I'm an introverted exhibitionist

This is a Wicked Wednesday post.  Click on the link to see who else is writing wicked thoughts this Wednesday.

The prompt:

My response:

I'm that girl you might see in the corner at the coffee shop, glasses, hair up, t-shirt and jeans - maybe a cardigan to dress it up.  I'm probably reading...or maybe writing...or typing.  Sometimes I'm chatting with someone...but I am rarely in a group.  More likely than even a coffee shop, I'm at home.  I like my space...my things...my people.  And I have a real tendency to get comfortable with routines.

Really, I have a hard time talking to most people.  And the people I do talk to, for any extended period of time...the people that I call aquaintences, a very small sum of which become friends...are a motley crew, indeed.

My preferences?  Blunt honesty.  It takes a lot of trust for me to call a person 'friend', so it's best to be honest.  Intelligence.  If you haven't read a book in the last year...you're probably not my cup of tea.  Cleanliness.  Pulled together, at least.  Showered?  This whole, "I just woke up and rolled out of bed...2 hours ago so I could spend the whole morning primping and putting product in my hair so I could look like I just rolled out of bed" thing...is annoying, at best.  I'm a control freak...I'm sort of a compulsive planner (alright, drop the "sort of"), and I like other control freaks.  You know...responsibility?  Opinions.  Have them.  But also have something to back them up.  And really, let's be honest, I prefer to hang out with people who feel the same way I do about the big issues (government, religion, education...).

My husband, in a loving way, says I'm mean.  This is in relation to the cheery, happy, perky coffee girls who meet us at the drive up window and seem to revel in our every word (can you say "tips"?).  No, I am not perky.  I don't trust people who are that happy and "on the ball" at 6 in the morning.  It's not that I'm actually "mean"...I'm just snarky...sarcastic...wise-assed.  And, generally...I don't like people.

So, I suppose that sounds mean.  In fact, I told my son the other day that Professor Snape was my favorite Harry Potter character.  So, from that statement alone, you can tell that I'm a geek, that I root for the underdog, and that I'm an excellent judge of character.  Pretty much sums it up.

I like people who are different.  And most of my friends are a bit on the "eccentric" or "different" side.  Some are so polar opposite from me that one might wonder what on earth I see in them (for clarification, it's probably all the things I don't see in myself).

I'm perfectly capable of looking in the mirror and facing my faults and imperfections.  Sometimes, I probably dwell in them too much.  Did I say that I can be hyper-critical?

So, yah...an anal-retentive, compulsive list-making, overly introspective, wise-assed, procrastinating, book nerd.  I sound like a ball of fun, huh?  But, in reality...with "my people"...I can easily break out of my shell and cut loose.  Heck, I've even been known to stay up until 4, fucking my brains out - with near strangers.

There's a wild streak buried not too far beneath the surface.  That's probably the case with most people who "appear" uptight.

Anyone looking at me from the outside would be taken aback if they knew anything about my "secret life".  It would come as a complete surprise.

I guess that's why I can look at others, like myself, and see that shadow beneath their exterior.

It's fun to muse about the personal lives of others.  Of course it's all filtered through my own experience.  And it's probably why I write stories about people in positions of service and authority.  The people who are supposed to be, be often are not, above reproach.

I sit here, drinking wine, after nights of not sleeping well so I really should be going to bed), writing to a bunch of people I don't know (okay, some of you I know).  That's obligation.  Or loyalty.  Or dedication.  Whatever way you choose to see it.  Maybe it's commitment.  I suppose I'm nothing if not committed.  It's Catholic guilt - infused in me by generations of family members who only showed up in church when they'd done something wrong...like being present was enough to wash away their sins.

I feel a story about a confessional booth coming on.  How absolutely, and wonderfully, inappropriate.

And I don't do it to offend people.  I do it to challenge my own concepts of the world around me...and to challenge my own desires.

Different.  That was the prompt word today.  Doing something different.  Thinking something different.  Being something different.  If only for a moment.

It's worth it.

So, as the title says...I'm an introverted exhibitionist.  Which isn't all that rare...or different, I guess.

I'm Nobody! Who are you? (260)
by Emily Dickinson

I'm Nobody!  Who are you?
Are you - Nobody - too?
Then there's a pair of us!
Don't tell! They'd advertise - you know!

How dreary - to be - Somebody!
How public - like a Frog -
To tell one's name - the livelong June -
To and admiring Bog!

Emily Dickinson...is definitely one of the "sexiest poets." I love nerdy girls.

And while we are on the subject of nerdy girls I would like to....

Who's with me?

(Did I mention...I have a bit of the ADD? - Astoundingly didactic and divergent?)