I don’t know why there are Type A personalities or Type B’s. I don’t know why opposites attract and if/or the attraction lasts. I just know that I write because it gives me a goal, a focus, a direction. It organizes my brain in such a way that my intense energy, my endless restlessness, becomes pleasingly productive.
And I need to feel productive. I have a ridiculous need to contribute, be useful, to make a difference.
Back in college I was Born Again, and not just a little Born Again, but an evangelical that spent more time on Bruin Walk preaching–mmhmm–and carrying my bible around that actually studying or sitting in class. I guess I thought Jesus would take my exams for me since I was doing His work. Unfortunately He didn’t always show up for all mid-terms and finals. But I did graduate and I’ve mellowed.
A little.
But perhaps not enough as my last blog prompted a number of emails and phone calls and I considered pulling it down because who wants to think that Jane with the shiny hair and white teeth has squirrels rolling nuts in her head? But then I got one email from my friend Latesha today (hope you don’t mind, Latesha) and she’s right. I’m not crazy. I just need to be busy. Busier. And as soon as I’m on deadline again, or as soon as I start my booktour which is just two weeks away, I’ll be craving quiet and beach time. Unfortunately then I’ll be so focused, and so busy and so pressured that I won’t have time to think or feel or do anything but put one foot in front of the other.
I need the gym. I love the bench press. I even love push ups. Because they all exhaust me, drain me of that wild craziness that is so uniquely me.
And yet I wonder about the Type B’s. I wish I could sit still longer, and I admire people who can really, truly relax. I thought for awhile I was learning to relax here in Hawaii but this trip isn’t about relaxing as much as it is about adjusting to a different lifestyle and a different pace and a world where I don’t have my circle of girl friends. There really aren’t many girls or women in the world here. There’s Ty and the surfers. And when Ty and I are alone, it’s enough, but when Ty goes to teach, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who I am.
Or maybe I do and it’s just a little bit overwhelming.
Just a little too Type A.
If there’s such a thing.
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