I’ve been reading Quiet by Susan Cain in efforts to turn my brain off at night and maybe find out why the word “networking” gives me acid reflux. Yes, telling a group of strangers “what I do” is my idea of a nightmare. I tend to melt into corners at parties and I’d rather crawl into an industrial washer than attend another “orientation week.” I often marvel at the fact that I’ve managed to make any friends at all. Indeed, many parties and people send me running for the hills, but of course there are exceptions–nights and humans that leave me warm, inspired, and happy to have a mouth. Cain would argue that socializing can be difficult for an introvert because they tend to crave “deeper” connections, the sort of connections that go beyond weather and work dilemmas. Me? I’m just looking for people who get choked up when they hear this song. Everyone else is heartless and weird.
Cain also talks a lot about the types of environments intros vs. extros feel best in. Like my personality, my preference is somewhere in the middle. A day in the country and a day in a big city energize me in similar ways. It’s the anonymity that attracts me about both. The vast expanse and quiet of a country walk and the endless characters that filter through cities both calm me. I’m that goober smiling her way through the streets, wondering where the balloon seller goes when the day ends. In the country, I’m wishing everyone would shut up while I recover from the immensity of life.
I took all of these photos in 2013 at Las Fallas festival in Valencia. It was a dream state and I loved every moment of it.
Luv and other thugs,