Not Your Typical Introversion Post... Or Is It?

During the past several months oodles of Buzzfeed and Buzzfeedesque websites have published lists about introversion. For instance: 27 Problems Only Introverts Will Understand. The other trend? People, mostly extroverts, are sick of hearing about introversion. I get it. But here's what you might not get... we live in your world, at least we do here in 'Merica. Some of us have been doing so for twenty-some years or more, and all of our lives we've either been told there's something wrong with us or that we're weird or that we're snooty.

I promise we aren't. Seriously, take a walk in my flip-flops for a day, especially one of my high school days. In no particular order are a few moments from my high school years in which I've been publicly shamed or had to find a way to avoid public shame because of qualities that stem from my introversion.

1. I start to walk to the front of the classroom to give a presentation, and I hear, "Awwwww. She's so cuuuttte." No. I was a student who was not fond of public speaking who had to speak publicly. I was and am still not a fucking toddler who did the cutest thing ever or some adorable dog who'd just rolled over. I was a 17 year old student trying to do what I was told to do. Officially not cute or awe worthy.

2. "Julie, what's wrong?" Nothing. Why? "You look mad." No. This is just my face.

3. I was never much for going out. My friends used to think my mom was a total bitch because if I got an invite to do something that I didn't want to do, it was easier to say my mom wouldn't let me than to have to answer the endless questions about why I didn't want to go out to the mall or to a party or whatever was happening.

4. After showing a video for a group project for sophomore year English, someone turned around, and said, "Wow. I always thought you were boring, but you're actually a fun person!" Thanks? I'm not sure why you made that assumption... because I still don't understand how quiet and studious equals boring. This is probably why I had a rebellious phase in college. I thought I had to prove I was "cool."

5. "Why aren't you going to the school dance?" There was never a good answer to this question. I tried them all. I even tried to go to a dance because I thought I would regret not going to my senior prom. The only positive of attending that dance is I have future memoir material. I had to kiss a dude I didn't want to kiss because he wouldn't stop trying to kiss me. It was less awkward to kiss him than continue to avoid. I should have kicked him.   

Now that we've revisited a bit of high school, albeit very briefly (Thank you, sweet baby Jesus), let's take a look at why despite the above incidents, I supposedly should still not whole-heartedly embrace my introversion now that I'm slowing heading toward thirty, the supposed age of self-acceptance.

According to Chelsea Fagan at Thought Catalog reason 14 (out of 21) she's sick of hearing about all of us introverts: "...but often we use the struggles introverts face as a good excuse for them to be outright unkind to, or inconsiderate of, other people. (And don’t you deny that shit, either, you know you guys are constantly talking about why you shouldn’t have to be expected to call people back or show up to things.)"

First of all, you have a run-on sentence unless "either" (without its pal "or") is some magical new conjunction I missed whilst learning. Maybe you were too busy being an extrovert to properly edit your piece. Second, you're a bitch (if you're smart, you picked up on this in my first sentence). And just so we're crystal clear, that statement does not stem from my introversion or my smarty pants, introverted brain deciding I can call you a bitch and blame it on my introversion. I actually think you're an ignorant bitch. Clearly, no one has ever deemed you boring or bitchy because you don't talk enough, you read too much, you like school, and/or you need extra alone time to "recharge." Do you know how that feels? Why am I even asking. Of course you don't know because you just decided and wrote a blanket statement that I along with my introverted friends are the real assholes.

You're also an ignorant bitch for this one too: "And frankly, if it’s an aspect of your personality that you hold onto that firmly, I highly recommend investing in actual personality traits, such as “sense of humor” or “good listener,” or even just “makes a pretty good frittata.”"

Duder. You don't get it. So you should just shut the fuck up. Have you ever talked to an introvert? Because, you know, we actually do talk. How do you know I'm not a good listener? Frankly, I'm not sure why they let you publish this list because you have no fucking clue what you're talking about because one of the traits of being an introvert is BEING A GOOD LISTENER. Also, introversion is actually a personality trait (http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/fulfillment-any-age/201108/there-s-more-introversion-you-might-think). Being an introvert likely indicates a person has several other more specific personality traits. But again, being an introvert is a mother fucking personality trait as is extroversion. It's like little houses of personality traits. So when we introverts embrace being introverted, we are embracing multiple traits at once. We are probably doing so because for so many years we've been called weird or geeky or quirky or some other adjective all because of a collection of items listed below*

1. We prefer one-on-one conversations... maybe with some tea or coffee but maybe not. I personally think chatting over some tasty lattes is an excellent way to socialize. But hey, if you want water or tea or soda, then get one of those beverages. 
2. We aren't much for parties. They over-stimulate our minds. Don't get me wrong, I've been to several good parties and had excellent times. But I usually had to talk myself into going. I could honestly go for a good old fashioned game of beer pong right now.
3. We prefer chilling at home. It's even better if a book is involved!
4. We are "reserved" because we don't talk "enough." I can guarantee you there are at least two people who would gladly trade places with you for at least a day. Right Jeff? I'm sure there's been at least one time he'd have put a zipper on my mouth if it were possible.
5. We are "aloof" because we haven't said all that much. In reality, we are absorbing the shit out of our surroundings.
6. We over-think things, or we're way too intense. So what if an illustration of our minds looks like this:
   
7. We tend to do well in school. Apparently this is some fatal flaw unless someone forgot to do their homework. I've fallen prey to the "Can I borrow your worksheet?" one too many times all because I was horrified of saying no because I already felt so uncool because of all of the other issues I've mentioned. Don't ask me now though. This bitch has learned to be assertive when needed. 
8. Need I say more? I could, but I shouldn't have to do so. So I won't. If you don't get it now, go pick up a book on introversion, even if it's just to prove that you too like books. 

So yes, we are embracing the hell out of our introversion. No longer will we allow you to think the things you've thought about us all because we like books and video games and prefer in-depth conversations with one person rather than brief conversations with a throng of people. No longer will allow you to think we're boring weirdos who don't like to do the shit you do. We are far from boring-- that graphic says it all. You just have to give us a chance. We know you prefer and/or can handle being around large crowds more than us, and that's okay. We also know you like books and being alone sometimes too. So we aren't weird. We never called you weird. We've never not invited you somewhere (because again, contrary to popular opinion we actually go out and know how to have fun) or overlooked you or didn't talk to you because we thought you were boring as fuck. Hell, we might even make for good pals-- sometimes we need to go out to a club or bar and dance the night away too. And sometimes the best person to do that with is an extrovert (plus, you totally handle the bar situation better than us).

*Sources (not in proper format because I'm too lazy for that shit since this is not an academic paper):

1. Susan Cain's Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking
2. MBTI Basics: http://www.myersbriggs.org/my-mbti-personality-type/mbti-basics/extraversion-or-introversion.asp
3. 23 Signs You're Secretly An Introvert: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/08/20/introverts-signs-am-i-introverted_n_3721431.html
4. My brain... I realize I cannot actually cite myself, but I'm doing it because my students always ask me if they can be their own source. No you can't, but I'm going to be my own source because I'm the teacher! Boom. Yes, this is completely devoid of logic, but it's my blog. Boom, boom.

Hello, Goodbye

I never realized how much Sloane meant to me until today. I knew her health was failing, but I didn't expect her death to hit me so hard. I mean, she hissed at me every time I came home. She once peed on the floor in protest to Maggie's presence (BTW Sloane was a cat in case you didn't realize you were on a crazy cat lady's blog.). Maggie was only there for a few days, but the those few days made Sloane hate me forever. Not really. I think she was a fiercely loyal cat who didn't want anyone infringing on her territory or her ownership of my mom. People might have thought Sloane was grumpy or mean, but I think she just loved her people. They were her people and her people only. So in a way, she kind of peed on the floor out of love. It's weird, but then again, we're talking about cats, specifically cats I picked out... and we know how much luck I have in that department.

I think that's why losing Sloane is so fucking hard. I picked her. I picked her after months of begging my parents for a new cat. For some reason I thought it was a good idea to get a new cat RIGHT AFTER Marley (Marley is my most famous dead cat-- just ask my best friend. Before we were best friends I thought it was a good idea to tell him about how awesome my dead cat was... I might have been intoxicated, very legally intoxicated. And somehow we still managed to become best friends!) died. That didn't happen which is probably for the best. I did manage to convince them to let me get a cat about three or four months later... and the next day they took me to college.

So Sloane never was my cat, but she was kind of like a sister. A sister that got annoyed when I came home for the weekend. But she was my cat sister. She met my first boyfriend (the one I count as first because technically he's the second). She kept me company when I was home for the summer. She always "said hi" whenever I called my mom. She was at my college graduation party... basically she's existed and been around for most of the important milestones I've been cognizant of so in some way she's associated with those memories.

At least I've still got Maggie. But holy balls when she's gone. I cried on the way to class today, stumbled over words because I accidentally thought of Sloane, and almost canceled my office hours but didn't because leaving my office made her death more real. I'm going to need a week off and lots of tissue when Maggie leaves. See? I can't even say Maggie and the d-word in the same sentence.

I'll love you forever, Sloane! Go find Grandma Darling. She's got your back!

To end on a lighter note, I introduce you to Purrcy, "in the flesh!"

Wisconsin Part 1

Spoiler Alert/Warning: I am going back to my old writing style which involves cursing. You are warned.

So Jeff and I took a trip to Wisconsin. It sounds totally lame, but it was far from lame. It's no Florida, but it was better than no vacation. Plus, I got this rockin' pillow!

You might think it's creepy, but I think it's awesome. It is a pillow and a Maggie look-alike all rolled into one.

Anywho. Maggie pillow aside, this trip contained too much awesomeness for one post. Today I'll cover the hiking... and some randomness. Part 2 will cover most of the beer. Yes, there was that much beer! Don't worry. It was a classy affair-- microbreweries and tastings. It's like the man's version of visiting a winery. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy a good beer, but I'm no connoisseur like Jeff. But I digress.

First of all, we found 39 states on our road trip. Yes. We played the license plate game. What of it? It was a road trip. Road trips are boring as fuck if you don't find something to do. Sure, I read a book, but my eyes get tired if I read for too long, and my brain wonders into dark and strange places if all I do is stare out the window. So we played the license plate game. Word of warning: it becomes more of a competition when you're in your late twenties. I thought I saw New Mexico at the rest stop so Jeff ran over to confirm. It was New Mexico. We high-fived. We also scoured our hotel parking lot... twice. Somehow this will have to be contained when have children, or they will turn into assholes.

After arriving in Wisconsin we hit up the Ale Asylum. We were mostly hungry, but we also wanted some local beer. Jeff got some avocado wrap thing. I went with the pulled pork sandwich... on a pretzel bun. I sent a picture to my parents, and my mom was all "I thought you didn't like pulled pork." I just like good pulled pork. Sorry mom. It's true. I'm a food snob. Accept when it comes to Cracker Barrel. That shit is good. As for the beer...

I tried out Unshadowed. Ale Asylum says "this classic German Hefe-Weizen is soft and uber refreshing. It is light golden in color, with a hazy appearance. It has a hint of bananas and cloves in the aroma, and a tantalizing sweetness in the finish. If a dewy Spring meadow had a flavor, Unshadowed would be that flavor." This description is spot on. I don't even like bananas! Also, now that I think about it, I don't know if I'd say this tasted like a dewy Spring meadow, but it was still delicious. Also, if you are a student, please note how I properly cited my source. It's really not that difficult. 

Jeff's beer was gross. But that's probably because I don't have a refined palate. I also don't like beer like he does. If it's a wheat ale, I'll probably dig it. If it's anything else, I won't like it unless it tastes like water. So I like wheat ales and shitty beer. But if you like beer, well good beer, you might like Jeff's choice, the Sticky McDoogle. It has the best name ever. You can kind of see it in the background of the above picture. According to Ale Asylum this "traditional Scotch ale is full-bodied with an earthy aroma. It has a smooth malt presence, with just the right touch of hops for a balanced, clean finish." Jeff isn't here so I don't know if he would say, "Yeah! Exactly." I do know he thought the Sticky McDoogle was tasty. Ha. That's funny. You know you're thinking what I'm thinking. Also, again, if you're a student... I totally credited my source again!

We pretty much fell asleep after this. Well, first we sat in the jacuzzi for a few minutes because the "heated" pool was fucking frigid. Then a little girl kept splashing me while I tried to dry off. Then I realized I was turning into my mother. I literally thought, "What the fuck? Why isn't her mom correcting her behavior? My mom would never let me splash like that, especially with people around. Seriously, why won't she stop splashing. This is so annoying. FUCK. I'm turning into my mother. She totally thought this about kids when I was a kid, except her thoughts weren't laced with F-bombs. I'm turning into a F-bomb dropping version of my mom. Fuck me."Then we went upstairs because Jeff could tell I was annoyed.  

We totally crashed. Really it was a good thing because I was not prepared for the next day's hike, even with a decent night's rest. Apparently my body is falling apart. I knew I had issues, but I never thought I'd be in the middle of the woods pointing to locations on my body while Jeff took pictures so I could show them to the doctor instead of trying to remember where it hurt and totally failing. 

At least the hike was pretty. If you have allergies, take some fucking Allegra before you go! These beautiful butterflies were all over the place, but where there are butterflies, there is pollen. Guess who forgot to take her Allegra? Me. 

It did not stop me though. You don't get between this girl and a trail with a bad ass waterfall. Not even you, pollen.

Especially when there's a teetering log involved. Please don't tell my doctor or physical therapist.

Next up: Beer! Beer! And more beer! There may also be a goat. See, now you're intrigued. Seriously, you better read Part 2. Whenever I get around to writing it.

I'm Not An Olympian, But I'm Trying To Change The World...

In case you didn't already know this, I used to be that kid who wanted to go to the Olympics. I know. Who didn't? But I think I wanted more than most... not as much as those that actually go or even attempt to go, but I really, really, really, wanted to go. Alas it wasn't my fate. I was born into a family that couldn't afford it. I'm sure... actually I know my mom would have found a way to scrap up the cash for me to make my dream come true, but I think somewhere deep down in her supermom vat of knowledge, she knew I was never meant to be the next Shannon Miller. I'm neither blonde nor flexible.

Seriously though, I think she knew that life was not for me. I wasn't made to eat, sleep, and do gymnastics. I was made to eat, sleep, tumble, do homework, and on a rare occasion hang out with friends. She didn't want me to miss out on the simpler things in life... like cookies and boys and working in Lowe's Garden Center. I know all of that sounds lame compared to being an Olympian, but  I'm happy where I am right now... and I think competitive tumbling did enough damage to my body. I can't imagine having anymore problems than I do now.

Will I ever forget my dream? No. I will always reminisce about what could have been, but for now I'll just have to stick with being a college speech instructor, helping students shed their fears...

and a silly baker and blogger who hopes to help the world one local, organic carton of eggs, one local chicken, and  one t-shirt from Locally Grown Clothing Company at a time all while having no elbows! Okay so I do have elbows. I'm not sure I could have tumbled without them, at least not the way I did. Regardless, I'm a reminiscent gal who thinks you should think about where and who your food comes from... minus today's Velveeta incident. I don't think any of us want to know where it comes from. All I need to know is it's unfortunately delicious.

Maggie's Out... Julie's It's The Almost Weekend Words of Wisdom

In 7 days and about 3 hours I'll be twenty-five years old (I may not look it or act it, but that's okay!). I may not be that old or wise, but you'd be amazed at what you learn in the few years after leaving high school. So what have we thus far?

1.
Life lessons are not always pleasant. In fact, you're not going to like this first one. It is perhaps one of the worst life lessons: your mom (and maybe even your dad) is almost always right. You love her, but does she always have to be right? Yep.

She'll tell you not to move in with your best friend or go through whatever cockamamie plan you cook up, but you'll do it anyway. If you're like me, you move in with your best friend, you fight over when to pay the bills, he starts dating a very messy girl who uses your dishes and doesn't wash them, and pretty soon you don't have a best friend.

Now, the worst part is, your mom was right. The second worst part is no matter how many times you read this you will concoct a stupid plan, your mom will let you go through with it, and about two years later you'll ask her why she let you do it, and she will say something like this: "Well, you were going to do it anyway. I figured I'd let you learn the hard way." That's right. She will pull the learning-from-your-mistakes-card. Just remember, it's all because she loves you. I promise.

2.
Only pierce your earlobes. The other ones usually get infected. I mean it! Don't be like me. A man had to remove one of my ear piercings with a pair of needle nose pliers.

3.
This one's four-fold, incredibly important, and a little (maybe a lot) complicated.

If you're like me, your parents made you participate in some sport or activity as a child. My mom signed me up for gymnastics because I thought Shannon Miller was the coolest chick ever. I'm sure there was more logic to her choice, but that's not what's important. You see, I spent about ten or so years doing gymnastics with the coolest man ever: Leroy. When I joined team, my mom made me do tumbling (she had her reasons which again are not important) instead of all around. I was devastated. She totally crushed my Olympic dreams. But alas, I tumbled for a great seven years, and in those years I learned more than I ever thought possible...*

a. Some of you have probably heard this before: don't wear a hair-tie on your wrist. I missed out on a epic tumbling win because of a hair-tie. Neither Leroy nor I have ever forgotten this. We probably never will. So, seriously, don't wear a hair-tie unless it's in your hair.

b. Now, I'm not sure of Leroy remembers this one or not... if he ever reads this he'll probably yell at me because this was almost as devastating as the hair-tie incident. It was the night before a national qualifier, and I was craving a bowl of ice cream. I had my ice cream, but only after I dropped the entire gallon on my foot. Miraculously, I only hurt my toe, but you wouldn't believe what a difference a toe makes. My toe hurt, but I still tumbled, mighty well I must say. But the judges said my foot wasn't turned enough to be considered a double full. I still don't believe them, but nonetheless, it wouldn't have happened if I hadn't dropped the gallon of ice cream on my foot.

So, if you want ice cream the night before a meet, for the love of tumbling, have someone else get it for you.

c. Keep some tissue you in your gym bag. When I get angry, I cry. So, when I had a bad warm-up session before a meet, I cried. Do you know what happens when you cry? Your nose gets stuffy... mix that with tumbling, and you end up with snot coming out of your nose while you're trying to make a perfect pass down the strip. Thankfully, I caught my snot, and I even stuck my pass (and that almost never happened!)! Now, this might be funny, but it's totally gross. If I'd had some tissue to blow my nose, I would have been snot and embarrassment free.

d. You learn a lot from Leroy, tumbling, and gymnastics. After dropping a gallon of ice cream on your foot, you know not to do it the next day. However, there are things you learn but don't quite understand until several weeks, months, or years later. Whether you're a tumbler or an all-arounder, you aren't just learning how to do crazy flips and tricks--you're learning life lessons.

Before we can understand the life lessons learned from hanging out with Leroy, you need a back story.

I remember the day I quit tumbling team. I remember where I was sitting, where Leroy was sitting. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done--I loved tumbling, and I loved Leroy. I'd dedicated my life to this wonderful sport, and I had no choice but to give it up. I never told anyone the real reason I quit, at least not until recently.

I was an advanced tumbler, and my favorite first pass was a barani, whip, full, full, front. Unfortunately, a year before I quit team, I lost my full and my double-full. I never re-gained my full, and I was forced to get my double-back ready for competition. I'd worked on it for years, but never too seriously. I finally had it ready, and then one day I got lost. We all get lost in the air... it just happens sometimes. So, I tried again, got lost again, and somehow managed to bite my knee. I still have the little tooth-mark shaped scar. I was almost seventeen, and I had no idea why I was falling apart. It was as if I was regressing.

Only now do I understand what happened. My body had changed. I was growing up, and my brain didn't know how to adjust my skill set to my new body. Some people's brain and new bodies learn to communicate, but mine never did. So, after a year of not having a full and constantly worrying my brain would say double-full or layout, and my body would just keep turning, losing my double-back was the last straw. It was too mentally taxing. So, what is the life lesson? Well, it's a bit complicated, but I'll try to sum it up as best as I can...

There is life after tumbling. In fact, as I said before, tumbling and gymnastics aren't just about how well you can flip or do a beam routine. You learn self-discipline, you learn how to be independent, you learn to never give up, and you learn there is a difference between giving up and knowing what's best for you.

I didn't give up or quit. I did what was best for me--rather than go insane or continue to hurt myself, I took the discipline, the independence, and the positive attitude I gained from tumbling and spending time with Leroy and applied to other parts of my life.

I finished high school at the top of my class, I completed a Bachelor's degree and a Master's degree, and now I'm a part-time instructor at a community college. However, life isn't perfect. I suffer from clinical depression, fibromyalgia, and I've already started to develop osteoarthritis. None of this makes life easy, and it certainly doesn't help my search and desire for a full-time job. I cannot let any of this stop me though. No matter how hard it is to get out of bed, I don't give up. I find a way to get out of bed and continue on with life because despite my health issues and trouble finding a job, I love life--I love my part-time job, I have a wonderful family, I love my husband who ever so gracefully puts up with my idiosyncrasies, and most of all I think of what my mom and Leroy would tell me.

For years Leroy told me to stay positive and never give up, and my mom continues to remind me of this. In fact, she says life never gives you an obstacle you can't overcome, and the toughest ones usually make you a stronger, more resilient person. So, as Leroy recently told me, stay positive, work hard, and something good will happen. It may not be when you want it, but eventually it will happen. You just have to be patient. 

So, every time Leroy yells at you or asks to see your report card, remember he's not being mean. He's just preparing you for life.

*These life lessons apply regardless of your sport or activity.