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Sep. 29th, 2005 01:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dchenesMy internal timeline is all upgefuckt this week. October is the day after tomorrow, and the My, How You've Grown festival is in mid-October, and that's all right. The problem is that there are some other things in between October and the MHYGF that don't feel imminent. Thanksgiving feels more imminent than some of them. Fortunately I don't need to throw money at any of them; I just need to sit down and write them out in order, so I know when to expect them.
Last night in a fit of utter silliness, I decided that when you make soup and put too much pasta in it, and the pasta absorbs all the liquid, the end result is called schloup. That's what I've got a large pot of sitting in the bottom shelf of my fridge. It's quite tasty; it would be good soup if I put more liquid in it, but I don't want to.
Be warned, what I'm about to say is silly, in the way that leads people to tell me I'm being utterly ridiculous and selling myself short, and to smack me upside the head and tell me to stop that. However:
It amazes me that people can seem to decide, on the basis of being around me for half an hour in a crowd, that I'm worth knowing.
I know that I'm not outgoing, and it's entirely possible for me to go half an hour without saying anything, particularly if I'm in a large group of people, or a group of people who are more extroverted than I am (which is just about everybody I know).
So, for me, it doesn't compute that an extrovert who knows a lot of people just by virtue of being an extrovert can look at me in a crowd and see somebody worth knowing.
Yes, I know there's more to it than that, and I know there's more to me than that, and I know I'm being silly, but the unvarnished truth is, my brain is wired such that I don't understand. It's like trying to explain to me what cilantro tastes like.
So now you know why, when I'm miserable, I don't usually think of social interaction as a way to stop being miserable. But sometimes it works, and I really ought to remember that.
Last night in a fit of utter silliness, I decided that when you make soup and put too much pasta in it, and the pasta absorbs all the liquid, the end result is called schloup. That's what I've got a large pot of sitting in the bottom shelf of my fridge. It's quite tasty; it would be good soup if I put more liquid in it, but I don't want to.
Be warned, what I'm about to say is silly, in the way that leads people to tell me I'm being utterly ridiculous and selling myself short, and to smack me upside the head and tell me to stop that. However:
It amazes me that people can seem to decide, on the basis of being around me for half an hour in a crowd, that I'm worth knowing.
I know that I'm not outgoing, and it's entirely possible for me to go half an hour without saying anything, particularly if I'm in a large group of people, or a group of people who are more extroverted than I am (which is just about everybody I know).
So, for me, it doesn't compute that an extrovert who knows a lot of people just by virtue of being an extrovert can look at me in a crowd and see somebody worth knowing.
Yes, I know there's more to it than that, and I know there's more to me than that, and I know I'm being silly, but the unvarnished truth is, my brain is wired such that I don't understand. It's like trying to explain to me what cilantro tastes like.
So now you know why, when I'm miserable, I don't usually think of social interaction as a way to stop being miserable. But sometimes it works, and I really ought to remember that.
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Inappropro of your posting, really
Date: 2005-09-29 11:39 am (UTC)Good talking with you on Tuesday, though. And what's fun about our crowd is that even the quieter ones get noticed. Occasionally, we get noticed because we're quiet; we stand out that way!