If anyone is curious as to how awesome homemade ice cream is, I can vouch for it. Sweet merciful Skittles, it is one hellzam of a treat.
The Dude and I used the ice cream maker from the '80s that his aunt passed on to him. It's cheesy looking and it does the job, with three different types of cream, a mess of sugar and two bags of ice. And chocolate and peanut butter.
And it was noisy. So of course we decided to make it at 11:00 at night. We felt justified in the face of the incessant opera singing we endure. Plus, whatever, it was a Saturday night. Heh. You know you're getting old when the idea of a bitchin' Saturday evening is staying in making homemade ice cream.
Problem is, I've been eating like a house cat, specifically like Smokey, which means often and holding out for the fattening and tasty things in life. I feel as though I'm some sort of bear getting ready for the winter. It's not too far off, actually. Last winter I hibernated so hardcore I left the house maybe twice a week. And I loved it.
I read this article about introversion the other day. I am the poster girl for introverts. Now, those who really know me get this about me. I like me time. I like holing up and avoiding all people for days. I love to socialize, but equally love to be very quiet and introspective for many hours afterwards. That's part of why I love to be home so much. It's a place to let my thoughts run their course, rather than having to put them on hold to talk to people.
And the funny thing is I really like people. I truly do. In fact, despite how angry I get over some terrible facets of stupidity in this world (Say Stephen Harper or pro-lifers or Glenn Beck), I still really think ultimately there's a lot of awesome people out there, and I want to hear from them.
I just like hearing from them in shorter bursts or on my own time. After too much socializing I zone out and stop responding to verbal stimuli. This is not an exaggeration. I do this all the time and I can't prevent it from happening ever. In school this was always very problematic as at no point in a school environment is any time ever given to any student to conduct their own private thoughts, because if you're not listening to the teacher you're supposed to be socializing at recess.
My mom had my hearing tested, wondering if I was going spontaneously deaf. Actually, my hearing is exemplary, almost too good. I'm highly sensitive to noises, especially ones I don't want to hear.
I spent many, many recesses alone for a good number of years. And I never felt very bad about it either. I have no recollections of feeling lonely. I loved wandering alone in the playground. I'd occasionally join some random group of friendly classmates, but mostly I kept to myself. Retrospectively, I think I was considered odd.
In fact, in grade five I had two good friends in school, which was a personal best for me. Then they both moved away over the summer. One might think for a normal child, this would cause some stress. To be honest, I can't recall ever having given it any thought as to how this might affect my life. I was bummed I wouldn't see them anymore, but I wasn't really concerned about the impact their absence might have on my school experience.
Grade six actually was the year I somehow joined the popular group of girls, girls who never really had talked to me much before. It just sort of happened and I'm not entirely sure how. I think I just started hanging around, and after awhile I was just a part of things. Looking back I see now there were a few attempts to pick on me, as girls do in sorting out the pecking order. I missed those social cues (I probably wasn't paying attention) and always reemerged back into the fold as if no attempt had been made to exclude me. Sometimes I chose not to spend time with them and would read a book at recess instead. I don't think they knew what to do with me.
By the time grade eight hit, I was making more of an effort to fit in. But I still couldn't stop mentally slamming the door shut on people when my social gauge was full. "Pay ATTENTION!" my friends would implore when I said I didn't know what was going on or what was being said. It probably was pretty exasperating. I'd frequently and randomly pipe up in conversations and ask to be filled in on what was just said. It's actually quite telling of the girls' decency that they didn't wring my neck.
I don't think this is a mental problem or issue of any kind. I think it's just the way I'm made. I'll probably be this way until I die. Actually, I could see myself dying due to me not paying attention in a crucial moment. It's actually why I don't drive. I think my taking involuntary mental breaks would cause mass car pileups. People like me have no business being on the road.
Ah, another long winding 3:00 a.m. entry. There's something to be said for being awake at this hour. It's deliciously quiet.