My Dad has always told me that I'm a "black and white" kind of person. I decide whether I love or hate something in a matter of minutes. He has often told me that things don't always have to be so extreme, that it's okay for some things to be "gray." For me, though, it's never really been a choice. I can't help it that my insides - for lack of a better word - react strongly when I encounter something or someone new. I just follow my instincts and, perhaps this is where I'm different from everyone else, voice nearly all of the opinions that come into my head.
My response to my Dad has been something along the lines of: "That's not true. I honestly have no idea how I feel about artichoke hearts. One bite I love them, the next bite I can't stand them. They are definitely in the gray area." Then, I would silently ponder what he had said, wondering if it was a serious character flaw or if it's just the way I'm programmed.
I know my Dad wasn't saying it to be critical or to make me question myself. That's not the kind of guy he is. I think he was just pointing something out to me and, being the extremist that I am, I would take it too far. Plus, he's not the only person to have said something like that to me. I actually get it quite a bit. After a few minutes of internal debate, I'd just file the issue in the "Things To Ponder When You Feel Like Soul Searching" part of my brain, which basically means I never thought about it until someone would bring it to my attention again.
Though I always heard what my Dad and everyone else was saying, and I have openly admitted that I am a "black and white" kind of person, I didn't really get it until now. It recently occurred to me that I don't really like anything. I mean, sure, I don't really love or hate street lamps. They're there, they're helpful when I need to see the street at night, but they don't warrant a strong opinion. It's when it comes to things that are important to me that I become a zealot: places, food, and people. As a wanderlust-stricken, former fat kid who considers exploring and eating her two major pastimes, I can understand my strong opinions regarding places and food.
The people part is where it gets tricky. After meeting someone, it takes me virtually no time to decide if I genuinely enjoy their company. If it is someone that I could, or do, hang out with regularly I skip liking them completely and go straight to love. And I don't mean I start saying "I love you" to new friends; that would be creepy and freak people out. I genuinely feel the emotion. I suppose the best way to put it is to say that I fall in love with people too fast. And if I don't fall in love with someone, I rarely hang out with him/her. So essentially, I am in love with everyone I spend time with. You can see why I am always such an emotional basket case. It takes a lot of feelings to love so many people so much.
I suppose the reason for this strange, personal, blabbing blog post is that a lot of my friends here are leaving soon. I couldn’t sleep tonight because I was thinking about how sad I’m going to be next month when every non-local friend I’ve made is gone. The rational side of my brain is saying, “You’ve only known these people for less than a month, Kel, pull yourself together.” But the sentimental part, the bigger and more influential part of me, can’t help but think about how much I am going to miss hanging out with all these people.
But this is what I came here for: to learn about myself and embrace change. These people are leaving because they’ve already done everything they came here to do. I’m just getting started. The fact that everybody is leaving is probably the best thing for me because it will force me out of the routine I seem to have gotten myself into. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t already looking forward to visiting these people in the States.
I still haven’t decided how I feel about the “black and white” quality in me. I love that I’m quick to love and decisive about things that matter. I love that I know what I like and what I don’t, and that it makes me who I am. But I hate that I often make bad decisions because I “shoot from the hip.” And I hate that I fall so hard, so fast because it breaks my heart when my friend calls to tell me she bought her ticket back to California… or when I realize there are no more dulce de leche alfajores in the fridge. (More on the amazingness of alfajores in my next post. Just know they are an epically delicious sweet treat here. I LOVE them and I’m not even ashamed of it… they’re that good.)
So am I going to try to change this extremist behavior of mine? I don’t really know. I love it. I hate it. I like it. I try not to think about it. I guess you could say that it’s one of the few things I’m keeping in the gray area.
