I’m of a special breed…I’m an introverted chatterbox. Meaning, I can talk and talk and talk until you wish I had an off switch, but when it really comes down to it I’m a sufficiently shy individual. I’m able to unleash an outgoing side of me in front of people I know and am comfortable with, but when I’m around new people I tend to emulate the kid dancing awkwardly with only his upper body in the corner of the party. Unfortunately, I’m not one of those shy kids who accepts their isolationist tendencies and rocks it with a cluster of other introverts; I’m conscious of my shyness but I don’t own it. I really look up to, and perhaps even envy, people who are so naturally extroverted.
So in the tradition of cliche holiday sentiments I’ve created one big New Year’s resolution for myself: to become one of those ladies who is friends with their hair dresser or has existential conversations with the woman who does their nails. In other words, I want to become so overwhelmingly extroverted that you’re forced to be friends with me the second I walk into the room. I feel as if the majority of people aspire to reach this level of friendliness but in a melancholic trick of fate most people don’t really reach this state until old age. A twenty something year old is more likely to talk to a plant than a stranger at the mall while it’s almost a guarantee to see an eighty year old chatting it up with their grocery line neighbor . My theory behind this is originates from a kind of “f**k it attitude” that most people acquire once they descend into older age. There’s a clarity achieved about the validity of social norms and acceptable behaviors as you age. People let go of seemingly meaningless ideals and begin to say what they really mean or do what they want to do. So while most people will be wishing to rewind the clock of life on January 1st, 2017 I will be attempting to conjure the care free old lady I know I hold within me to become the type extroverted person I’ve so long admired.