Tuesday, November 9, 2010


These photos may be somewhat disturbing for some and are certainly not at all what I set out or expected to photograph on this particular evening, but they suited my mood rather well at the time I took them so here they are. Feel free to pass over them and my musings.

One thing Autumn Weekend brought out--aside from some wonderful bird-watcher types and even more incredible birds--was perhaps the illumination of one basic foundation block of why I'm a hermit. Not exactly what I was expecting to take away from the experience. Rather like these photos!

(There must be a story here…)

The folk I caught up with over the event, most of whom I was meeting in person for the first time, were forewarned that a weekend spent in their company would be more socializing than I'd done in at least the last five (and more) years put together. They were then floored to find out how friendly I actually am… Ahem. One can get along perfectly well with people--remarkably well, even--but choose not to.

(They kept asking me where the bars were! *lol* See previous post on grape-picking: I don't drink. The only bars I have ever frequented have had live traditional Irish music to compensate for the rest of the nonsense.)

(At least you died so that another might have a shot at living…)

Turns out, I had a fantastic time socializing. Bars without Irish tenors are even bearable if you're the group having all of the fun. I still maintain, however, that bars are absolutely not the location for one-on-one, beginning-of-a-great-friendship conversation. And that's really the whole point of getting out with other people, for me: the heart of the matter, not the fluff.

I may be a hermit, but when out among people it is useful that my tendency to be a loner is nicely balanced by a relatively large dose of public entertainer. Hey, if I have to deal with you, I might as well be amusing. I excel at small talk. (I can do fluff with the best of them.) On the other hand, when I'm interested enough to bother, I'm frighteningly good at real conversation. (I can get to the heart of a matter even before you realize we're there.)

(One feather. Two feathers. Three… Hmmm. Follow the trail.)

I also happen to be tall (which makes it hard to hide behind anyone), reasonably attractive (I'm told; some days I see it, most days--eh), a flirt (totally in fun), and a bit touchy--as in, humans have this ridiculous notion about personal space and not invading each other's, which I tend to completely ignore. (This lack of touch among human adults may actually explain quite a bit about what is wrong with the world…)

(Not a set-up shot. The wind blew the feather around to meet the pellet. It's quite likely not from the same meal... Same diner, perhaps.)

All of this makes me, apparently, a bit too charming. And being a bit too charming and having to deal with repercussions of being a bit too charming has to be one of the most ridiculous things to worry about when out with other people. What's the point of finally getting out if I can't be myself while I'm there? It's not like I intentionally plan to wreak havoc. And why the hell should I be less than who I am just to make everyone else comfortable? If they can't deal with me, that's their problem, not mine. And if it is going to be an issue I might as well have just not made the effort in the first place. Hence, I'm a hermit!

(Ouch. That had to have hurt coming up; those are bones--big bones--in there...)

It works in reverse, too. I'm a soul-deep loner, so you all really ought not to take me too seriously.

I am happy to report that these revelations struck me after the weekend was over, so I was able to enjoy all of the rest of it. Enough to consider doing something similar again.

Eek, did I just say that---? ::frantically burying head back in sand::