Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Needs More Cowbell

Ashley and Elijah: my oeni and oppa.
(Older sister and brother)

Introverts get a bad rap. We like to stay in and read on Friday nights and sometimes we forget to laugh when we’re supposed to. I’ve even heard it insinuated that introverts hate people. Of course we hate people. We hate that jerk who always has a date and that old lady with the handicap license plate that cuts us off in the left lane and then drives 30.

But the point is, we get a bad rap—and it’s not even for the right reason. The real reason introverts are annoying is because they never stop thinking. Sometimes they do things too, but mostly they sit around exhausting themselves and anyone foolish enough to hang around with their extensive thinking.

This is Lee, grabbing a drink of water at the Buddhist temple.
Quote of the day: "Wait. Did I just worship?"
This morning, for example. Excerpt:

Mmmmmmmorning. What time is it? Have I slept in too much? 8:30. Maybe I should be getting up earlier to do stuff. What stuff? I don’t know—stuff. But it’s vacation! Maybe—I’m arguing with myself. That must mean I’m awake enough to take a shower. Aha. Shower.

But perhaps my introversion is most debilitating when it comes to writing. This entire week I’ve had more free time than ever and more material to write about than ever and I have neglected to write much at all. But don’t worry—I’ve been thinking a lot about it! Excerpt:

I should write about Korean beaches. But it’s not that different than American beaches and I have nothing funny to say and whiiiine and why don’t you write about your pathetic chopstick skills instead? Oh that’d be interesting. Why not write about talking to a taxi driver for the first time or that one guy with a 1920s mobster hat and hit-man glasses who stared at you as you came out of the subway? I think I’ll go listen to K-pop music instead. I could write about that…after I think about it.

See what I mean? I bet you’re exhausted having just read this. Introversion is a disease. I have a fever and the only prescription is either more writing or more cowbell. Most probably both.

1 comment:

  1. I totally get the knowing-I-should-write-but-would-rather-think-about-it-instead feeling.