I Wanna be a Hermit When I Grow Up

I promised a picture of the new lamb today.  He has been named Tim.  Aksel christened him. 

And now a little wry humor, or a little humor gone a wry….

I used to be a rock solid extrovert.  Undeniable. Off the charts.  By everyone who even remotely knew me and even myself, though it was constantly impressed upon me by those in my life who are pressible, that really, a good person, a worthwhile person, is an introvert person.  And I would have to agree, the introverts around me sure as heck got in a lot less trouble than I.

But over the years after many failed attempts at being a lady-like person, trying my darnedest to not talk personally to complete strangers in random lines, sneeze loudly, guffaw at the jokes that would cause others to only smile politely, spit out the most random, opinionated, ridiculous things at the most inappropriate moments, after giving up on getting that type of behavior under control, I decided to embrace it, and so lived the rest of my adult life in only mild midnight-reflective embarrassment of myself.  

But now in the last year, and a bit, I’ve come to realize that something drastic has come over me.  At first I thought I was just a bit tired from two rather whirl-windish years of great changes.  But in reality the biggest change that came out of the last few years?   Is me changing from being an extrovert to waking up one day as an introvert. 

I’ve taken several personality test to make sure, an’ sure enough, even after trying to cheat, it is confirmed, I am a diagnosed introvert.  Golly, now I become what my mother wished she could make me, just a few years too late for her enjoyment, and too late to have spared me the loss of dignity several times over, not to mention a few friends and most likely even more relatives.  And I fear that it is only getting worse, my changing personalities. 

I year ago I noticed that I no longer had a desire to host the impromptu party, or a planned one for that matter.  Now I dread feeling like I might have to. 

All I can say is, this is weird.  Sunday Dirt and I went on a wine tour of the south sound.  I hated it. 

I did enjoy having time with Dirt. And many of the wines. And I know many of you are saying, “Isn’t that why you go on a wine tour?”  And yes, but the old me would have really gone to meet new people, talk to folks I’d most likely never talk to again.  But instead the new me hated all but maybe two of the conversations I held with the winemakers or fellow tourers.  Okay, maybe hate was too strong of  a word here, well one I did hate, I even told Dirt that I needed to learn the art of ending a conversation nicely, but very quickly, before I feel I need to say, “you are a complete boob, and I find zero redeeming value of having a conversation with you.”

Funny, I only thought that was how I was feeling toward talk radio hosts and their crews.  But no, apparently I’m feelin’ it toward 80% of the world’s population.  There was a time when I thought any conversation was worth having, and anyone was worth meeting and chatting with as if we had known each other forever.  Oh, I’m not saying that back in the day I didn’t call a boob-of-a-person a boob, for sure I did, but I never minded having a conversation with them, and I would definitely have invited said boob to a party, hey, the more the merrier is the more the merrier.  Not so much no more. No parties, no boobs at parties.

Aside from that there are some other changes this change is bringing.

It has brought me to cleaning up my Google Reader.  I was finally able to edit it and for it to stay edited of people I found I really had zero connection to, now my Reader is down to a manageable level, both in time to read and enjoying to read, ahhh, maybe I can get back to actually reading the blogs I want to because they aren’t getting lost underneath one-hundred I don’t want to get to.

It, this personality change, is bringing me to want to beg Dirt to keep the radio off.  Permanently. The news itself is hard enough to take all on its own.  But with the movie critic giving his psychoanalysis on the latest psycho in the news, as if he were qualified to give those sorts of pronouncements anywhere other than at some cocktail party or around the family dinner table over poorly prepared pizza?  Oh but wait, why not?  Earlier this year we got to listen to some stupid woman (same station) who could call local farmers a joke because they didn’t really farm and she should know because she grew up in Iowa, and for some reason found herself on the radio daily and that makes her an authority on who’s a real farmer? Turn the radio off Dirt.  Please! And hopefully the local farmers will refuse to feed her.

I have heard that introverts aren’t really shy, and they don’t really hate mankind, they just like to take in and enjoy the people around them but not say anything. They aren’t necessarily exhausted to utter fatigue by the mere thought of people, just that they need a little time alone to recharge their batteries. 

Maybe I’m not an introvert either.

I’m thinkin’ I just no longer fit under a nice polite euphemism.  My sweet mom is probably still glad she isn’t here to see this.