I feel as though I’m always torn between being a decent human being and a writer. No idea why, I just forget things I’ve planned when I write or sit down to design or draw something. A friend of mine was furious yesterday for having to remind me about an event (which admittedly wasn’t something I was thrilled about going to – I mean, I had no problem with the idea, but it wasn’t as exciting as going to the theatre) which I managed to completely forget about all over again today. I just spoke to her again, and you could tell she was angry.
Am I a bad hooman for being more interested in spending time in front of a screen tip-tapping away or scribbling on a blank page until my fingers bleed than going out for coffee or meeting new people? Sure, there’s an excitement and stimulation in making new acquaintances, but I am a worshipper of the written word. I do write things down, but that doesn’t always work out (pieces of paper are surprisingly easy to misplace)…
Of course, once I manage to tear myself away, it tends to be fine. I go out, have fun, and then come back, feeling good for a while. Until I stare at a blank page again, needing to fill it with words, thoughts, expressions, dreams. If you interrupt me in the middle of a flow… well, you better not. It has been done (almost every day in fact) but it does lead to some pretty bad arguments.
Are these just excuses? Do I just not care? Should I be trying harder? Granted, not everyone is sociable in the same way – there are extroverts, and introverts, and not everyone needs or wants to go out as much as other people do. But I’m neither. I have no problem going out on my own terms, but when I’m invited and/or expected to go, it either skips my mind or I really don’t want to go. Maybe I’m just difficult, as a lot of my family (and friends) claim. I dunno.
Almost like Mr. Rum Tum Tugger: (portrayed here by John Partridge)