The Musings of an Ixtrovert

“Well, I’m an N,” she explained.

We were sitting in R.A. class discussing different communication styles and personality types. We had all taken a survey giving us four letters that categorized us according to trends in our personalities. The only result I remembered from my survey was an “E” for “Extrovert.” However, as I read the list of qualities of an Introvert versus an Extrovert, I found that I identified with both personalities, though not wholly with either of them. I was curious as to where I fit in the spectrum.

Refusing to trust the results spit out by said survey, I’ve become more observant of myself over the past week or so. Here is the data I’ve gathered:
• I’m certainly not afraid of people, but I absolutely love my alone time.
• Often, I prefer playing the piano or guitar to myself over going out to social gatherings. But then again, I have nothing against strumming my guitar while socializing with a few close friends.
• My three favorite places in the world: the temple, the cemetery, the MOA (respectively). Nevertheless, I love sharing those places with one, maybe two people at a time who are important to me.
• I love intimate conversation, but heck, I can work the crowd at a big party.

Based on my findings, I’ve labeled myself an Ixtrovert rather than an Entrovert. I feel like the introversion is more dominant and I feel like I might know myself better than a silly quiz. I use my alone time to refresh and recharge, to do things that I love. I’m not against people, I love people, I love watching people and observing their peculiar behaviors. Truth be told, people fascinate me. But I guess, I can fascinate me too. The conversations in my head (as insane as that sounds) are also intriguing and that’s probably why I find so much joy in writing; I get to recount those conversations in a way that can include others. But therein lies the dilemma. Writing needs an audience just as much as talking needs an audience just as much as thinking needs an audience. Even if it’s your own self, it’s somebody.

I used to say, “I don’t need people.”
One time when I said that, my friend responded to me skeptically, raising an eyebrow. Suddenly, I felt horribly arrogant.
“Well, I mean, I need people, but I don’t need them, you know?”
Of course, my response made about as much sense as a goose wearing a tutu. What I was trying to explain was this idea that I am an introvert, but not so introverted that it turns me into a recluse. I’m extroverted, but I don’t require constant social interaction to feel alive. But maybe most people are like that. So maybe I’m not an Ixtrovert after all. Maybe I’m just me.

Distracted by Beauty

Some of my favorite works of Art (things that have touched me):



Salvador Dali "Meditative Rose"


"Thought of You" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OBk3ynRbtsw&feature=fvst

This was in the Art Museum last winter semester. I could sit in front of it for hours. (by Michael Scoggins)


This Is Just to Say
by William Carlos Williams

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold


"There Will Be Rest" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G7ppLOOCiY0

Chasing Love

(the work previously known as "True Love Bah Humbug")

[Preface to the following piece: There is a folder hidden on my computer entitled "Splatter." In this folder, you will find all of the things I have written when I just need to write, none of which I ever intend to publish. They are just thinking pieces. I rifle through this folder at times when I am trying to refind myself, to retrace myself. I was doing just that earlier this week and stumbled upon this piece I wrote last March, yes, last March. It made me laugh, so I thought I'd share. Also, I think that maybe I should start taking my own advice. Anyways, Enjoy!]


True love may or may not be a myth. I believed in it until I hit my teen years.
There was a boy named Terry in my middle school band class and he had the most beautiful eyes, stunning, penetrating blue. We even called him after them: “Sexy eyes.”
I thought that I liked him. We used to talk on AOL Instant Messenger for hours on end. One day, as I was looking at my friend Ashley’s profile, envying the words dedicated to her boyfriend, (“i <3 cody”), Terry suddenly sent me a message.
“Rachel”
“Yeah?”
“There’s something I want to ask you.” My heart jumped at the possibility of this request.
“Yeah?” The anxiety was rising and my fingers began shaking, my heart leapt and I started perspiring in areas where I didn’t even know I had pores.
“Do you want to go out with me?”
The question I waited for so long was now on the screen before my eyes. He loved me as I loved him. I would be able to add those beautiful words to my profile “i <3 terry.” We would eat lunch together and walk around campus holding hands. I would no longer be the depressive, chubby girl. I was going to have my very own boyfriend.
As I typed my response, I hesitated. I knew my parents would not approve, but who cared? This was my one chance at true happiness!
“Yes,” I typed. Three solid letters were all I needed and my fate with him was sealed. He quickly signed off and I awaited the next day at school.

Long story short, turns out it was his friend, just playing a stupid prank on me.
So I stopped believing in true love.

Years later, when I lived on my own in Mexico for five months, I only went on one date. I was very afraid of lusty Latinos. Trying to create casual conversation, Arturo, my gentleman of a date asked, “Do you believe in Prince Charming?”
At first, I didn’t understand his wording. The phrase “Principe Azul,” which directly translated means “Blue Prince,” didn’t make a whole lot of sense to me. After some questioning, and learning the proper translation of the words, I quickly responded, “No.”
He looked at me, bewildered.
“How can you not believe in a Prince Charming?”
“Well,” I responded coolly, my words slicing with feminist passion, “I don’t think there is just one man out there for me. I think that I could make it work with anyone.”
Baffled, he continued, “Do you believe in true love?”
“I suppose. I believe in God’s love, but I don’t believe that I have ever ‘truly loved’ anyone.”
Again he looked as though he was about to drop to his knees. Maybe it was just a symptom of the lusty Latino disease.

I’ve grown up a little since then and heck, I’ve had my heart broken a couple times. I’ve found men that I adore, but just aren’t right for me. And then I’ve found my dream god of a man, who doesn’t even pay me attention.
So, maybe true love exists, maybe it doesn’t. I won’t say that it exists for me, but I won’t deny it either. All I know is that I haven’t found my Hercules, and he probably won’t come crawling to me either. Love doesn’t work that way.
Even in the movies, a lot of effort goes into making that romance work. You have to find the perfect couple, with just the right chemistry. Physically, they are a good match, their speech patterns and body movements complement each other, and when it’s time for the kiss, the audience can feel the magic. In Hollywood, they create romance. I’m surprised to be saying this, but reality is no different.
If you want love, find it. If you want romance, chase it. If you have found the one of your dreams, embrace them. Don’t sit and wait for your Blue Prince or Sexy Eyes to roll around. You’ve got to fight for him.

Bruised Hearts

When you mess with my girls, you mess with me.

My best friends are the most amazing people and they don't deserve to be cast aside, disregarded, avoided, ignored, etc. In fact, what they deserve is praise, adoration, positive affirmation and love.

Do me a favor? When you look at people, look a little bit deeper. Beauty is so deep within people and sometimes we choose to ignore it. My girls are incredible girls and you loser boys are missing out by ignoring them.

No one deserves to be left alone, not nobody.

A Leaf in the River

Life is transitory. Things will and do change. This Thanksgiving, I worked. I was also away from my immediate family. Both firsts for me.

Yesterday my cousins, Kira and McKenzie, were playing with hole punchers that cut out shapes of people. Kira called for me to come look at their work, “Come see our timeline!” she said.
“A timeline? A timeline of what?”
McKenzie, embarrassed, hid it under the table and said, “It was Kira’s idea!”
She finally conceded to showing me and I read the title on top: “Timeline of Love.”

Later, when I came back to the table they had filled more of it in. The timeline started with the couple at Olive Garden, the boy sporting a blue “BYU Cougars” shirt. Next came their wedding, the girl dressed in white, “Look, I made her dress modest!” Kira explained. Next came the first baby, then “passing on.” The timeline was short, but it was precise. It was exactly the way that love works.

A cookie cutter life: The perfect BYU boy, the modest wedding dress, and the first baby.

Life is transitory. Things will and do change. That simple, perfect childhood dream changes and molds to fit who you need to become, who God needs you to become. You work on Thanksgiving. You gain a greater appreciation of family. You keep your eye out for the boy in the “BYU Cougars” shirt. You trust the changes and like a leaf flowing in the stream, you follow the flow of the river. After all, the Creator knows much better than you which current you should follow.

The Scriptures and The Savior

These are two HUGE lifesavers for me.

Everyday I am gaining a greater appreciation of what Christ really did for me.
I am so blessed.

Angels

I'm grateful for people who make me better everyday. For people who lift and inspire me, who make me set goals and expect me to stick to them. I'm grateful for people who are incredible exemplars of Christlike love. I can be like them.