The Monday Chronicle

Yesterday, I wrote a bit about being an introvert. Shortly afterward, I saw a cartoon that explained introverts’ responses to an overabundance of social stimuli; disappearance. With just a few panels, the cartoonist illustrated how an introvert can behave like an extrovert but, unless there’s time spent recovering strength invested in engaging in an extrovert’s behavior, the introvert simply disappears. Where does he go? Inside himself, in seclusion. The introvert needs the fuel of solitude. My solitary time blogging is my way of replenishing that fuel, I think.

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My church responsibilities went off with only a few hitches yesterday. I stumbled occasionally as I read the script I wrote. In an ideal world, I would have memorized it, but I had neither the time nor the talent to do that, so I read it from several pages of 20-point type that still was not big enough to keep me from losing my place when I looked up at the audience. Oh, well, I was among friends who did not openly mock me for my missteps. The only other hitch was that I was not supposed to be moderator of the post Insight service conversation but, not seeing anyone else take on the role, I jumped in anyway. I thought someone would need to get the audience to sit and someone should circulate with a microphone so the audience could ask questions. So I did both. I did not engage as fully as a dedicated moderator, but I took on a role I was not asked to do. Perhaps someone else had been tasked to do that and I unintentionally stepped on toes. Or, perhaps I am not the only one who did not recall exactly how the post-service conversations go. All in all, though, it worked out just fine. In spite of my self-consciousness, I give myself a reasonably high score for yesterday’s church sessions.

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Yesterday afternoon, my IC and I went to look at an RV some friends recently bought. It’s a smallish van-based drivable RV. I sort of fell in love with it, but I doubt I’ll be buying one like it in the immediate future. My guess is that a fully-outfitted vehicle like theirs would command a very high price (especially in the context of John Swinburn’s limited solvency)  in today’s market in which RVs are in such extremely high demand. But if I were to win the lottery, I would include such a beauty on my list of things to buy. Oh, and some acreage with a huge barn to accommodate it when not in use. And, perhaps, contract “followers” who would follow the vehicle and would, when signaled, handle both set-up and take-down so I would not have to do the hard work associated with the RV lifestyle. I’m going out into the weeds, here, so I should return to the real world of wishes versus financial wherewithal. Such is life. I think I was born to filthy rich parents but was switched at birth and went home, instead, as the sixth child of an impoverished couple. I believe I inherited the greed gene from those rich biological parents; it did not come from the parents who reared me.

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I am off to Little Rock today to give my car its periodic spa treatment, i.e., fresh oil and a tire rotation. I could get the same treatment for it locally, but I feel that the Subaru dealer is more likely to inform me of any other issues they encounter. Plus, I like driving to Little Rock from time to time. It keeps my wanderlust and road-trip cravings fresh and potent. Later in the day, I hope to have certain unpleasant growths removed from my arms and hands and to have other itches and such examined and magically cured. Or, at least, treated with prescription ointments, salves, oils, and the like.

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I feel like writing much, much more, but today calls me to be fast and efficient, so I will cease this blather and move on toward a happy, successful, life-affirming day.

About John Swinburn

"Love not what you are but what you may become."― Miguel de Cervantes
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Please talk to me about what I've written. I get lonely when I'm the only one saying anything.

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