An "Aha" Moment

“I am insatiably curious about human nature.”  --Susan Cain

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My amazing, intelligent (and not to mention drop dead gorgeous) sister-in-law and I recently spent an hour on the phone chatting away about life and laughed and talked and talked.  In our conversation I was telling her about how our youngest recently picked his new scout troop and found one that fit his quiet demeanor and absolutely loves the environment of the group…not rowdy, soft spoken, and a bit more reserved like him.  This led her to mention a video on TED.com (LOVE this site) about introverts.  She couldn’t remember the woman’s name who spoke on the topic, but thought I would find it interesting to watch.

Well, this morning, I went to TED and searched “introvert” and up popped the video lecture by Susan Cain. I watched the video and felt one of those “aha” moments Oprah is always talking about.   (Actually several “aha” moments were felt during the nineteen minute and four second video.)

I was completely drawn in to her topic instantly.  It’s powerful.  It’s common sense but put in a fresh light that it appears to be a new topic even though we all know it’s not.

I found it most interesting because we have an extroverted son (our first born) and we have an introverted son (our second born).

The video is fascinating.  Susan Cain makes so many wonderful points about how our society and culture truly favors and praises extroverts.  We really do.  I unconsciously (until today) did. 

I would like to invite you to spend a few minutes of your day today watching this video.  I have posted the link for you to make it easy.  Simply click HERE to watch it.

Once you’ve finished watching it, I’d love to hear your thoughts on the subject.  It has changed the way I view the two personalities.  It really has.   Feel free to leave me a comment.  I love hearing from you.

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I too am insatiably curious about human nature.

I Have Girly Handwriting, But...

I have girly handwriting.  I like to make loops and curvy letters and always make each letter legible.  I used to write my name over and over until I got it just right.  I like g’s and any letter that ends in an upsweep like a cursive “n” or “m”. Basically, I write like a girl. 

But do I really?

I read quite a bit each day on my computer.  I read the news, school information, weather, my favorite blogs, recipes, etc.  I recently came upon a site that I thought was spam at first, but after reading about it, I thought I’d give it a try?

The site is called “I Write Like” and can be found here at www.iwl.me .  Simply copy and paste a bit of your writing/journaling into the box and it will analyze your word choice, style, etc. and tell you who you write like. 

I tried it. (Seven times.)

It came up with six different author’s names;  Cory Doctorow, Ray Bradbury, Dan Brown, William Gibson, David Foster Wallace and listed Oscar Wilde twice.

Apparently I don’t write like a girl.  I write like a man.  I find this fascinating.  The site is interesting, but the fact that I write like a man is more intriguing to me.  What about my writing is manly?  Do I ask too many questions?  Do I use stronger, less flowery words?  Hmmm.  Makes me wonder.   I might have to make a trip to the library and get myself a copy of Les Balloons or A Picture of Dorian Gray.    Maybe Oscar and I are soul writers?

I shall investigate and let you know!

What Should I Have Said?

I pulled into the parking lot a few minutes before practice was over so rolled down my window to enjoy the 62°F weather and cool breeze.  Spring baseball only gets five perfect weather days and this was one of them. The ballpark is right next to a dog-walking park filled with everyone and their soggy dog toys and dogs of all shapes and sizes.  The dogs were happy to be out today.

A few minutes passed and a father, his wife and their son pulled in to the empty space beside me.  Mom took the dog to the park after huffing about it and dad took his three-½ year old son’s little bike out of the trunk.  The little boy was so adorable and couldn’t wait to ride his bike.  He put his helmet on his gorgeous head of long black curly hair then dad secured the buckle under his chin and off they went to the other park for some training wheel bike riding in the glorious weather.

I sat there waiting and waiting for practice to end, but should have known it would go late because of the perfect temperatures. They played an extra thirty minutes last week and it was snowing, so I shouldn’t have been surprised.

Thirty minutes passed.

The father and his son reappeared at the trunk area of the car but this time, there were tears.  I thought perhaps he had fallen and was hurt and was giving up, but that wasn’t the case.  He hadn’t followed the rules and rode into the street and wouldn’t get back on the sidewalk so had lost riding privileges.  Dad held firm and the bike went back into the trunk but the son held his ground by trying to change his father’s mind with many “pleases,” but dad said no and the helmet went into the trunk too.

This is where the story changes quickly.  I should have said something.  But what? What should I have said?  The wrong words would have come out and have to admit, was a little worried I’d create more problems if I did.

The mother and the boxer returned from the park at the same time.  The father said, “Let the dog get in first.”  The dog began to move into the backseat at the same time the little boy began to get into the backseat.  The mother, still holding on to the dog, grabbed the little boy’s beautiful long black hair in her fist and yanked him out.  “Dad said let the dog in first,” she said, and pushed him back away from the dog so the dog could get in.  The little boy started to cry and the mother asked, “What? Are you jealous of a dog now?”

I had backed my car into the parking place and sit up high in our car and could have touched them I was so close.  I didn’t say anything.  The mother, still unaware that I was sitting in my car with the window down, got into the front seat on the other side.  When the car backed out, I locked eyes with her when she realized I was watching the entire time.  I know I was involuntarily shaking my head at her and she looked down and broke our stare.  Was she embarrassed?  Was she afraid I’d turn her in?  (I did make note of the license plate.)

What should I have done?  If I had said something, she may have yelled at the little boy more or turned the dog onto him or myself, his leash still in her hand.  It was clear by their actions, the dog was more important.  I was completely shocked and am angry with myself for not saying something. I should have said something.  But what?  What could I have told that mother, who was in a bad mood from the moment she stepped out of the car that would have made a difference?   It happened so fast, but I had a moment, there was a moment, where I could have…should have…said something. 

Perhaps I will have another chance.  I am at that park every day and the same group of people walking their dogs is there everyday as well.  Perhaps I will have another chance.  Perhaps. 

In Search Of A Locked Door

I’ve started this post seven different times throughout this morning.  I am at a loss for subject matter today.  Maybe I’m tired, unmotivated, or am in need of a pick me up of sorts (Starbuck comes to mind).  I don’t really know.  Maybe I’m feeling stuck in between winter and spring. Wear a turtle neck or shorts, boots or sandals?  It’s hard to say.  I could really use a quick push off the creative cliff right about now to get started on something however.

Photo Credit

This always happens to me.  I have so many ideas spinning around in my mind and yet I can’t seem to settle on one for more than three minutes.  I feel like creating a new journal one minute and the next want to sew an apron or take photos of trees. It’s silly really. 

For some, if they don’t exercise they get grumpy.  For others, if they don’t eat, they get grumpy.  For me, if I don’t do something creative, I get grumpy.  Not an upset kind of grumpy, but a stuck in the mud and can’t reach the rope kind of grumpy.   I’m getting close to that grumpy spot and don’t like how it feels. 

I feel as if I’ve been searching for that creative purpose for a while now and just keep going around in circle after circle chasing a tail I don’t have.  It’s frustrating to feel this way.   But, if I’m going to find a way out of the circle, then I have to push through to find a door to unlock and writing it down always seems to help. 

Thanks for letting me do some deep breathing aloud here today.  I hope you’ll enjoy the rest of your day while I walk around my neck of the woods in search of a door to unlock.  I wonder what’s on the other side?

Fields of Gold

Sting is playing right now. It shuffled to him and he’s singing to me.  Just me.  I had a crush on Sting when I was younger (well maybe there is still a hint of crush present). He’s so cute.  How could you not crush on him?  He was on my wall in college above my bed and must have listened to his cassette tape (yes I'm dating myself I know)  three gazillion times in my little pink boom box I got as a graduation gift. My poor roommate, Tina.   Fields of Gold is one of my favorites.  The lyrics are beautiful and simple.  

You’ll remember me when the west wind moves upon the fields of barley.

You’ll forget the sun in his jealous sky as we walk in the fields of gold.

………..

Will you stay with me, will you be my love among the fields of barley…

……….

See the children run as the sun goes down among the fields of gold…

It’s really a lovely tune.  Love in a field of barley.  Who knew? 

Life really can be simple if we let it.  It can be a field of barley blowing in the wind and appreciate it for its simplicity….nature moving with the wind.  Love loving in a field of barley.  The field of gold shines for all to see, to embrace and notice. 

Hold the moments of simplicity close.  These are the moments that are real and true.  These moments are the glimpses into heaven that are here on earth with us now.  A field of barley blowing in the wind shining in all its golden beauty is a gift.