To be an artist you must enjoy lots of time alone. And I do. (Dramatic directors are an exception.) My angel complained that all my activity is in my head -- that being with me is a lot like being alone. I solve a lot of the world's problems in my head. I collect impressions that go into my creative works. I daydream. I fantasize. Someone in high school accused me of liking my own thoughts better than that of others. My ex-husband told me I lived in Disneyland. Is this why later a 15-year relationship with a lovely man ended so abruptly? So, angel, if I shared what was in my head I'd be talking all the time. I'm processing life.
When I was 8 my father paid me a nickel to shut up for 10 minutes. It was one of those critical moments in life. My parents were having a party and I liked to talk to their friends. But I kept on talking, wearing out one adult after the other, until my father offered to pay me. Or was it one of his friends? (Or both?) So I sat for the required 10 minutes. And as I sat there, the party closed off and left me sittting against the wall in a chair. As I looked at them I realized how outside of it I was. That I was just an annoyance. I collected my nickel and went outside.
I'm not an alien. I do enjoy contact with other residents of this planet. (Although some aliens might make the same claim.) So I force myself to stay in touch for those times when I turn off my head or those times when it's good to be with others, like holidays, birthdays, nights on the town, etc. I'm like the opposite of most people who spend short periods in contemplation or withdrawal and long periods with others. Yes, I'm an introvert.
I wrote today. I posted a daily message. As always, it's available on my other website. I suppose I should link it into my AOL homepage. Okay. Later.