Why this name for my commentary?
A lot of my childhood and young adult memories contain some element of social awkwardness and a good amount of elective solitude.  It’s okay.  I’m not complaining, seeking pity, or fellowship in that experience.  I was in lots of academic clubs, band, church, but even when I was part of a hive of activity I felt like…(odd comparison, but work with me here) a bit of debris in a soda.  For a while it’s fun to ride the bubbles, but eventually you just want to get bumped to the edge of the glass and pulled out.  I’ve always been most comfortable reading a book in my sofa cushion fort, laying on my stomach in the grass gazing over the creek bank at the beasties living around the rocks at the bottom, climbing a tree, or just playing in the dirt.  My dirty little secret?  I’m an introvert.
I recently saw a facebook meme showing a puppy with its head under a towel, captioned, “I don’t want to adult today.”  At some point in our lives, most of us have had a job working with the public.  Whether it was a high school fast food job or a full fledged grown up career in food or retail management, dealing with the public is tough.  Every day is about putting on the good face.  Be interested and involved in their experience.  Field their (sometimes very aggressive) complaints.  Help.  Smile.  Be enthusiastic.  Although all outward appearances say ‘extrovert’, it’s a sham.  Making a living by existing in a constant shaken soda of other peoples emotion is exhausting.  I suppose this makes me a big fake.  An artificial extrovert.  Somehow, I don’t think I’m alone in this fraud.

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