The quiet and the loud

It’s a funny thing writing a blog, and having people know you write a blog, because for some reason they expect that because you leave your thoughts on a page that you’ll be a raging extrovert.

Because obviously your words are there for the world to see, surely that means you’re all for putting yourself out there. Someone who enjoys being surrounded by people, who get’s their energy from large groups and big shows of affection.

When in my experience, bloggers are often a quiet, introverted bunch. It’s almost as though we leave all the words we have on that page, and generally have only a handful left for anyone else.

For me, if I put the words here, then they’re gone. They’re processed, and I’ve no more need for them. I rarely read back over them, or ponder over the shape they’ll take, instead I just hope they come easily when I type. It’s as though they have a life of their own; flowing through the ends of my fingers onto the page.

Yet, in front of people I stammer and stumble over my words. I reach for them, knowing they’re there, somewhere, but often just out of reach. I find myself using sub-standard words for the sake of ease, just to keep things moving.

I struggle to keep my face from showing every emotion as it passes through; the words shaping my face into smiles and frowns as they leave my mouth. I will never play poker, and I’m working on learning to bite my tongue, quite literally. Apparently it makes your face more neutral, although I’m worried for the state of my tongue.

And yet, there are times when I have no choice. I have to try, I have to go way beyond where I’m comfortable.

Spending time away from the family recently for a few days for a work thing; breakfast, lunch and dinner all spent in a crowd. Quiet moments to find those missing words, to re-group and re-order them in my head, were few and far between, snatched late at night and early in the morning.

I’m sure that the words displayed on my face betrayed any sense of calm I was trying to project. I’m sure that others caught me unguarded; goodness only knows that they took each moment to mean, when in reality it was likely something else entirely.

But I’m learning not to worry about that so much. The thoughts of what others think, are just one se of thoughts too many.

Instead, I’m learning to find a calm, that hopefully flows not only through my fingers, but onto my face. I’m biting my tongue and hoping it helps. I’m trying to fake it till I make it.

Trying to find a balance in each day, of the quiet and the loud. Or something like that.