Various Non-Blogalectic Things

Masha gave us the week off, so you get a page full of random today. Especially since we just got our first almost-glimpse of Darcy on the Lizzie Bennet Diaries, and Lizzie Bennet fans everywhere are typing in capslock. I won't subject you to that, at least. But seriously. Darcy. (Is it less annoying if I use italics?) This is when the story starts to get good.

First, I'm mostly including this little video on introverts and extroverts because the drawings are so fetching. But also because I go in for nearly everything that recommends making the world a little saner for us reclusive types.



Second, Mythgard Institute. Where you can take accredited graduate school classes on fantasy and science fiction literature, notably The Lord of the Rings—or go through Wheelock and learn your Latin. They've just opened their spring 2013 quarter for registration, so if you're interested, check out the awesome.

Lastly, Arabella just sent this to me. You know how I feel about stars.

Solitaire: The Artist and Quality Time with Himself

Source.

"The only thing that could spoil a day was people and if you could keep from making engagements, each day had no limits. People were always the limiters of happiness except for the very few that were as good as spring itself.”
~Ernest Hemingway

"Most artists, it seems are somewhat introverted - and solitude is necessary in order to create, but our lives are not lived out in a vacuum, and the experiences of living are also essential to art. How do we strike a balance? How do we defend our solitude without becoming too much the recluse?" 
~Masha

Three years ago—to the week—this writer began a career as a stay-at-home wife with no children, which means that I spend the majority of my days by myself at home. Perhaps by expectation I should be starved for social life, as well as bored, but I'm also known for standing by myself in the corner at choir practice and not talking during book club and resenting any buildup of evening engagements. And no, I am basically never bored.

Writers, not to mention artists in general, have a strong reputation for such eccentricities. I'm hardly the first to posit that without behavior described by bemused and occasionally resentful extroverts as "anti-social", much of the art and literature and music of the world would not exist.

(Speaking of writers, Mr. Pond did not post this week, which means it's just Masha and me again. But I like talking to Masha, so that works, even though we miss our fellow blogalectician.)

I'd like to respond to Masha's questions primarily with a question—or rather, two: What is this balance we are supposed to achieve? And when does someone become "too much the recluse?"

Is balance something defined by personal situation, or by outside law, or both? What does it look like? How will we know when we've managed it? Was the seclusion of Emily Dickinson more wrong than that of the Desert Fathers? Society, by default, is run on the extroverted principle, and its little social rules are not made with either the introvert or the artist in mind. Should we take its dictums on what is and is not acceptable keep-to-oneself-ishness as moral law?

As the answers to these questions condemn or justify my daily existence, I've done some writing on the subject already, notably in response to some online commentary and in a previous blogalectic. Others have canvassed the subject as well, and if I weren't writing last-minute today, I might pull up a few quotes. For now, I'll make do with the brief and fascinating statement Masha pulled from the poet Rilke this week:

"I hold this to be the highest task for a bond between two people: that each protects the solitude of the other."

The Church protected the solitude of the Desert Fathers. Emily Dickinson's family protected hers. My husband and I attempt to protect each other's, and there are not many aspects of our life together that I consider more important for either of us.

Whatever the balance we artistic and introverted types work toward in our own lives, whatever our level of reclusion, this much is true: we have to band together and defend each other's hours of time alone. And defend our own, as well. Even if we never create great art.

Introvert, Know Thyself

Those of you who have spent much time around this blog—or me, for that matter—know me for an introvert. Since extroverts make up about seventy to eighty percent of society, bringing their priorities into their majority rule, I enjoy any work that speaks to the inner questions we quiet ones carry around with us:

• Why can't I keep up with the rest of the world?
• Am I boring?
• Am I a bad person for lacking the energy to be publicly involved in important causes?
• What keeps me out of the inner circles—and why do I suspect that if I got in, I'd be forever exhausted?
• Is my need for silence, books, and process time an unhealthy thing?
• Why does anyone like loud music?
• Am I the only one who couldn't shut their eyes and describe what everybody in the room is wearing?
• Why won't the person sitting by me in this airplane stop talking?
• Why do people bother with the telephone for non-urgent concerns when there's email?
• etc.

For those reasons and many more, I enjoy the blog Shrinking Violet Promotions, which celebrated this gray and sleepy Monday with a post entitled Dispelling Ten Myths About Introverts. It made me want to cheer, especially this part:

8. We are not broken extroverts.
Really. We’re not. Stop trying to fix us already.

But I also strongly appreciated number 10, which pointed out that being lost in our own thoughts does not amount to being self-absorbed:

"We are self aware, which is an entirely different thing. The thing is, when we are alone, we’re not just thinking of ourselves and our feelings, we’re thinking of you and your feelings, the human condition, society, spiritual matters, in general, pondering deep thoughts."

Self-absorption happens to all humans, including me. But—amen. Usually, my silence means I'm overtired, writing a book in my head, and/or trying to solve the problems of the universe.

All of the ten myths and responses interested me. Some time ago, I gave up worrying about the fact that it takes me a long time to think through things, that I don't have a lot of physical or emotional energy, that I'll never really be popular or much sought after. Introversion and its attendant limitations and difficulties give me nearly every strength I have in areas of focus, depth, compassion, perseverance. It also makes me who I am as a writer. It's not a problem; it's simply a set of boundaries that I must live by or abide the consequences.

Those consequences are real and serious. I once ran them all the way up to severe depression. That isn't something I care to try again.

With the ten myths adequately dispelled, commenter Carin Bramsen corrected another big misunderstanding: introverts are not milquetoasts. No, we are not. Extroverts may fight like tigers, but introverts fight like a stone wall. We won't move to stop your free rambles, but we protect our sacred ground.

Of course, there are a few other myths to be handled, such as introverts lead a boring life (that's entirely a matter of personal preference—I haven't been bored outside the Department of Licensing in a number of years), or, simply, introverts are boring (if you've made it this far down my blog-post, I hope you'll disagree.) There's also the idea that introverts are uncommunicative (Blogs and email are God's gift to introverts—a way to communicate at leisure), and I'm sure there are more.

Are you an introvert? Do you know one well enough to understand them? What do you wish the outgoing three-quarters of the populace knew about the quiet sector?

Why They Call Introverts 'Anti-Social' and other stories

After tallying up the various signs of spring last week, I should've expected the snow.

My friends in Anacortes got over a foot in the blizzard. My sister guesses at sixteen inches in her yard. My friends in Mt. Vernon have posted shots of snow-covered patio tables that look like frosted three-layer cakes on a decorator's wheel.

Here in Bellingham, half an hour's drive from Mt. Vernon and forty-five minutes from Anacortes, we have half an inch. The streets are dry. And apart from the fact that the wind is still blowing, I'm not complaining.

* * *

Lou and I had only one busy evening this week. I couldn't remember the last time that happened, so I asked Lou. "Summer," he said.

Both of us are introverts, and we can tell how stressed we'll be at the end of the average week by how many busy weekday evenings we're scheduled for. One is fine. Two is all right, although more stressful if he and I are busy on different evenings. Three is a strain, and any more than that means have a quiet weekend or go crazy.

It felt good to be quiet.

* * *

Maia: "Ooh! I knocked it over and it rolled! Best game ever."
Me: "Oh... eww... no, kitty. Get out of there! All right, I'll pick you up and make you..."
(Two minutes later)
Maia: "Dang it, you caught me already!"
Me: "Don't you do that again; I just told you No. Find your sock or something."
Maia, hiding behind a chair in the living room: "Cats can play with anything they want."
(One minute later)
Me: "Maia, I will NOT PET YOU if you play with the TOILET BOWL BRUSH. Go find something else to do!"

Sheesh.

* * *


Writers' link of the week: An intriguing in-depth interview with John B. Thompson regarding the history and present state of the publishing industry. (H/T @RachelleGardner)


* * *

Literary link of the week: Mr. Pond just wrote a fascinating piece on the absence of literary criticism in our vehicles for common thought. Well worth the read.

* * *

Music of the week: I do try not to repeat artists very often, but this new work of Eric Pazdziora's gave me chills.



Besides, Eric has been helping me with my query letter this week, as has Mr. Pond. I totally owe them both one. Or maybe ten. :) Enjoy.

* * *

Funny of the week: Okay, if you've never used the Gather hymnal in church, which is probably most of you, since it's—I believe—supposed to be Catholic, here's an ordinary funny for you. Made me laugh. (H/T @ACatholicWife)

But if you ever have used the Gather hymnal, you simply have to check out this medley of... well, in scatterusout's words:

"With the new Mass translations coming out this year, the "Gather" hymnal will sadly become obsolete. With that in mind, I composed a tribute medley to some of the best songs contained therein. Unfortunately, I didn't have a hymnal around when I was tracking this, so I did the best I could to remember the lyrics from memory. Enjoy!"

Lou and I sat on the couch and laughed through the whole two minutes and forty-nine seconds. I'm no friend of book banning, let alone book burning, but how about book recycling? There are thousands and thousands of these in parishes all over the country. Think how many trees we could save.

H/T The Crescat

* * *

And now I'm going to go spend a quiet evening with Lou. Happy weekend!

Twitter Totter

This post also applies to Facebook, by the way. At least in some regards.

After several months of having an active Twitter account, in which I've mostly fluctuated between posting a couple of times a day to several days of silence, I have come to the same state of suspended decision I've struggled with all along: Twitter seems like a great idea, but I have no idea how to really take part in it.

Or, in other words:

As far as reading other people's tweets, well—that's my television. It takes me less than one sitcom of time per day, and it's pretty nearly as entertaining; people can be creative and funny and interesting, and I enjoy following.

But I never quite know how to jump in there myself. Oh, I've read article after article on How to Use Twitter—after all, it's considered a good skill to have in the publishing industry—but in some ways, those just freeze me up. Every time I pull up Tweetdeck and start to type, I hear all the warnings about not being overly self-markety (so I rarely tweet a blog-post), not tweeting a constant self-broadcast (so if I haven't retweeted someone else's post in the last day or two, I don't dare tweet at all), and making sure you're contributing to the conversation (what conversation? Everybody's talking at once! This is so not polite English talk over tea....)

All I know is: I'm not quite ready to give it up yet.

Do you have the secret to updating your Facebook status or managing Twitter? What do you like best about the people you follow?

Best non-paralyzing Twitter links I've found: Nathan Bransford's How to Use Twitter
Rachelle Gardner's A Few Hints on Twitter