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Where am I? Why am I?
Today I had the best collection of all the worst things for my introvert self.
I went to a party where I didn’t know most of the people who attended. The party was, of course, on Zoom, and I used my phone to join. This meant I couldn’t see everyone all at once, and I didn’t know how to hide my self view.
It was wonderful to be there, wonderful to acknowledge the birthday of a dear friend, and wonderful to listen and laugh as a bunch of really quick-thinking and funny people played an online version of something like Balderdash.
I stayed for an hour. Then I dropped a chat message to the host and Irish-exited right the hell out of there.
(I love the Irish exit. And I love the fact that technology makes it even easier. Just turn off the video and click “Leave.” Ah.)
Right after I shut down all the screens, I had a moment of mild panic. Who in the world am I? What do I do to get from this room to the next room? How do I human?
There is something fundamental about being in a room with other people that I need in order to recognize my own existence. I don’t need to talk. In fact, I usually don’t talk. Even so: the air that moves around someone’s unconscious gesture, the subtle breeze of multiple exhales, the massage of sound waves moving in a room while people talk — I need these…