true true introvert I suppose would just shut the door without saying she was. I warned you I can be a drama queen...)

So I'm taking a little bloggy hiatus.

_________
Emily from Bartleby

(Untitled)

I hate anything untitled. It's like, you made something, but you couldn't come up with a name? Or when people send emails with no subject line. I generally write "subject lines are their own art" just to put something up there. But I'm a writer. Writers do crazy stuff like that. Artists get upset about titles and crap. (Or they get super crazy happy--like, can you believe I came up with a title High Fidelity, which is about music, duh, but you know, also about fidelity, in the relationship sense?) I wonder if Nick Hornby has a blog...

I've gotten all introverted on yins, and I'm actually journalling. Yes, I am pouring out my deepest secrets to me, instead of the Internet at large. It's a bizarre turn of events, I know, but it feels good.

But I do miss you, and so here I am.

So I've been on this Nick Hornby binge and I'm 3/4 (or more) through his first, High Fidelity and I just had to share this brilliant line with you.

"So now what? It feels as though I've come to the end of the line. I don't mean that in the American rock'n'roll suicide sense; I mean it in the English Thomas and the Tank Engine sense. I've run out of puff, and come to a gentle halt in the middle of nowhere." (225)

In some universe, I would love to be friends with Nick. I'd call him that, too, just like I call Jen Weiner Jen, even though her books are clearly by JENNIFER.

Funny thing about having friends with people named Susan. Being one, and having gone by Susie most of my life, I generally only was friends with Susans. (I currently am friends with two and work with one.) (So then you have to use last names.) But after 35 years of life, I've now managed to grab a few Sues into my life as well. And so then you have the awkward experience of calling one of the Susans Sue or one of the Sues Susan. This doesn't happen if you name your children something like James. I mean, it's Jimmy, or James. Well, I guess it's also Jamie, so there you go. Robert can be Rob or Bobby or Bob. (Rob is the main character in High Fidelity.)

It's unbelievably eleven in the morning and I have gotten so into Nick Hornby that I almost said eleven in the f**ing morning, cause that's how his characters talk, just as if they walked off the set of Good Will Hunting. I'm sitting here in my nightshirt, still unshowered. I did eat something about an hour ago. Yes, I'm back in that place where I'm scared to eat for wondering if it will stay in me long enough to properly digest. And I haven't dusted in eons and so my allergies were doing a beautiful showing of it this morning.

And I really should be off getting my oil changed, since if I wait til Saturday, that's when EVERYONE is getting their oil changed. But I think that's what I'm doing. I never have Saturdays off, so I never end up doing anything, because no one expects me to be off. I'll have to do something...because most of the day I should be packing, but I have all of Sunday to do that, too, even though my Puritan sense of Sunday says "Packing? on a Sunday? For shame!" Actually, I think NH Sally is free--and I was supposed to stop by to see her last night after work, but yesterday was a day I hardly got through without Gatorade at my side most of the time, so after work I just packed it in and went home.

Well, I think I could finish High Fidelity before it's time to go to work, so that's my goal for the day. I know it doesn't sound like much, but it really is.

Tomorrow is the Stuffed Animal Sleepover. Wish me luck.

All of a sudden I want to know what kind of tree it is that is outside my window.

I have been wanting to find this poem for some time: The River Merchant's Wife, translated by Ezra Pound:

If you are coming down through the narrows of the river,
Please let me know beforehand,
And I will come out to meet you, As far as Cho-fu-Sa. From the Chinese of Li Po.

"I just want to be alone" (Greta Garbo) (with one more quote)

So I have one week until vackay with the family. I hope to do a lot of things BY MYSELF, as in ALONE.

Nothing personal, I just had a week of jampacked-ness. It was a lovely week. I spent it with my friends, and they are all lovely people. But I did more in the past seven days than I did some months this past spring...

Sunday I had coffee at Tazza with a friend. Then I rested for a bit, went into work, and then came home and slept. Monday, I went for a walk at 7:30 with a friend. Then I went to therapy. Then I came home, showered, and went to Sandcastle, with a friend.

Tuesday, I worked. Max called me at work to say he'd gotten home (he went away for the weekend) and when I got home from work (it's so strange that "home" is the same address for us, BUT SEPARATE APARTMENTS) we went for a walk, and then hung out for a bit.

Wednesday, I had lunch with Marian the Librarian, ran some errands after work, and went to Bible Study at Kelly's. Thursday, I ran some errands, had lunch with Babelbabe and Katy (Babs and I had never met Katy before: she is very nice.) Then I went to work. Marian and I had dinner together. Then I came home, Max and I had Italian Ices, and hung out for a bit, because today he went dahn Sauth to visit family and then take a road trip through Canada and back to da Burgh. So he'll be gone for two weeks, so we'll be getting back to da Burgh about the same time.

I think I'll get a manicure after work tomorrow. I haven't had one for a long time.

For some reason, the line from the movie Home Alone just came to me "When I grow up and get married, I'm going to live alone!"

And of course, the line from Jerry Maguire, where Renee Zellweger says, "And I can see this is a time when you need to be alone, to think about stuff. Alone, alone, alone." And Tom Cruise says, "Would you like to go out to dinner?" And RZ says "I know of a great place!"

Tonight it was just lovely to drive to Taco Bell (I have got to start cooking again), listening to A Long Way Down by Nick Hornby (which I am still loving), and then coming home to finish watching Metropolitan. How I love that movie, let me count the ways...cha cha cha.

So I read some of your blogs tonight, but commenting just seems too sociable. So if you're looking for me, I'll be in a cave, reading or something.

I guess I need to figure out which books I'm taking on vackay...

Oh, and Friday is the Second Annual Stuffed Animal Sleepover!! It feels great to not be stressed about it.

**********

one more quote, for good measure:

"Jeff's life in the tenth grade year became suddenly crowded, with people he liked, with things he wanted to do. Sometimes he caught himself protesting to himself: life is too rich...Life is so rich, Jeff said to himself, gratefully." (from A Solitary Blue, by Cynthia Voigt)

I'm a pepper, he's a pepper, don't you want to be a pepper too?

The wall, it has been hit. By me.

I am taking some time off...until next week. I know yinz are dying to see stuff about my Station and I really am going to post, but right now I have too many ideas and not enough energy to post on them.

See you next week.

Have they lost their minds?

Trying something--to see if Blogger will let the title be underlined so folks know it's a clickable link...

I wonder if I have. I was yelling at Kleenex boxes, railing over the radio wasteland, and making so much noise that my darling sister came to find out what was wrong. She diagnosed it correctly: PMS.

"Do you want a hug?" I did.

Yesterday was a full day. Hard work, too. Sis and I went to our favorite used CD store (which now sells used DVDs) and we each spent an hour picking and then sorting to get to what we would actually buy. I never go shopping extensively at home (in da Burgh) because, well, it's more fun to GO with someone. We spent most of our money at the CD Cellar, and so our next stop was a nice sized thrift shop, the Clocktower. I got a great coat (well, my mother calls it a jacket, because of its length) for $4 (it was 50% off).

Then we went to the drug store, b/c I didn't plan ahead for this trip in terms of cold remedies. And since what I had is a Walgreens label item, I couldn't find its twin at Eckerd. I wanted Guaf+Pheno-whatever and I could only find this with Dexo (a cough suppressant) (which, I guess I did need, but I was trying to get less drugs, not more!) So I finally got a Tylenol product that had all of the above and some Tylenol, which I needed, as my head was pounding (probably from my congested sinuses).

Then we got home, and I had to admit to my mother that I didn't have any dressy clothes (our plan was a French restaurant for dinner and then the new movie, Amazing Grace.) She lent me a jumper, a turtleneck, a half slip, and nylons. Oh, and a lovely necklace.

My dad was late coming home from the funeral of a former co-worker's wife, and the tension was palpable. I took a nap (or tried to) anyways.

Dinner was nice, the movie was WONDERFUL, and by the time we were done, I was more than exhausted. I mean, shopping, dinner, a movie, that's a weekend for me, MAYBE. Not ONE DAY!! Little Miss Introvert needed some down time, and unfortunately, while sleep does accomplish that to some degree, it does not fully.

************

The title link is to an article from Christianity Today, about how folks criticize their reviews. It prompted me to write this post, in which I defend what some might think are poor viewing choices. Most of the movie links are CT reviews, except for the SATC, which is from Christian Century.

But I really want to talk about movies. Not Amazing Grace, which was wonderful. I want to talk about Hollywood--the Hollywood I love. And if I love it, I cannot turn a blind eye to its flaws, but admit that we live in Rome. Rome was full of people living reckless, decadent lives. I probably should read more about Rome before I use it as a comparison point, but this is today's post...

What I'm trying to say (badly, I admit) is that there are a lot of movies out there that I love. That I cringe to say that I love, to a degree, because I don't agree with the all the morals portrayed within.

The Holiday: Cameron Diaz's character gets drunk and propositions a man she has just met (who turns up at her doorstep because he's drunk and her doorstep is actually his sister's, as Kate Winslet and Cameron Diaz's characters have swapped homes for two weeks.) But what follows is an honest look at relationships and what role fear plays in staying or leaving. So I can't throw out this movie just because its characters make decisions I might not make.

Sex and the City (yes, it's come to this): I do not condone Samantha's, Charlotte's, Miranda's, and Carrie's promiscuity. But they are honest about life, (even if their wardrobes lie) and the plight of unmarried women. And their ultimate choices are good ones. This is not a show that you can watch one episode and make a snap judgement on. More to come on this.

The Sweetest Thing: I am embarrased to say I loved this movie. I bought it for 77 cents at the library bookstore and have watched it at least five times. It is lewd, it is horrible. But it is FUNNY. Again, it is honest about the life of the single woman.

Because I said so: EVERYONE panned this. The Christian critics and the non-Christian ones: Stay home, was their mantra. I loved this movie. I laughed more than I have at a movie in a long time, and the best part (yes, a SPOILER) was the cake falling on the guy's head at the end of the movie. Mandy Moore slept around (with two men) and her mom at long last found love. But Moore's character was the most self-assured single woman I have seen on the silver screen for a long time. A single woman who taught classes at the senior center on how to cook gourmet for one? I need to take that class (says the woman who eats frozen food most nights of the week.)

Other movies that fall into this category (movies about unmarried women):

• West Side Waltz (a real think piece...very good!)
• Wedding Bell Blues
• Picture Perfect
• While you were sleeping
  
  My point: (did I have one?) if I only went to movies like Amazing Grace, I would go to the movies once a year.
  
  I am 35, so many years beyond the rating system (PG-13, R, etc.). I do not have young children. I am old enough to know what my decision is regarding the sexual morés of the day: post-marital sex. But that is a decision I made after a lot of broken hearts and a lot of soul searching. It is not a decision I made based on the movies. I don't make decisions based on the movies. The movies are entertainment. I may learn something, but that is not the reason I go to the movies. I know the difference between real life and Hollywood.
  
  Thankfully, I can say, "I choose to watch this." Or not. I finally have given up on Crossing Jordan, which, now that NBC has quietly laid to rest Studio 60, (or not, see link) there's really nothing for me to watch on TV. I like mysteries, and I enjoy the whodunit qualities of CJ, but the shock value is going too far for me, and I don't like that Australian journalist that keeps showing up as a love interest for Jordan.
  
  So that's today's soap box.
  
  All that to also say this: we each need to know our weaknesses. My mom hates any movie that has extra-marital affairs. She did not allow me to watch soap operas in high school. So I watched at friend's houses. (I don't think that's what she meant, and I knew it...)
  
  A lot of people I know (why do we live our lives based on the opinions of others, or write entire posts defending our taste?) will not watch Desperate Housewives or Sex and the City because of the immoral lifestyles portrayed therein. I have only seen like three episodes of DH, so I can't comment there. I don't turn a blind eye, but rather say, there are pieces of this that are wonderful. I do not want to be Carrie. I have been in her shoes in some ways, in my twenties. I would never want to relive that heartache that comes from misunderstandings about sexual relationships. But I also can see sex as a metaphor. In so many movies (which are a standard two hours to signify two years or two decades) a kiss is a metaphor for "we have gotten to know each other."
  
  I can't read bodice ripper romance novels. Which is why I love chick lit--there's still the romance, but less sex. I love Hiassan, but I can't read his mysteries for adults. Which is why I hope he continues to write more like Hoot, which I loved. (I'm looking forward to reading Flush)
  
  It's my blog. I get to ramble about what I want to, and it doesn't have to be in good taste or grammar or well written.
  
  Oh, and I watched Vanity Fair (Reese Witherspoon)--it was a visual candy store!! Am now reading my sister's copy of the book. Has anyone seen Monsoon Wedding (the same director)?

So I skipped church. I'm going tonight (which is what I'd do if I was in Pgh) and the 'rents will be home momentarily from Sunday School. Sis and I have both had nutritious (albeit frozen) lunches.