I used to be askeered of people. I was a shy kid, and I still have “issues” about being known and revealing myself and being public. Maybe, growing up in a small upstate NY town, I interpreted being stared at in the grocery store (there were only about 7 Asian American families in our town of 25,000 people) as bad, negative, and scary. Maybe I’m simply an introvert if an introvert is someone who finds most people a huge expenditure of energy, instead of the extrovert who feeds off it and becomes more energized.
Now, as I like to say, I’m a charter member of Oversharers Anonymous. Evidence: I have this-here freaking BLOG, and the nerve to think people would be interested in my semi-informed opinion on public policy and the state of our union at MOMocrats, for pete’s sake. It’s typical WriterGirl Neurosis: like Emily Dickinson I’m here sewing up my verbiage into octos and quartos for distribution at some imagined future time, but perfectly happy to burrow into my hermitage and really only deal with tiny groups of people in classic introvert style. What is a writer but someone with fame-whore tendencies, something to say, who can’t be bothered to leave the house, and yet is incapable of silence?
Now, I’m askeered of Twitter. I’m shy but enjoy being bold with my words.