Alone time

14 07 2010

I’m not an extrovert. All evidence to the contrary, people say. I can see it. I like people. I like talking. I like talking to people. A lot.

But every one of those MBTI-type tick-a-box-and-we’ll-put-you-in-a-box things I’ve ever done backs me up. I’m not an extrovert. I’m not an introvert, either. I’m in some vague balancing-act territory. Either-or. Neither-nor.

It means is that when I’ve been around people a lot, I crave silence and space. The opposite is much less often true.

At the moment at work I have to be in full out-there mode. I’m new, I’m leaving soon and I have a pile of things to deliver, meaning I need to talk to lots of people who don’t know me and don’t particularly want to. I’ve been talking a lot.

So tonight, my lovely Architect invited me to a dinner with some other lovely people. Which would have been warm and comfortable and friendly. But what I really wanted was to curl up in the beanbag and eat pasta and then work through a pile of personal administrivia that’s been piling up. And one of the reasons the Architect is my Architect is that he gave me a kiss and left me to it.

So here we are. Me, a pile of tax papers, some Nick Cave and a cheeky beer. Not the most exciting evening but damn it feels good.




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