I talk a lot about my intense dislike of the human population. Nothing personal, of course, to those that I choose to spend time with, but it is an overall description of my perception of society. I am selective in the company that I keep. I choose those who I feel are trustworthy and that I don’t have to act any other way than myself. I am the “what you see is what you get package”.
As a writer, I spend a great deal of time alone. Processing words, binge reading for the sake of research and contemplating the messiness of the world. So, it was odd to me that about a month ago, I felt the urge to connect. Connect with old friends, my tribe members, new individuals who seem interesting and the list goes on. I am not sure what has spawned this eagerness to interact with humans. Maybe it is simply my way of getting out of the turmoil that resides in my head. The battle that rages on as I develop characters that seemingly change their demeanor on a dime. Or, maybe it is watching my mother and her friends age. Watching their ability to connect with one another diminish. Whatever the reason, I am honoring the nudge.
Now, don’t get crazy, I still want to be in my pajamas by 8 (or sooner) and I space my outings, so I don’t get overstimulated by human companionship. But, I connect, nonetheless. I am making the effort. Not social media connecting, but face to face. Human to human. It gives me a hiatus from my writing. It gives me comfort that I have those individuals who don’t expect anything from me but a little conversation. No pretending that I am something that I am not. It is in this way, that I fill myself up, so when I do seek solitude in my writing, I am never really alone.