(no subject)

[elizabeth]

After a certain amount of social time -- of being what I think of as 'on' -- I can't focus. I can't think straight, I can't work coherently, and doing anything particularly taxing is twice as exhausting as it ordinarily would be, and half as productive. Apparently my subconscious mind, which is always twice as smart as the rest of me, had figured this out already, and I've formed a habit of retreating to a little used nook of the library or my room after classes and lectures and labs, and taking some time to, as Granny Weatherwax would say, get in sorts with myself again.

The problem is, that it's hard for me to leave that safe place, where I'm not dealing with people, dealing with things that rocket my adreneline levels up, because I feel like me when I'm there. But I can't stay there, because although that's where my work is, it's not where the work I have to get done is.

And I know how much I'm going to hurt when I leave. It's not going to be fun, and have I mentioned, I am the world's biggest emotional coward?

But I'm not productive, in the way I should be, conventionally, there. The essential tension of living as an introvert in an extrovert-centered world, plus the fun of being an avoidant person, plus the fact that I tend to procrastinate.

Now the very unfun part begins: turning the realisation into behaviour. Gah.

Reposted from LJ, 20 March 2009