Introversion. Also, boys.

They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder. I hope they’re wrong, for my own sake. But that’s all I’ll say on that.
After a season of turning outward, of doing things externally, being more extroverted, the other end of the teeter totter is slowly dropping. My life of extremes is a balance, just over time. Perhaps it’s the colder weather heralding a time of hibernation. All I know is that my desires turn more than ever towards self-reflection, imagination, quiet activities and solitude. I must keep from getting too lazy, though. Physical therapy seems to be getting harder and I weaker, so I will do my best not to neglect my physical training completely in the face of a growing pile to to-be-read books, drawers of creative projects, vocal music, my guitar, meditation, Asian food, and a full queue on Netflix.
I’ve completely busted NaNoWriMo this year (again), but I have written more this month than usual, so that’s something. Though no excuse, the boy-drama in my life this past month has been very stressful. Not used to having to deal with the male race except on a professional (medical) level, re-entering the dating world was an exciting and shocking experience, and still is. Normal girls grow up with male friends near their own age and at some point down the line a few show interest in her as more than a friend. She might date a few guys and she learns through the years something of what to expect or at least a more specific view of what she wants. I didn’t have that, I had books, rats, an empty house and multiple diseases. So here I am, having learned innumerable lessons about life but few about love. But I’m learning and better late than never, I suppose.