Beauty in Silence

Lately my writing has been stifled by my own insecure nature, as well as my ever racing mind. I’ve found it hardest to write when my mind is in chaos, when the ideas are tumbling and bounding down the hills of my imagination. And then the words become jumbled, and I become frustrated- trying to pull weeds to get to the roses. What a tedious job it is! So once I write a sentence I find imperfections too distracting to continue; and too discouraging to keep on an otherwise a blank page. Perhaps the paper is at times to blame, too crisp I feel I will stain it with the wrong words.

So now here I am, writing, slowly and surely getting one word down at a time.

My mind can be so relentless; perhaps I feed it too often and it can’t digest before I’ve moved on to yet another idea, another word, another dream.

Lately, I’ve been surrounding myself with noise. Silence can be my worst enemy, in that it causes me to fill it with thoughts that become too loud. I choose to plug up my ears with the thoughts of others far too often it would seem. Yet I plead it’s for self-preservation.

Today though, I’ve chosen to write in silence- save for the fan whirring in the distance, the clatter of my fingers on the keys, and the occasional ‘meow’ from Scout. And sometimes, this is liberating. I can will myself to be anywhere my mind chooses. At this moment, I have chosen 19^th century England, the birthplace of Jane Austen as well as her fine literary characters. At times such as these I like to imagine myself as Miss Elizabeth Bennet; so passionate and fiery and so ready for an adventure.

I often wonder what it was like to live in such a time; where there was only silence and the every so often conversation. I imagine mankind was far better off with less distractions; I curse the day head phones were created- as it seems I can’t bear a moment without some sort of music or voice flowing in through my ears. Yet imagine, our ancestors knew not of such noise. How did they live?

Perhaps it was much the same state I am in at the present- at peace. It’s wonderful to feel at peace in silence- considering how rarely I experience it. It’s become a sort of chicken vs. the egg situation, in that I do not know which created the cycle- the silence or the noise? Was I running away from either, or both?

A part of me revels in distraction- not procrastination, mind you- namely the distraction from my thoughts, from the critic living inside my head. And I’ve learned that loud volumes can drown out the nonsense; as well as the pile up of information found in books. Often, have I wondered, if this is healthy. My gut tells me no, so does my mind. I suppose I should start listening.

So today, I established a goal- to embrace the bore of silence. Rather than run from my thoughts, I will embrace them on a more frequent level- with openness of mind. Yet I also would like to imagine more- save from the anxious scenarios I put myself through each and every day. No, I would like to imagine myself in peace, as I am doing today. And it’s a real peace, one tangible and full of the things I love and admire.

Maybe I need to take a lesson from Scout- she manages just fine in her own little world.

Isn’t that right, Scout?

“Meeoooww.”

I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, Scout.

I've now noticed that this particular post is just more or less my rambling thoughts, with no real string tying them together. I promise to deliver next time I sit down at my keyboard...

But regardless, Scout and I wish you a  

Happy Reading.

A Magnified Look at Introversion

Quite honestly, we are not all that different from you.
In fact, you might know of some of us.
We could be your next door neighbor, your husband, your wife, your child sleeping in the other room, your teacher, best friend-
We could even be
You.

Introversion is nothing new to our society, yet I suppose over the years we have wanted diagnoses- a name, if you will, so we can feel like individuals, unique, different. Or some of us just want to understand our motives and behaviors, striving to acquaint ourselves with our own foreign skin. Today we have a limitless supply to read, describing all of our various personality types. They go into depth as to our motives, desires, pet peeves, and worst flaws.
Given, much of this has to read with a grain of salt because no one wants to be summarized in a rinky dink article found online. Yet it's interesting, really, to read why certain people behave in certain manners. Personally it's comforting to read these articles that are taken from a basic factual POV, considering my brain works in hyper drive and spans a realm of emotions that can at times cloud basic logic.

This article stands to clear up the subject of the mysterious and illusive introvert. Who really are they?

For starters: My name is McKenzie and I am an introvert.

The basic definition of an Introvert is a person who's energy comes from being alone, or someone who finds it draining to be around other people for lengthy periods of time. This can be for any number of reasons- some feel as if they give of themselves far too much when others are around, that they need to recharge. Others simply find solace in the caves of their mind, that delving outside of that cave requires much energy, and forethought.

As an introvert myself, I find people draining- spending time with people, talking to people, sitting by people. thinking about people, worrying about people. People. Are. Exhausting.

That being said, I would like to clear up a few common misconceptions regarding introversion, and its fan-base:

1. Introverts are Shy.

No! Shy people are shy. Introverted people, are well introverted. Most of their "socializing" takes place inside their own heads. And once an introvert has reached a certain point- burnout takes place. This can come in a few forms, i.e shutting down, becoming irritable, etc.
Introverts may also be taken as shy due to their wallflower nature. Most are more observant, and would rather watch socialization, than participate in it. Yet this isn't always the case, some introverts come across as extroverts due to their friendly nature. Don't let them fool you though- they need a break sometimes!

2. Introverts Hate People.

Okay yes, some introverts may hate people, yet this can be said in regards to the general population. Being an introvert doesn't automatically put you in a category labeled "stay away from us, we will bite you". Most introverts love people. I for one love people. Yes, they drive me crazy, yes they are tiring- but yes, I would do anything for them. Sometimes my mind is far too loud that I can't take the noise of others.
Many times an introvert may either turn down, or even cancel, plans with others- yet fear not! It's not you- usually. It's them! They need their ME time- which is not to put it too bluntly or sound too selfish. It's not something they're proud of, but spending time with others requires a lot of forethought, and preparation and at times they don't have the energy for it.
Yet remember, we love you! And keep inviting us- maybe one day we will build up the courage, and energy.

3. Introverts Need to Become Extroverts

Perhaps the most offensive thing you can exude to an introvert, is that something is wrong with them. We notice the difference, yet when has different been bad? I mean isn't that why we have Neapolitan ice cream?
Introversion is not a flaw, just the same as extroversion isn't either. Whereas extroverts gain their energy through people and socializing, introverts gain it through alone time- who's to say which is the right way? Each individual must be treated and cared for in a specific way. Introversion is not a sign of underdevelopment, rather it's just another distinction that creates diversity in the human race.

So bring your fellow introvert a nice cozy blanket, a couple books, a couple cats, call in takeout, and turn on some Netflix- and you have a loyal friend for life. Just don't talk too much. And be mindful when they're speaking, it might actually be something intuitive. They usually prefer to listen, but sometimes, in the right circumstance, you can't get them to shut up.

And you if would like to learn more about yourself, take the Meyer-Briggs Personality quiz- found on the right under "Featured Links".

"Quiet people have the loudest minds."- Stephen King

So please listen to these quiet people, and be patient- you might learn something.

This is just one in a series that will delve more into the psychological world, so I hope you're all perched on the edge of your seat!

And until next time,

Appreciate your local introvert!

Happy Reading!

"Viewer Disrection Advised"

I'm an only child.

And that's just one of my "Viewer Discretion Advised".

"Frequently talks to herself."
"Was partially homeschooled, yet is full time awkward."
"Is prone to staring."
"No filter."
"Awkward dances when provoked."
"Becomes emotionally attached to food, and inanimate objects."
"Likes her cat more than you."
"Will pull out a book in social settings."

Growing up I felt like the most fortunate girl alive. I had my parents undivided attention, and I had a plethora of alone time. In an instant I could be transported to whichever world I chose, and I could create grand adventures all in the space of my head. It was the only life I ever knew, that constant faraway glance of whimsy, that yearning for something more. That ache for a glorious quest, yet also the pull and comfort of my own little world.

So as I got older I wanted for nothing. I had
enough food to eat, clothes to wear, a beautiful roof over my head, and parents that provided me all they could and more. And I was convinced that all I needed was myself, and the little family we had. And for a time it was enough. I went to school, begrudgingly, yet I persuaded myself to enjoy it, all but the social interaction. I delved into my studies and allowed the promise of new knowledge to wake me up each and every morning. Yet when I walked through the front door of my home, only then did I ever feel completely safe, and at ease in my skin.

No longer did I have to suffer through the small talk all elementary and middle schoolers have in common. No longer did I have to pretend I belonged in the same world as my peers.

I liked to pretend I wasn't from this world, because pretending was all I had. I had my head to play with, make up games with, and run around with. I had delved so far into myself that I never learned how to need others, so I relished in that feeling of solus.

Yet as life kept moving, and speeding up, and I kept growing in mind and body obstacles were thrown my way that I felt all too challenging to handle. My mind, once my friend and ally, was now my enemy. It kept me up at night, and filled me with wracks of sobs. It no longer fed me adventures, yet ravaged me with doubts and anxieties. And I learned the true meaning behind the world "alone", because to me it was always such a wonderful word.

It's a wonder how it all happened. I look back today as my fingers fly over my keyboard and a million images come to mind. Late night talks with my Mother and Father, incessant shushing to my brain, and finally the acceptance that perhaps I wasn't built to be completely alone. That perhaps the life that I had conjured in my mind could someday, maybe, be real. Those adventures could be real, and the girl I imagined myself to be, might be a person I could become.

So I did it. I really, honestly did it. I learned the proper way to be alone. And I participated in what was happening outside my mind.

And I found siblings. And I extended my small family. And they proved to be willing to support me every step of the way. They silenced my mind when they knew it wasn't feeding me good thoughts, and I opened up to them in time.

I learned how dangerous I was living, how on the edge of something very bad was I walking. The walls of protection I had put up to shade me from the outside world, also kept out all the good. What I wasn't willing to admit was how much I needed people. They weren't all bad. Some were actually quite good, great even. They were like the characters in all the books I had read, yet better because they were real, so their story continued on and on, and I could actually be a part of it.

I suppose that was all I ever really wanted, to be a part of someone's story. And for them to be a part of mine.

So now I am no longer the only inhabitant of my world. There are many residents, and we have done fantastic things, and we've lived. And we've all found a place that feels like home.

And I hope all of you will as well. And if you already have- kudos!

That's the first time I've ever used the word "kudos" before. Not too sure if it will happen again, in fact.

All the same, I wish you all a

Happy Reading, until next time.

When Words Fail

This case of writer’s block has been worse than the times before.

Words

Are

Not

Working

I

Feel

Broken

When I’m not able to form words- eloquent, beautiful words, I feel as if I’m lost. And alone.

And I start doing weird things.

And then I start taking far too many selfies.

And then I start eating more.

Sleeping more.

And then I somehow find the right words.

Yet not this time. This case has proved to be far more overwhelming, as well as distressing. A part of me is missing. My closest friends, my words, are gone.

And although I write this, and the words are coming slower, and my frustration is growing, I feel like I might not be far off from where I yearn to be. And I yearn for the little voices inside my head, whisking me away to faraway lands, and keeping me company in my solace. Yet now all I hear is silence. I hear silence, as well as worries. I hear silence swimming in an ocean of anxieties. I hear silence. Silence. Silence. And silence is deafening.

So to fill this silence I’ve found other words to fill my head. That of a man named Aaron Mahnke, and his historical podcast named LORE. Although history of any kind has filled me with wonder all my years, I am understandable that this isn’t always the case with many people. History class was a dreadful hour, and images are conjured up of those ancient teachers with their glasses perching precariously low on noses as they assign page after page of mundane reading material.

I had no such teacher. Rather I was my history teacher, as I was homeschooled from eighth grade onward. The material was given me, as well as assignments yet it my own choice as to what I extensively studied and which I furthered my learning over. I know of others that have taken this time for granted, yet I was never one of them. I furthered my learning hour with thorough research of strange and unusual topics. I wanted the history unfound in history textbooks.

I wanted the truth.

And so I read and I read, and I read some more until I was blue in the face with historical satires, numerous numbers I never remembered, and facts I strived to maintain through my years. Sadly, I lost much of the material I had stored in my brain, yet recently I was given the opportunity to get it back.

And there you have LORE.

The word “Lore” is of Germanic origin- ‘Lehre’, relating to the Dutch word “Leer”- meaning “Learn”.  It’s a word not often used in reference to typical learning today, as it has been assigned special meaning in society to the learning of mythical, or otherworldly study. And the LORE podcast delivers on both accounts.

LORE is a podcast created by the author Aaron Mahnke. And when you visit the LORE website*, the following words are used to describe this unique creation:

“Our fears have roots. Lore exposes the darker side of history, exploring the creatures, people, and places of our wildest nightmares.

Because sometime the truth is more frightening than fiction.”

Lore is a biweekly Podcast, with a theme centered around the unexplainable. Yet at times the root of the seemingly unexplainable can be easily explained, it’s man that complicates the very fabric of humanity. We strive for answers, and in this quest we are at times left with more questions and more confusion.

I fell in love with this Podcast right away. I was drawn to the dark premise, and the history I used to delve into as a youngster. Many of the myths we are so easy to accept as mere fiction, were based on actual lives and situations. Calling to mind the LORE tagline that “the truth is more frightening than fiction”. You start asking yourself questions: “How far do humans go until they lose all humanity?” And “how far would I go?”

I’m sure this isn’t the last I’ll be expressing my deep admiration, so take my word for it now. Yet also remember, Viewers Discretion Advised! Sometimes history and the mistakes of our ancestors can be hard to swallow, so make wise decisions as to what your listening to, and who also is listening with you.

It’s taken me two days to write this, and I’m finally at a satisfactory conclusion.

So why don’t I wrap this up until I start to ruin it with my incessant rambling.

Cheerio everyone!

This is the first time I’ve ever said ‘Cheerio’ in my life, and meant it! It felt good!

Okay, I promise I’m done.

Happy Reading

And Listening Everyone.

*You can find the link to LORE on the right hand side of this blog page. Enjoy!

A Look at Escapism

My childhood was riddled with different forms of escaping; whether in the physical (taking leave from a conversation, hiding in my closet with a flashlight, hiding anywhere with a flashlight really.) or mental sense (books, music, the torture chamber of my mind). I've from an early age avoided reality whenever I could, or whenever it was acceptable. I felt like an outcast among my peers- a foreigner, a Brit among the Scots- and through my short existence I've often wondered why there was such a difference between us.

This yearning I have to understand the world, began with myself. I was convinced that if I were to crack the case of the universe, I would have to start with me. Yet, who was I? Why did I enjoy the company of books to people? Why am I so slow to speak, yet so quick to write? Do all people have this vast universe living in their mind, this war conspiring to destroy them?

And then these questions inspired even more questions:

Do we make our dreams, or do our dreams make us?
How does our body know when to cry, and when to laugh?
Why do happy songs make us happy? Yet sad songs, essentially make us sad? Who's to say what is happy, anyway? Does it mean anything significant that I enjoy sad songs, to happy ones?
Do all people ask such questions?

And so I searched for answers to my questions, and the source for my ponderings. I spent nights thinking, and days thinking, and showers thinking, which spilled over into every single moment of every day thinking. I would observe as everyone around me interacted with one another, while I was be occupied inside my own head.
What was I missing?

It was starring me in the face. It sat next to me on the couch, walked with me at school, held me at night, and woke me up in the morning. What have I been missing my entire life?

And then it hit me.

Companionship.

Growing up an only child I never gave my loneliness a second thought. It was my constant companion, and I found boundless happiness in the one-sided conversations I had with myself, in my ever present head. It was all I had, and it was all I knew existed, and that's why I never gave it much thought.

Now, I know this is not the entire story. I am not who I am today merely because I grew up without siblings, and because I found extreme comfort away from human beings and human interactions. I know that it's so much more complex, and far too personal of a thing to rant about online, yet could I be onto something?

I often wonder whether my lack of growing up without companions contributed to the many times I yearned for escape.

One definition of loneliness is: "standing apart; isolated". I've stood apart my entire life, I thought this was normal or expected. Perhaps I could have stood with all the others, I could have gained relationships, yet I didn't, and so I stood alone in my journey.

One definition of escape is: "to slip away; fade". In times where I've felt like I was losing myself, meaning I felt heavy from the world around me, all I needed to do was escape for a little while. Escaping reminds me of who I am, and who I aim to be. I took pleasure in standing apart from the pack, for it was in these instances that I truly understood who I was. It allowed me to leave, without ever moving.

Escapism is often used as a tactic when unhappy with reality. Although I'm not unhappy in my life, I wonder why I feel the need to live inside my mind. Perhaps it was due to my loneliness that I grabbed at something to stay afloat. While I felt like an outcast, I could escape to the world of my choosing, where I wasn't a stranger. And this was how I lived, and how I still live.

Although I've made progress with acclimating myself to the real world, I still have times of burnout. I wear out easy, and need to recharge. Yet it's nice to know that the life outside my head, can be just as nice as the one inside it. And it's nice to know that the people I have surrounding me in life are accepting of the times I might run away- and are determined to escape with me. It's sometimes not a very inviting place that I might escape to, as it was when I was a child.

And so I've learned that participation in life is mandatory, as much as I fight it.

I've learned that the right people no longer allow me to stand alone, yet keep me company at a distance.

And I've learned that escaping is also mandatory, just as long as you come back.

Living is overwhelming, even when you do it correctly. So read that book, watch that movie, and listen, listen, listen to that song- do whatever you need to do to keep participating.

(Too bad we no longer get Participation badges once out of school, I feel like I've finally earned mine.)

We shall end it with a selfie, and call it night.

Happy reading, everyone!

Making Your Acquaintance

How are we to have these first introductions?

Am I to talk and talk and talk, and you to merely listen? Suppose you knew the circumstances and clicked all the same. Suppose I should no longer ramble on and we shall begin our proper beginning.

Hello there. How are you? Feeling well? Are you staying warm? Or cool? Are you happy? Why? Why not? I myself am very happy in this moment, for beginnings are usually of a more jubilant nature than endings. I look forward to finding a happy ending in my life, yet I suppose you shall know of it. It's a sad thing-to think I may never hear of yours.

My name? Have I not said? Well how silly of me!

My name is McKenzie, and it's wonderful to make your acquaintance. Or rather is it wonderful of YOU to make MY acquaintance?

I'm sorry to confuse you any further, yet I'm not the "Scout" in this scenario, and I anticipate Scout won't be writing anytime soon, unless she is harbouring some sort of secret I don't know about. And if this were the case then we would have much bigger issues to sort through. Such as, how did Scout learn to read and write? And can I somehow make money off her new talents? Did she fall into a vat of slimy green goo, turning her into some sort of mutant, and even more important- what will her superhero name be? These days Scout only has two things on her mind- sink her teeth into every one of my book covers and sleep. Yet she won over my heart with a single pur. (Pssst, Scout is a cat. Incase, you didn't surmise this from my clever wordplay. Yet isn't that the job of a writer? To create magic from the ordinary? To take a simple observation and write a sonnet?)
But yes, you guessed it. I'm the "Curly. It springs from the pounds of curly hair that have sprouted from my head since the day of my birth. It's a constant in my life, and I like constants. I can wake up every single day and know that my hair will be just as a much of a mess as it was the day before. Just the same, I can wake up everyday and look in the mirror and see two blue eyes staring back at me. It's a comfort to know that some things in life don't change.
Yet some change isn't too bad, just as long as I know of it and I have created it. (No, I do not have control issues, and don't you say that ever again!)
Change and I have a love, hate relationship. Or rather we have a spy vs. spy relationship. Neither one of us can trust the other, constantly going behind each other's back to one up the other. I don't know who's winning.
Scout doesn't share in this game. Scout's perfectly happy at all times, very much unlike any feline I've known, and her only concern is getting comfortable enough to fall asleep 5 times a day. I amusedly watch her features squish together with calculation. Yet just as soon as she has found her spot, she's out like a light- snoring.
I, on the other hand, sleep rather poorly. It's the falling asleep that's a struggle. My brain has had all day to worry about mundane things, yet it chooses 11 o'clock at night to finally settle down and fix the world's problems. Give me some time and I'll figure out who really killed J.F.K, or maybe how we can fix the Star Wars prequels. (We all know Jar Jar Binks has to die.)
So yeah, I don't like change, I don't sleep well, I own a cat...what more do y'all need to know?
Oh, I live in Kansas. That's...interesting?
Honestly, it's a little weird for me to talk about myself. I would much rather listen to what others have to say, being someone who always took on more of an observational role. Yes, I was (am) that odd little kid that used to stare at you a lot. I was trying to understand you is all, and plot world domination. I like to think my staring days are over, yet no. I don't apologize for it anymore, the world is a fascinating place and I wish to understand it. And if that means making a couple people feel uncomfortable then so be it.
So from an early age I would make up these stories about people I saw at school, walked past on the street, or saw flying by on the road. It was overwhelming to think that each and everyone of these people had a life, a family, a story. I wanted to know all of it, so I created it on my own.
Writing comes naturally to me. I don't say this with confidence. I say this with resolute fact. I love words and they sprout from my brain with ease, whether or not they are interesting, witty, or at all understandable is still unknown. So this little blog I've dedicated to the act of persuasion. To persuade myself that maybe one day-ONE DAY- I can reach a level of satisfaction with my writing. Maybe even a level of satisfaction with myself, too.

Scout and I are on a quest of discovery. A discovery of life, literature, and the pursuit of the perfect song. I have this dream of reading all the books on my bookshelf, accidently finding an unpublished novel by Jane Austen, ordering everything off the Starbucks menu, and not adding extra sugar to any of it, eventually sitting down and watching every early Doctor Who episode, and learning how to bake my own graham crackers.
So it's my hope that I will remember to document all of it, just as long as I'm not doing that little ole thing some people like to call 'living' in 'reality'. It doesn't happen very often, so it shouldn't be of concern.

Scout is in need of food, I am in need of hot tea, and my laptop is in need of rest.

This is McKenzie Porter, signing off. And until next time:

Happy Reading!