Not a Whovian

In most other ways I'm such a geek, but I've never, never been able to get into Dr Who (I think I've been asked to try every decade it's been on since the 70s). The latest attempt is with Capaldi, the new Who. I watched the first episode with my son and thought "okay, a little hokier than I would have expected, but maybe I can do this." But by the second episode I was bored about halfway through. Riddled with private jokes that pander to the long-time fans, filled with special effects that I thought were kinda lame in this day and age, and with a plot that made no sense (when he lands his Tardis on a battle-space-ship and is told to either help the Dalek against his will or be killed, Dr Who is allowed back into his Tardis to get help -- why didn't he just leave the ship? Oy), I got up to do laundry about halfway through and left it to my son. I give up.

I really think it's like a lot of shows and movies -- if you enjoyed it as a teen, you can still enjoy the corniness in later years. If not, it's hard to appreciate it starting in your forties, no matter how young-at-heart you are. I know -- I like lots of crap because I loved it as a kid :) But there is such better sci-fi out there -- or at least better, more clever geek-culture offerings -- in my honest opinion. So forgive me, fellow Comic-Con-ers, I just can't do it. But I'll fake it and still give Dalek cosplayers a thumbs-up. Maybe even knit my son an old-school Baker-esque scarf someday for fun while he sums up the best parts of each episode for me over a butterbeer. As long as I don't have to actually watch the show anymore. :)

UPDATE: January 2015
My son doesn't watch it anymore, either.

Oxford Comma Oxford Schmomma

On some silly George-Takei-directed message board about the Oxford Comma, I was enjoying the ridiculous debates about the "ands" and the redundant commas. I wrote: "People could always choose to write more clearly if there is the possibility of miscommunication — even if the thing you are trying to communicate is obvious, a serious point goes down the drain once people turn it into a grammar joke.

"For example, instead of: 'I had eggs, toast and orange juice', how about 'I had eggs with my toast and orange juice'? Or instead of 'we invited the strippers, JFK and Stalin', try 'we invited the strippers along with JFK and Stalin'."

Of course someone chimed in (as everyone is welcome to do — I always welcome an intelligent debate). The reply was: "So, just to avoid putting an extra comma, you should make your sentences more complicated? Got it."

A bit snarky, so I wrote: "Adding one or two words to uncomplicate a sentence complicates it for you? I am not for or against the Oxford comma; I am for clear and understandable communication of thoughts."

And if she writes back I want to reply (but I won't): "I think you're just grasping as silly reasons to try to be argumentative toward no real purpose. Or, if you prefer the less-complicated version: 'I think you're grasping, silly and argumentative.'" ;)

Accidental Extrovert

I think my friends tend to expect a lot of me. So I'm bound to disappoint. Because I have a secret: I am a desperately shy introvert.

I hide it so well. Party this weekend? Probably at Cheryl's house. Camping tip to plan? Cheryl will do it. Board member needed in the Mom's Club? Count on Cheryl. But every ounce of my energy goes into each of those activities, even if I don't do much. How do I know I am an introvert? Well, I have two Facebook friends who post articles about their introversion. I get annoyed when I read them. "She doesn't like to say 'yes' to get-togehers? Doesn't want to make plans? Needs a break after seeing us? How insulting! How wimpy! How boring! How ... me." Hmm! So I've been curious about my personality lately and here are the things I have found:

Please don't make plans with me more than a few days (preferably hours) in advance!
Okay, I know that is a lot to ask. And under many circumstances, impossible. But when someone tries to get me to commit to something, I kinda freak out a little. I feel like I have to sit in limbo until The Event and then and only then does my motor turn on again. Not exactly true, but that is how it feels. Calendar and clock watching ensues, my heart jumps every time I remember that The Event is coming up. How I cope: I try to accept the invitation no matter how much I dread it -- though an excuse to say "no" is never wasted. But if I am pressured after a while, it can turn on my friend. The constant pressure just pushes me away more and leads to alienation of that friend. I had to deal with that this week -- a slightly long-distance friend who wants to have more sleepovers between our two boys. Now I hate sleepovers. HATE. I dislike the idea of not being able to push someone else's kid out the door at the end of the day. I suffer through some of them because it's only fair. And sometimes you have to reciprocate. And I don't want to seem to reject someone else's child or become a one-sided sleepover mooch. But it is really difficult for me. I'd so much rather let the kids play during the day, then be able to return to my comfortable cocoon of a home, to my evening privacy, to my me-time.

I love my alone time with my son, to the point of becoming a hermit and alienating my own husband. My son is the one person in the world who I can spent all my time with - though we need some breaks from each other, too. When I was in my twenties I lived alone, with no friends or family nearby. I was lonely sometimes, but most of the time I really liked it. I remember thinking that it was time to think about starting a family (which I really wanted) and the image that came to mind was of me with a child in a tidy little house in some secluded Maine town. No husband in the picture, no big parties or friends around all the time. But I also need people in my life. I love my cousins and aunts and uncles and my Mother and, yes, even my brother. How I cope: I needed to find a best-of-both-worlds scenario. And most importantly, when I did have a child (and yes, I did fall in love and get married), I didn't want to turn him into an introvert. I wanted him to have a good, happy social life. So I joined clubs at got us together with other moms and kids. I made play dates, threw parties, made sure that he had kid time and I had adult time. But these gatherings were in short bursts with plenty of "rest" time in-between.

How do I explain this to my friends without sounding like an ass? Without sounding like authors of the articles posted by the introverts who angered and insulted and frustrated me on Facebook? I fight this introversion -- this shyness -- with every ounce of will I can muster. I say "yes" even though I want so badly to say "no". I probably drink to much in order to squelch my urge to flee. And once I am there -- once I am IN the situation -- I feel okay. It's the anticipation of the hijacking of my personal time that I fear the most, I think. I have some friends who are "easy" and never demand too much of my time and commitment. Our time together is laid back and relaxed and impulsive and there is little planning involved. But I have other friends who need to plan, need to spend more time (and sometimes, to me, once a week or twice a month is too much -- hey, I try!!), need to challenge me more. And it destroys me. And I resent them. And they feel it. And so it destroys our friendships.

Fellow introverts, do you feel me? How do you cope? What do you do? Please comment below and give us all some coping techniques. Or feel free to simply vent! Because if you're anything like me, you don't get to vent enough and end up arguing out loud in a room  by yourself a lot ;)

Walk the walk

“The world needs all kinds of minds.”

— Temple Grandin

I love that quote, don't you? Especially if you have a silly, quirky, march-to-the-beat-of-your-own-drum son like mine. Today I had to go pick up my 12-year-old after school (he had missed his bus) and when I texted to let him know I was outside, I watched as he came out the doors of his middle-school.

He was already smiling, looking around for my car. When he saw me, I got a bigger smile, a wave and then he sort of bounce-walked to my car, leaning forward and almost flapping his arms like wings a bit. Goofball :)

But then of course the mother/middle-schooler in me comes into play: Oh, he's being eccentric and silly! If the "cool" kids saw him, would they pick on him? Label him "weird"? Talk about him behind his back? Oh, god!

He got to the car, opened the back door and threw his backpack onto the backseat, then joined me up front. "Hi, Mom!"

"Hi, Hon! What was with the goofy walk to the car today?" I couldn't resist.

"Oh, I dunno, I just felt like it." He smiled and kinda laughed.

I decided to pursue it a bit further. "So how come you don't walk more like the boy coming out now?" The boy was probably a year or two older. Backpack over one shoulder. baggy jeans, scruffy hair, hoodie, sort of a frown — kind of a typical teenage boy, if you ask me. "It's like he assumes people are watching, and he wants to look cool." We both watched as the boy approached his mother's awaiting car.

And right before he got to her car he spat a big old gross, drooly loogie (and I am NOT going to "Google" the spelling of that word for fear of the images that might pop up on my screen) onto the sidewalk.

My son started cracking up! "Eww! Really, Mom? THAT's what you want me to be more like?? Oh, sure! I can do that!" :D

"Oh, that was classy! No, you're right, kiddo — do what makes you happy!"

Lesson learned!