I am an Extroverted Introvert, I’ve tested as an INFJ, or something like that. It’s not that I hate people, it’s just that I need to be alone for quite a while after interacting with them. Some people are very nice, kind and generous; the type who restore my faith in humanity. Then there are the ‘Mean people’, mean people suck, and they know who they are, happy assholes every last one of them; greedy, self-serving and loathe to show kindness to strangers. I am an empath so I cannot hate these types as I know how to ‘walk a mile’, but they are deserving of contempt. I’ve just had some interactions with a group of positive, forward thinking teens, none of who showed any signs of greed, selfishness or exclusivity. Hmm, exclusivity, I think I like that word.
As a novice writer I started this blog to help me find my voice, motivate me to write something readable every day, as apposed to jotting down quick writing exercises in a note book which no one will ever ever see or read. As an extrovert I am enjoying ‘putting it out there’ and I like having the ability to communicate like this, then interact with strangers via comments and such. But then, as an introvert, I soon realize that I’ve just ‘put it out there’, I have now opened up to complete strangers and this all makes me stop to ask myself; OMG, what have I done to myself this time?
My plans for this blog are to write daily, connect with other bloggers to read their tales, and share my tales of woe as well as glad tidings. I am coping with the aftermath of a Cancer/Surgery/Chemotherapy ordeal. Though that all ended six years ago, to this day I am still feeling the effects; I suffered from a temporary cognitive impairment, I have residual chronic pain, and I almost lost my dominant writing arm. I will tell all in the coming months.
As a result, my Prose is rusty, my wit has gone A.W.O.L. and all my metaphors stare at me from under my table, stone faced, motionless, unwilling to help.
My Rusty Prose 