One More About Weirdness
I've pondered narcissism a lot. Mostly from the outside looking in, but I would be lying if I didn't occasionally wonder if my blog - this blog - is, in fact, a form of narcissism. I write almost exclusively about myself - my thoughts, feelings, and experiences - and I put them on the web for anyone to read. Granted my readership is small and I've done little (ok, nothing) to grow it. Still, though, am I out here doing this - as in this, the very thing I'm doing right now - to get attention? To feed some narcissistic need to be noticed, recognized, talked about, seen? I'm skeptical that there's any credence to the argument at all. More often than not, I prefer to blend into the woodwork, be unseen, drift in and out with little notice.
However, my writing..... I do want to be read. If I didn't, I wouldn't post it, have a blog, link it to my social networking accounts. I would write for me and for me alone. And, yet.....I've never done that. Since the moment I started posting my ramblings on MySpace back in the day, I've been read. And I've enjoyed it. Being read, I mean. I've long said that if my words resonated with even one person, it was worth the effort, the criticism, and the occasional ostracism. Remember, when I started writing and posting, it was 2006 and I was a lesbian living openly in a small Texas city. As odd as it may sound, I was the first lesbian many ever knew they knew and the first out-and-proud-not-in-your-face lesbian for others. I was unique. And I stood in my truth and told my "story."
I've been told time and time again that my words mean something. Ok, not every blog, every time, but enough to let me know that I'm still on the right track. These days, when I do write about being a lesbian, it's all matter-of-fact and rarely earth-shattering or life changing. I honestly spend more time being truthful and open about my brain, my sanity, my introversion, and my assorted inanities and how I make it all somehow work for me.
Yes, it's all about me....but what if it's all about someone else, too? What if there's someone out there thinking that they are the only one? That no one "gets" them or could possibly ever understand? Maybe they wonder how they can ever make it work. And then they read what I write - what I think, what I feel, what I experience - and it changes how they see themselves and their place in the world?
Because, look, a month or so ago I wrote about having a favorite spoon. I thought I was beyond bizarre. Turns out a lot of people (who seemingly are not beyond bizarre) have favorite spoons and bowls and plates and coffee mugs and forks. Here's my point: By writing what I wrote - admitting openly that I felt weird and why - I learned that I'm not alone, that other people share my weirdness...or maybe it's that we aren't actually weird at all.
And that's why I keep writing. It's for me. And for everyone else out there. Part of it is that I want my readers to know that they aren't alone, but it's also so I don't feel so alone. I'm different, always have been. Through my writing (and posting), I've discovered that we're all kind of different. Perhaps in our own way but different nonetheless. Knowing that others feel much the same way I do - that even though we are far from similar, we aren't all that different either - is pretty kick a**.
~~
All that leads up to the today's topic. I've been offered (and accepted) the opening shift at work. I'll be 6-3 with the exception of Sundays which will be 7-4. Most people love the early shift because it gives them time in the afternoon to do things - go to the gym, run errands, nap. For me, the early shift means I'll be up at 3am to workout before work and in bed no later than 7pm. It means I will once again leave normal behind (Recall, I got up at 2am for years when I worked 5-2) and recede from living something resembling a life. Sleep in and workout after work? Ever spent eight hours on your feet, slinging paint cans to and fro? Trust me, you won't want to put in a hard hour of cardio after that either. Plus an AM workout sets the tone for the day. Most people don't accomplish a damn thing all day. I'll check a box hours before most alarms go off.
As with 99% of life, it's a give and a take. I fear, though, that I enjoy the recession far more than I should. It feeds my introversion and give me an excuse to not. Not what? Not everything. Meet for dinner, coffee, a drink, social tennis, a run? Sorry, can't. I'll already be in bed. It's not like the world is knocking down my door with invitations, but the new early schedule is going to preclude everything that occurs in the evening. It's an introvert's dream.
I can feel my comfort zone closing in on me. And not in a good way. But I love the early shift. I love being up and out before the majority of the world. I love that the first few hours at work are quiet (Also an introvert's dream). I love the people who work the early shift with me. I had a choice - Stay 8-5 and on the fringe of normal or go early and end up several standard deviations away from normal. I chose what I chose and I'll enjoy it. I know I will. Probably too much. Which won't lead to growth or normalcy. Or friends. Meh.....All that's overrated anyway, isn't it?
~~~
I guess my hope is that I'm not alone. I'm not the only one who slinks away from the world every chance she gets...who would rather get up three hours before work to workout even if that's 3am...who values sleep and seeks a minimum of eight hours a night. For all I know, I'm alone in my weirdness - this weirdness anyway. If I don't put it out there, I'll never know.
However, my writing..... I do want to be read. If I didn't, I wouldn't post it, have a blog, link it to my social networking accounts. I would write for me and for me alone. And, yet.....I've never done that. Since the moment I started posting my ramblings on MySpace back in the day, I've been read. And I've enjoyed it. Being read, I mean. I've long said that if my words resonated with even one person, it was worth the effort, the criticism, and the occasional ostracism. Remember, when I started writing and posting, it was 2006 and I was a lesbian living openly in a small Texas city. As odd as it may sound, I was the first lesbian many ever knew they knew and the first out-and-proud-not-in-your-face lesbian for others. I was unique. And I stood in my truth and told my "story."
I've been told time and time again that my words mean something. Ok, not every blog, every time, but enough to let me know that I'm still on the right track. These days, when I do write about being a lesbian, it's all matter-of-fact and rarely earth-shattering or life changing. I honestly spend more time being truthful and open about my brain, my sanity, my introversion, and my assorted inanities and how I make it all somehow work for me.
Yes, it's all about me....but what if it's all about someone else, too? What if there's someone out there thinking that they are the only one? That no one "gets" them or could possibly ever understand? Maybe they wonder how they can ever make it work. And then they read what I write - what I think, what I feel, what I experience - and it changes how they see themselves and their place in the world?
Because, look, a month or so ago I wrote about having a favorite spoon. I thought I was beyond bizarre. Turns out a lot of people (who seemingly are not beyond bizarre) have favorite spoons and bowls and plates and coffee mugs and forks. Here's my point: By writing what I wrote - admitting openly that I felt weird and why - I learned that I'm not alone, that other people share my weirdness...or maybe it's that we aren't actually weird at all.
And that's why I keep writing. It's for me. And for everyone else out there. Part of it is that I want my readers to know that they aren't alone, but it's also so I don't feel so alone. I'm different, always have been. Through my writing (and posting), I've discovered that we're all kind of different. Perhaps in our own way but different nonetheless. Knowing that others feel much the same way I do - that even though we are far from similar, we aren't all that different either - is pretty kick a**.
~~
All that leads up to the today's topic. I've been offered (and accepted) the opening shift at work. I'll be 6-3 with the exception of Sundays which will be 7-4. Most people love the early shift because it gives them time in the afternoon to do things - go to the gym, run errands, nap. For me, the early shift means I'll be up at 3am to workout before work and in bed no later than 7pm. It means I will once again leave normal behind (Recall, I got up at 2am for years when I worked 5-2) and recede from living something resembling a life. Sleep in and workout after work? Ever spent eight hours on your feet, slinging paint cans to and fro? Trust me, you won't want to put in a hard hour of cardio after that either. Plus an AM workout sets the tone for the day. Most people don't accomplish a damn thing all day. I'll check a box hours before most alarms go off.
As with 99% of life, it's a give and a take. I fear, though, that I enjoy the recession far more than I should. It feeds my introversion and give me an excuse to not. Not what? Not everything. Meet for dinner, coffee, a drink, social tennis, a run? Sorry, can't. I'll already be in bed. It's not like the world is knocking down my door with invitations, but the new early schedule is going to preclude everything that occurs in the evening. It's an introvert's dream.
I can feel my comfort zone closing in on me. And not in a good way. But I love the early shift. I love being up and out before the majority of the world. I love that the first few hours at work are quiet (Also an introvert's dream). I love the people who work the early shift with me. I had a choice - Stay 8-5 and on the fringe of normal or go early and end up several standard deviations away from normal. I chose what I chose and I'll enjoy it. I know I will. Probably too much. Which won't lead to growth or normalcy. Or friends. Meh.....All that's overrated anyway, isn't it?
~~~
I guess my hope is that I'm not alone. I'm not the only one who slinks away from the world every chance she gets...who would rather get up three hours before work to workout even if that's 3am...who values sleep and seeks a minimum of eight hours a night. For all I know, I'm alone in my weirdness - this weirdness anyway. If I don't put it out there, I'll never know.
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