In black and white I read that I had passed the Art of Poetry with 68% - a B grade. I was relieved of course that the one part of the degree that I endlessly state I dreaded was finished but then I felt a little disappointed that I couldn't reach that extra 2%. A festive glass of port and I was more philosophical - I have to focus on the course I am on and not wonder what I could have done differently.
I have written before about being an introvert and at this time of the year it becomes a huge burden for me. The Christmas Meal for my work team was on Friday and, as always, I made excuses and avoided it. To a certain extent I was telling the truth because I did have things to do; just not anything pressing or time sensitive (as our team would put it). So I went home, got on with the chores, wrapped presents and then picked up the partner.
Last night, after visits from two sets of friends at our house to exchange gifts, gossip and grumblings, we were out to a work colleague’s home for a "drop in" evening event. This is a work colleague of my partners, not mine. I was walking into a room where my partner would be the only person I actually knew - it bothered me. But then I get worried and bother when we go to parties at a friend’s home! I blame this on the control freak in me - he likes to know what is supposed to happen, what time, what he should wear and what he should take "just in case". I tagged a "one hour limit" to our visit....my partner agreed.
So, through the rain and with a hand drawn map, we made our way across our town to a charming little cul de sac and a twinkling lit terraced house. The moment we entered (me following of course) the home of Louisa I felt my social muscles relaxing. It was warm, inviting and homely with an awful lot of style, laughter, conversation and tea-lights flickering around Christmas decorations. The Hostess was elegant, very smiley, an attractive woman in her fifties who after ten minutes of us being there announced that "everyone was here" and slipped off her gold sparkly heels and went around barefoot for the rest of the evening. We were introduced in a charming way that only someone who loves to entertain and does it alot can - we were even introduced to the lurcher dog, a tan coloured, athletic specimen called Jessie. She was shy, moving around the room taking in the smell, eyeing us and approaching slowly; she attached herself to me, lying at my feet and allowing me to rub her belly.
My partner sat next to a work colleague and her partner, Rhia and John. We bantered, or rather they did and I listened and laughed and commented when appropriate. The hostess floated between us, chatting laughing, storytelling introducing her partner Dave who was fun and had a face used to smiling. By the time she sat on the floor leaning with her elbow on my thigh and chatting I was relaxed. It was then she gently started to question me....
"Are you into sport?" The question was a natural one, just been introduced and starting to find common ground and subjects after talking about dogs for most of the evening and work events. I stumbled. I thought about mentioning about the gym, about my time training in martial arts, my running in the Portland 10 two years running....but decided no.
I mentioned a passing interest in rugby and the 2012 Olympics which seemed to kick of the conversation again. She was trying to be polite but my instant reaction was not to expose myself by talking about me. There were too many people, too much noise and it was too early. Strangely - once we were home I thought about my reluctance; we had stayed two hours and could have stayed a little longer. It's about me being an Introvert, not liking to reveal, preferring to hide, to slip along unnoticed; it's not about not achieving, it's about doing what you want to do without exposing your desire, your need to achieve.
It's something I have always done and the habit is now ingrained. When asked I wanted a "job" rather than shouting from the bottom of my soul that I wanted to tell stories, to hide in the shadows and craft outrageous tales, to write! Now when I see someone consumed by a passion I tell them not to hold back, never take second best, to fight and claw and holler and if they fall to get right back up and walk on - relentlessly!
That is, in part, what I have done. I have been relentless. It's always been there - the notebooks, the post-its and the scribbled ideas hidden away - kept where no-one would see. I may not shout my desire - stand up and bellow - but I have it, it's there, constantly whispering, pleading and poiting out its need. It's not getting louder but it's getting more forceful.
Maybe if she'd asked "what is your great passion in life" I might, maybe, could have, had the courage to have answered truthfully for once....I want to write, something good, something which makes people want to read to the end, to shake, shiver, smile, laugh and put it aside, feeling happy to have read it......
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