Day 540: The Flip Side of Facebook

"Don't you just LOVE meeting new people?
Discussing ideas ... swapping life stories ... learning what makes them tick.
I find it SO invigorating."

Actually, no.
I have never, in living memory, felt the faintest hint of desire to meet a "new person".

When someone invites me to a party.

In fact, my fear scale looks a lot like this:

1. Heights (I sobbed my way through the black course at TreeGO)
2. Meeting new people / having to make small talk with someone I don't know well
...
...
...
...
3. Death
4. Seaweed that touches my legs while I'm swimming
5. Zombies, sharks, insects that might crawl into my ears at night, James Cameron's movie Sanctum, and everything else I can't think of at this exact moment

This is not to say that once I have met the "new person" and gotten to know them a little better, that I don't enjoy spending time together and building a friendship based on mutual interests and respect.

But meeting people is hard.
Especially the cheerful ones.

I tend to repel a cheerful person's advances in the same way a wary child might react when approached by a frightening stranger:

"Who are you, what do you want, and why are you smiling at me?"

The silent, unsmiling ones are okay, though.
In fact, the weekend I met my husband, I don't recall him smiling once the entire time.
I was hooked from that first blank stare.

He does smile quite often now, if you're wondering.

I think this also explains why I like animals so much.

Two things seem to heighten this unfortunate social paranoia.
1. Crowds
2. Pregnancy (hormones ... who knew that they would revert your mental state back to being an emotional teenager?)

This past weekend, I had the brilliant idea of accompanying my lovely mother to a ladies' retreat on PEI. We arrived at the dining hall late on the first evening, and waited for the speaker upstairs to finish her talk before digging into the snacks.

I can't imagine anything more terrifying than sitting at that table, waiting for several dozen good, kind, and cheerful Christian women to come traipsing down the stairs in search of cookies, fresh-cut vegetables, and cheese dip.

I fled five minutes later.

In fact, I fled quite a few times that weekend, once in tears, and spent most of my time in my bunk with my book choice for the weekend, ironically titled, Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking by Susan Cain.

While it didn't help much with the social anxiety, it did help me appreciate the benefits of being able to crave and enjoy time alone.

Creativity, a character trait that I would scarcely know who I was without it, is one of them.

In a roundabout reference to the famous scientist Sir Isaac Newton, Cain explains that, "...if you're in the backyard sitting under a tree while everyone else is clinking glasses on the patio, you're more likely to have an apple fall on your head."

So while this aspect of my personality certainly makes it more difficult to enjoy socializing, I also value the quiet enrichment it has also brought to my life.

---

The weekend retreat also made me realize how much I depend on Facebook and other technologies like email, texts, and even blogging for initial social contact.

Growing up, I often felt that people were unnerved by my silent, reserved persona. While I wrote pages upon pages of thoughts and ideas in private, I remained unable to string together more than a few sentences in a public forum unless it was for a formal speech or presentation -- ironically, I have no fear of public speaking.

I also found it difficult to shake this image since most encounters with "new people" were in large groups, and I find conversing one-on-one to be infinitely easier and more enjoyable.

Consequently, I learned to carry a book-shield most new places I went and gradually lost interest in forging more than one or two new relationships a year because the amount of effort required was astronomical and it often required me to misrepresent myself as an extrovert -- and therefore lose part of myself -- in the process.

And then Facebook.

There have been a lot of honest and hard-hitting video shorts made recently about the pitfalls of social media.

Parents neglecting their spouses and kids while repeatedly scrolling for updates on a tiny mobile screen.
Young girls feeling a negative self-image because of their friends' unrealistic selfies.
Jealousy and envy and manipulating statuses to get more "likes".
Stretching the truth -- and even outright lies.

All are very real dangers.

But I can't count the number of friendships that have begun or deepened in real life because one or the other of us have added each other on Facebook.

A profile is like a window into a life.
Sure -- most of us make sure that only our clean laundry is visible.
And the glass might be a little rosier-tinted than life really looks like from the inside.

But unless you are one of the silent readers who never posts...

Show me your profile and I'll show you what you value,
...how you spend your time (or at least some of it)
...who is important in your life
...what we have in common.

Then, when I see you on the street, when we have coffee together or go for a walk ... I'll have a lot easier time keeping up a conversation. A conversation that, over time, may even deepen into a real friendship.

And hopefully, the next time you see me ... the strange, silent person hovering uncertainly on the edge of the crowd ... please don't assume that I don't respond enthusiastically to your cheerful greeting because I'm unfriendly or because I don't like you.

Because if you've read this far, you already know otherwise.

According to Susan Cain, one out of every two or three people you will meet today on this continent is an introvert. Others are extroverts, and some are in-between.

Whichever group you self-identify with, know this:
We are not alone.

And so I will continue to cherish my beautiful moments of silence.
But I will keep reaching out to this noisy, sometimes-frightening world in every way I know how.

---

"Whoever you are, bear in mind that appearance is not reality. Some people act like extroverts, but the effort costs them in energy, authenticity, and even physical health. Others seem aloof or self-contained, but their inner landscapes are rich and full of drama. So the next time you see a person with a composed face or a soft voice, remember that inside her mind she might be solving an equation, composing a sonnet, designing a hat. She might, that is, be deploying the powers of quiet."

-- Susan Cain, Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking

Day 531: Waiting

Being a school librarian is a surprisingly mercenary profession.
At least for one week in June.

If you've ever worked as school support staff, chances are that you remember the horrors of "bumping week". But for the uninitiated, it goes like this:

1. The government cuts positions.
2. The people whose positions have been cut choose new ones, or "bump" in order of seniority.
3. The people who get "bumped" bump somebody else.
4. And so on and so forth...

Until it gets down to me.
One and a half years of seniority.
Three available positions to "bump" into.

(If they're not already gone.)

Two out of the three positions have only two thirds of the hours I currently work.
The other has less than half.

While I love my job and enjoy meeting new peeps every year, it sucks to be laid off each June and spend the summer waiting and wondering whether or not I "did the right thing" by leaving my permanent, full-time teaching job at the private school.

Needless to say, I have been glued to my phone all day.
My heart leapt into my throat when it rang at lunch, only to hear that "...as a preferred WestJet customer, you have been selected to..."

(I hung up after that because I live an incredibly boring life and have not actually flown anywhere in the last decade.)

But sometimes, phones ring with good news when you're expecting bad.

Just after school, I received a text.
A happy one.

After being on display for less than a week, my painting has sold.
To someone who lives in BC.
For $425.

Could I paint another one for the auction?

"Who Has Seen the Wind?"

Aaaaahhhhhhhh!

To say that I am absurdly excited is an understatement.

And so,
while it's still bumping week,
and while I might get a call tomorrow that cuts my September salary in half,
or tells me that I have no job to go back to,

I am reminded that just six days from now,
I will be sitting down at my kitchen table and beginning the first day of two beautiful months
as a full-time artist and author.

May the Force be with us all.

:)

Dave is smiling, too.
But only because he just caught and ate a fly.
Yum!?

Day 526: Changes

In retrospect, I'm not sure which was worse.

A. Knowing there was no way I could make it to the washroom in time.
B. The cats that gathered afterward in anticipation of a (partially-digested) second breakfast.

At least Sam didn't hear me start to hurl.
But if he had ... cleaning up afterward would have been much easier.

Basically, my Monday started off explosively.

The last three months have been an crash course in early pregnancy. The following stand out as among the most useful lessons I've learned so far:

1. M-e-a-t is a four-letter word. So is m-i-l-k.
2. If you can't eat gluten, you will crave gluten, and only gluten. Cinnamon buns, pizza pockets, toaster strudels, and Eggo waffles.
3. But since you can't eat those things ... the thought of eating any food becomes disgusting. But if you don't eat food, you will soon feel even more disgusting. Your choice.
4. Going grocery shopping is basically like walking into a horror movie.

And my personal favorite...

5. Pre-natal vitamins are unbelievably huge and impossible to swallow when nauseated. But ... if you time your gag reflex just right, your throat will open up just enough to choke them down. But if you time it wrong ... terrible, terrible things will occur.

:(

However, since this on-again, off-again blog was ostensibly started to chronicle my journey to becoming an author-artist, that is all that will be said about that.

I am happy to announce that my doctor has vetoed my usual summer job of painting white walls white, and that I will be spending the summer writing and and doing art, and hopefully building my passion into an income that will allow me to stay home at least part-time with my as-of-yet-unborn child once maternity leave is up.

A number of commissions and book reviews have already been booked for the summer months, and by August, I hope to open up a little market booth to sell my artwork and do ten-minute sketches of passers-by.

I am also sawing away at a novel and planning on painting some images for the picture book I drafted back in March. In a perfect world, I would be sending the text and pictures away to an agent by the end of the summer ... but I'm not holding my breath (I am, however, crossing my fingers).

My 1000 days is more than half-finished, and it has been filled with more surprise detours than I ever anticipated.

But every time that life drags me away from art and writing, something pulls me back again.

Creating is something I can't not do, and I am so thankful that I get to spend the summer pursuing my dreams in earnest.

The End.

(P.S. My next post will be less about me and more about drool-slurping cats, disgustingly adorable dogs, and works of fine art).

Of course, tomorrow could also find me curled up on the couch watching Netflix with bucket in hand, and trying very hard not to move.

Because moving makes it worse.
Much, much worse.

Happy Friday!

Day 410: Time

10 000 hours.

That's how much practice Malcolm Gladwell says it takes to master a skill.
Assuming his logic is halfway correct, I am proud to announce that I have hereby mastered the following skills:
1. Sleeping
2. Working
3. Reading
4. Eating
5. Multi-tasking (ie. work + read, sleep + read, eat + read ... you get the picture)

And Gladwell must be right, because I am exceptionally good at all of the above activities. Unfortunately, sleeping, working, reading, and eating does not a fulfilling life make.
But as of late ... it has been my life.

I expect that you have a similar list. And a similar problem.

Weekdays, I work from 8 to 4, then tutor for another 2-4 hours a night. I trundle my tired body home, kiss my sweetie on his furry cheek (darn beard), eat a quick supper, and curl up on the couch with a good book. I also try to spend quality time with my ever-patient husband, take the dog for a walk, and even keep the house from looking like it's been trashed by a horde of angry zombies (who have a propensity for leaving dirty dishes on the counter and dirty laundry strewn about the floor).

But by the time my brain is relaxed, so are my eyelids, and I brush my teeth and slide between cold sheets and double-check my alarm to make sure I'll wake up in time to do it all again tomorrow.

If I could have one wish granted (by a genie, fairy godmother, or other such benign, magical, wish-granting being), it would be for more time. More hours in a day. More days in a year.

Money would be nice too - but only because it would allow me to reduce my responsibilities and free up more time.

Odd, isn't it?
Unlike a paycheck, the time we spend today won't be doled out again next Friday.
Each hour is unique and unrepeatable.
And a minute spent today is a minute spent forever.

You'd think everyone on the planet would be extremely careful about how we spend the days that snowball into years and decades .... and lifetimes. Because how is life measured, if not in time?

But our most precious resource is also one of the easiest things to waste.

I'm not knocking TV laughs or social media or relaxing on the couch with a smartphone and a hot cuppa Joe. Because a regimented, guilt-filled life is as much a waste as one spent chasing pleasure and novelty without a thought for tomorrow.

And goodness knows there are seasons of work or sorrow, when lackluster days stretch long into wakeful nights and we trudge through life in heavy boots and blinding snow ... until the storm ends and the sun shines bright in a blue sky.

But it's easier to creep Facebook than to meet a friend for coffee.
Easier to to watch Hoarders than to tackle spring cleaning.
Easier to open an app than to read the Bible.

I am almost halfway through this blog-project ... and more conscious than ever of how quickly time can slip through your fingers. While I am experiencing moderate success - two completed paintings in the last month and two more slotted for the coming weeks - I still find it difficult to use wisely what time I have.

And I ask you as I ask myself ...
How will you choose spend your next 10 000 hours*?

Of the time available to you, will you master the art of loving those closest to you?
Will you pursue a hobby or passion that has long been calling your name?
Will you carve out of your busy day time to practice what is important?

I know I will at least try.

My painting for the Isaac's Way spring art auction.

* 416 days - about the same length of time as it's been since I started this blog.