Sorry I can't hang out today...

...I have to go sit in my apartment by myself.

Today's post is about introverts.

Wait.  Come back.  It will be interesting, I swear.  And not some rant about how introverts are somehow better than extroverts.

For those of you who have not actually met me, I am an introvert.  I was forced a little out of my introverted bubble as a child because my mother recognized that if I was left to my own devices, I would become a barely-functioning hermit.  However, being forced to interact socially with others does not make an introvert an extrovert.  It's part of who we are.  It doesn't change.

Now, I have two family members that are incredibly gifted extroverts.  Seriously, my mother and sister are the lives of any party lucky enough to have them.  They thrive on group settings and love being around tons of people.  Growing up, I would watch them floating around like social butterflies and wonder to myself why I couldn't do that.  My idea of fun was sitting at home by myself with a book.  At large parties, I would find a pretense to wander away to another area of the house and hide with a book (do you see a pattern?).  If hiding was not an option, I hovered nervously on the outskirts of groups, occasionally engaging in conversations with one or two people who wandered near me.  The second a conversation group got big, I went silent, paralyzed by the stress of too many people.

This is too many people.

I am older now.  I have practiced being social.  I have gotten better at interacting with others (or I sincerely hope I have).  And I am now comfortable enough to say I am an introvert if anyone asks.  But the reactions I get to this statement vary wildly, so I would like to clear up some misconceptions.

"Introverts do not like other people" - Not true.  In fact, I would say that I like most people I meet.  I just don't always know how to communicate well with them.  For me, communicating with strangers makes me nervous.  When I get nervous, one of two things happens.  1) I go utterly silent, listening to what they say, but giving no responses while I stare at them in wide-eyed terror like a deer caught in headlights.  Or my dog caught with a stolen meatball.  Or 2) I start talking to fill the silence and don't stop, increasing in volume and reaching to more and more uncomfortable topics in a desperate effort to find something interesting to say.  It took me years to master the art of small talk, of casual conversation, and it is still something I constantly have to practice.  Now, I often enjoy conversations I have with people I have just met, but there is the constant need for focus on what I am doing and saying so that I don't revert to 1 or 2.  Being able to converse normally takes a lot of exertion for me.  In many cases, it is definitely worth it, but it is still draining.

As a side note, when I mess up (and I do sometimes) and say something stupid or awkward or respond to something the other person said in a strange or wrong way, I know it.  It sticks with me.  I will go to bed that night beating myself up, convinced the other person thinks I am either rude or an idiot, and going over all the things I should have said.  Most socially awkward people are extremely aware that we are socially awkward.  We are working on it.  Please, be patient with us.  Social graces don't always come easily.

 At least I don't try communicating like this any more.

"Introverts don't like to talk" - Ask my husband.  Ask my family.  Ask my friends.  I love to talk.  Seriously, once I get going it's more of a trick to make me stop.  What introverts find difficult is talking with someone they don't know or talking about a topic they either don't know about or don't care about.  Talking with strangers is intimidating because we don't know what they will disagree with, what will offend them, what topics are alright and what are not.  I don't want to join a conversation on movies with strangers because I'm imagining the horror I will feel if I start bashing Twilight and find out that the other members of the group all loved the adventures of sparkle-pire and vapid-girl.  I am just picturing all the stupid things I could say.  It gets a little scary.  And if it is a topic I know nothing about, I don't want to contribute because I don't want to sound stupid.  Being respected for intelligence is a big deal to most introverts I know.  We spend so much time reading or focusing on our own thoughts that we want to feel it is time well spent, that it is making us more intelligent.  If I walk into a conversation and try to say something and find out I am wrong or I said something foolish, that embarrassment will stick.  The others in the group may laugh it off, but I will believe they all think I'm an idiot.  But get me going about what I'm reading or watching or learning, and I am in.  I will talk to you all night.  Introverts love to share knowledge, it just needs to be about something we actually know.

For instance, this movie taught me that Bella blinks 30 times more often than a normal human.

"Introverts hate parties/social gatherings" - Actually, I get incredibly excited when I get invited to a party.  I love parties.  But my preparation for it is different than an extrovert's would be.  Before agreeing to go to a party, I have to check with my friends to find out who is going that can, essentially, be my "safe zone".  I need to know that I won't be alone with a group of strangers.  I need to make sure that I will have someone there I feel safe talking to.  It's not that I don't plan on meeting anyone.  I do.  I just need someone I can retreat with if it starts getting too overwhelming, if I start to panic or feel awkward.  I can only lurk around bookshelves for so long. 

The other difference is the fallout from parties.  After a night of being social, I need at least a full day of not being social at all so I can recover.  Even if I had a great time at the party, it took a substantial amount of energy and mental exertion for me to be there.  I will be exhausted afterward and I need time alone to recuperate.  Again, this exhaustion DOES NOT MEAN I HAD A BAD TIME.  It is like...I don't know, a really good workout.  You may have enjoyed it, but your body still needs to recover afterwards.  It will be tired.  It will need food and water.  You need to take care of it or it can't give the same level of performance next time.  If I don't get time alone after social interactions, I don't recharge.  That means that the next social gathering I attend will have me drained and stressed from the last time.  I will have less patience with those around me.  I will over react to small issues.  I will very likely be in a bad mood.

Seriously, I can't stop making the angry face.

I love being with people, but I need breaks.

"Introverts like being alone" - Ok, yes.  That's true.  Although, even more than that, we are comfortable being alone.  When alone, we don't need to perform.  We don't need to read the social atmosphere, figure out the moods of those around us, and do our best to determine how to respond.  When I observe extroverts, it looks like they do this all automatically.  That may not be true, but I would say that it comes more easily to them.  I have to be constantly focused on all these facets of my social interactions and it gets exhausting.  Alone, I get to disappear into my thoughts.  I love spending uninterrupted time just thinking over ideas, scenarios, books, and whatever else pops into my head.  Some people think that sounds boring, but I love it.  I don't hang out alone because no one will hang out with me.  Sometimes, I would just rather be in my own head than dealing with the other things around me.

Indeed.

"Introverts avoid being the center of attention" - I would say this varies with the person.  I am an introvert and I loved being in plays.  I loved singing for audiences.  I was fine with attention.  It was just easiest for me to have attention in those settings because IT WAS SCRIPTED.  I didn't have to come up with anything to say on my own.  I didn't need to worry about my interactions with others because our roles were spelled out.  It's performing.  It's academic.  It's memory.  That, I can handle.

"Introverts are smarter than extroverts" - Yeah, that's not true.  It's just not.  There are individuals in both groups that are wildly intelligent.  I think the reason people associate intelligence or higher test scores with introverts is that introverts spend more time alone thinking.  We mull over ideas.  I read books on philosophy and history and social events in my spare time because I find them interesting.  A lot of my time and energy is spent doing things that make academics easier for me.  Extroverts spend a lot of time and energy being with other people, pursuing connections and relationships.  It's not a matter of intelligence, it's a matter of how time is spent for that individual.

I'm staying in!  Time to get through the complete works of Shakespeare!

Introverts and extroverts both need to be able to understand and get along with each other because we need each other.  Introverts can help their extroverted friends to be comfortable in silence, in stillness.  They can demonstrate the importance and beauty of introspection and reflection.  Extroverts keep their introverted friends from closing themselves off, from ignoring the importance of relationships and connections.  They make sure that we don't live our whole lives alone or in our heads.  So, from an introvert, thank you to all my extroverted friends and family for your love, encouragement, and patience.  If you ever need someone to listen, I'm around.  Or to engage in a conversation about any topic that's been flitting around in my head.  I'm there.

You want to discuss our favorite Firefly characters?  Hello, best friend.

Please don't get me flowers...

...at least, not just because it's Valentine's Day.

Ah, Valentine's Day.  It's so polarizing.  For people happily in love, apparently it's a wonderful, romantic day.  For single folks, apparently it's sheer torture.  You know what I think?  I think regardless of your romantic status, Valentine's Day is meaningless.  Now, before the Valentine's-lovers attack with overpriced chocolate, let me explain.

I hate high-pressure days in relationships.  I get stressed out even on my anniversary.  I get stressed on birthdays.  I am just really bad at producing romance on command and I am terrible at finding good gifts.  My poor husband. For real.

I stand by this gift decision.

Even though I am terrible at the high-pressure relationship days, I see the point.  Of course I know why I celebrate his birthday.  I know why it is good to celebrate our anniversary.  I have no emotional connection to Valentine's Day.  None.  If anything, I enjoyed it more when I was single.  My single ritual was to get together with girlfriends and some pints of ice cream and watch chick flicks, heaping derision on the characters the whole time.  It was the best.  Seriously.  Chick flicks are so easily mockable, it's wonderful.

Well, this one practically mocks itself

This would be more of an issue for me if Tyler liked Valentine's Day, but I think he hates it even more than I do.  We have always had a mutual agreement to ignore the day.  Our first Valentine's Day together was spent eating pizza and playing group Halo (or, in my case, watching group Halo.  Working two joysticks at once is most definitely not possible for me).  Today, my festivities consist of making mozzarella sticks and watching some bloody action movie with him.

Welcome to my Valentine's Day.

My real problem with Valentine's Day is just the meaninglessness.  I don't like being told what to do.  I don't like being told that today I have to be romantic.  I don't like how insanely commercial it is (shocker.  I mean, it is a commercial holiday).  I am not paying $40 for a meal that is $20 every other day just because you sprinkled some heart confetti on my table and gave me a pink vodka drink.  I don't want Tyler paying half a hundred dollars for some flowers for me.  I know this all sounds very money-centric, but money is tight.  If we are going to spend on something memorable, let's buy Firefly on DVD or go on a trip.  And let's do it on our own time.

You can't escape forever, Tyler.  I will make you watch this.

If Valentine's Day is a special day for you, please celebrate.  Enjoy your day.  In fact, celebrate every day that has meaning to your relationship.  Celebrate the normal days.  If you are single, enjoy that too!  Being single is wonderful.  Flirt and have fun and meet someone wonderful and new.  Or, if you are introverted like me, spend your day on a couch in sweats eating delicious food and watching any movie you want.  Read a good book.  Dance around your apartment.

Valentine's Day doesn't really matter.  But it is another opportunity to have fun.  Go out and do it.  And if you have fun plans or a good story, please share.  I like stories.

An Ode to Fall...

...of course, written right as it is ending.

I have been such a blogging slacker.  To anyone out there that actually reads this thing, I am sorry for failing at updates.

Lately, I have been waking up to frost and cold and a world slightly more white than it was when I went to sleep.  This whiteness generally fades by the time I am out of work, but it is still heralding the imminent end of my favorite season.  So I thought I would take this opportunity to celebrate the many, many things I love about the best season there is:  fall.  Or, you know, autumn if you're fancy.

 Whatever you want to call it, it's awesome.

I freaking love fall.  Always have.  Always.  Even when I was a little kid and everyone talked about how summer was just the best ever, I liked fall.  Yeah, I know it is back-to-school season, but I liked school.  I'm a nerd.  Sue me.  Every other season seemed more popular to the people around me.  It was unfair.  The minority of kids that didn't list summer as the favorite were either ski bums who loved winter and its frigidness with a strange intensity or girls who loved spring because it had flowers.  And the beginning of skirt-wearing season.

You know, I'm just switching to list-form.  You knew it was coming.

Reasons why fall is amazing:

The weather turns colder.  I know that lots of people don't like this about fall, but I love it.  I'm not a fan of hot weather.  Aside from my alarming propensity towards dehydration and heatstroke, I don't like stepping outside and instantly sweating.  I hate the swarms of bugs.  Even when I am perfectly content and secure with my body, I maintain that swimsuits kind of suck, as does the rest of the scant and skimpy summer wardrobe.  I am a blindingly pale Montana girl, used to cold weather and jeans and I don't like changing that.  Most of the things I like about summer are also present in fall.  I can still hike in the fall.  I can still hang out outside in the fall.  Bonfires are even better in the fall.  It gets cold.  And I love it.

This is way better when you are freezing.

School starts again.  I love school.  Love it.  I get periodically depressed that I am not still in school.  I freaked out about starting new classes, getting to write papers and do research projects, buying new notebooks and filling them with notes and doodles, and actually seeing people again.  I am not socially gifted (shocking, I know) and school was the easiest social time ever for me.  I was guaranteed to see people I liked and got along with.  I saw jerks too, but I was very good at hiding so I was just fine.

I was neither seen nor heard.

A veritable myriad of pumpkin, squash, and apple-related foods.  I freak out a bit about these flavors.  And by a bit, I mean a lot.  I would eat them all the time if possible, but they are magical in fall.

These things are delicious.

Cold weather clothing.  My entire wardrobe pretty much consists of jeans, t-shirts, sweatshirts, and scarves.  Fall is the best season ever for this.  When you layer up in fall, people think you are stylish instead of crazy.  It is wonderful.

Fall is beautiful.  There is no season with better colors than fall.  None.  Summer, while pretty, is overwhelmingly green.  Spring is the color of mud and depression where I come from.  Winter is white.  And grey.  Fall is like an explosion of oranges, reds, yellows and greens, so intense they almost make your eyes hurt.  Everything is beautiful and crisp and perfect.

Proof.

 

 Proof part 2.

You know, I really don't have any sort of a good wrap up.  I like fall.  I wish it would last a bit longer.  But Pullman is fickle and says "hell no" to any of my requests.

To all of you, I wish you an eternal autumn.  In your hearts, if nowhere else.

Accio...

...happiness.

It is that time of year for me again, dear readers.  Though it may not be "that time of year" for anyone else.  Actually, maybe no one else deals with this time of the year or...

I should explain.  This will be about Harry Potter.

The one in the glasses, for you non-Potter heads.

Since my junior year of college, every time fall comes around is "re-read Harry Potter" time for me.  I swear, there is a reason.  I did not begin reading the Harry Potter books until the summer right before my junior year of college.  I had nothing against them, personally.  Just never got around to it.  Well, actually, when I was a kid I was discouraged from reading them because my mother had been incorrectly informed about their content by some well-meaning (if mildly paranoid) church moms.  They seemed to believe that the Harry Potter books contained some secret portal to hell that would render me some sort of Satan-influenced deviant.  Because no other children's books deal with fantasy worlds and I would obviously be confused and start actively pursuing witchcraft after reading them due to my inability to distinguish a story from reality.

But I digress.

I do that a lot.  Maybe I should wear this as a warning.

I read the first two books the summer before I left for my study-abroad trip and I liked them.  The characters were interesting and dynamic and the writing, while definitely children's-book level, was used to tell some pretty wonderful stories.  I assumed that I would finish them when I got home because, although I enjoyed them, I didn't really see a lot of opportunity for me to continue reading the books when we would be moving towns every three to four days.

Then, one day early on in the trip, we were let loose for several hours of the afternoon.  We had nowhere to be until meeting up with the group again for dinner.  It being an extremely wet and gray day in London, my friend and I, both needing a little rest, decided to find a bookstore and disappear into it for a few hours.  I began doing my traditional bookstore-browsing and discovered the third Harry Potter book in the children's section.  "Why not?" I thought.  "It will be a good way to pass some time."  I sat in the store and read through that book for the next four hours.

I was hooked.

This book will do that to you.

For the rest of the trip, any book-reading opportunity became an excuse to sneak away and read more Harry Potter.  I finished the fifth book in a bookstore/coffee shop in Oxford, quietly weeping into my sleeve and trying not to snuffle.  I didn't want the laptop-and-textbook-wielding students to know that while they pored over Proust or wrote up economic strategies, I was sobbing in the corner over the death of a fictional character.

I don't cry as pretty as this.

I finished the final two books over Christmas break back home in Montana (accompanied by long bouts of sobbing.  Seriously.  Those books).  I know that everyone who read the books as they came out already had come to terms with the end of the series and such, but I felt a palpable sense of loss as I was finishing the final book.  It was over.

Then, of course, I remembered that I could re-read them.

I think, at this point, I have read the entire series through at least seven times.  Much of it has been in the fall.  I feel the need for Harry Potter at many times, but, for some reason, fall seems to make Harry-Potter-reading necessary for me.  Maybe it reminds me of the first time I read the books and fell in love with the characters.  I just start craving Harry Potter in the fall.

I also crave pumpkin-related things, but that's another topic.

This Potter-fix has great timing this year for...well...a completely nerdy reason.  I am living in Pullman this year with Tyler and Pullman is a tiny town.  We have been incredibly lucky and we have found some great people in the grad department and beyond to hang out with but...I just can't help getting lonely sometimes.

Don't get me wrong.  These people are great.  And Tyler is wonderful.  But I am notoriously bad at getting to know new people.  It generally takes me ages to establish any kind of intimacy with anyone.  And I miss my friends.  I miss being able to talk with people who know me.  Really know me.  And know my background and my family and my personality and just...understand me.  I miss having conversations about real, personal, sometimes uncomfortable things.  I miss having a real community around me.  Maybe I am just spoiled in a way.  I am used to the small town I grew up in, where everyone knows you and your family and what you've been like in school for the past twelve years.  I got that same thing at college by joining an incredibly tight-knit dorm and a great group of friends.  Now, out on my own with my friends scattered around the world I feel...lost.

Different kind of lost, guys.

That's why Harry Potter helps a bit.  I know this is a brand of nerdy bordering on psychotic, but the characters in those books...they feel like friends.  I know they are not friends I can interact with.  I know they are not real people who actually know me.  I am not saying they are a viable substitute for real, living, breathing, talking friends.  But during a time of year where I am feeling lonely, it's nice to jump into familiar stories of familiar people growing and shifting and becoming who they are.  It's nice to feel a part of that.  It's nice to feel that, if these people existed, I would totally hang out with them.  And it's kind of nice to vicariously be a part of the type of fellowship and interactions that they have with one another.

To all my friends, scattered wherever you have been scattered:  I miss and love all of you.
To all of the people where I am now:  I will try to be brave enough to make real friendships with you.
To all the Harry Potter lovers:  Thank you for not judging me too harshly.

They are an accepting group.

Now, if you will excuse me, a book is calling.

Growing up...

...not just for characters in "Peter Pan".

In this strange and mystical journey known as "becoming a grown-up", I have discovered some things that I believe to be true and good to remember.  Some of these come from "the happiness project", and some are just my own observations.  In order to share some of my hard-earned wisdom so that you, dear readers, do not have to make the same mistakes I have, I am list-forming this business and telling you how I came to these conclusions.  You may think some of these are silly, but I swear they still matter.

Super-Secret Truths for Being a Grown-Up:

It's okay to ask for help.  I absolutely swear that this is true.  I seem to be getting worse at this as I get older instead of better, so I should probably remind myself that this is important.  I keep on thinking that being out of college and married and all means that I should be able to do everything by myself.  I resent it when my parents ask if I am going to doctor's appointments or checking up on the car.  I get annoyed when Tyler reminds me to go to bed early when I am sick.  I even get snippy sometimes when he is just doing something nice for me.  Tyler will go to do the laundry and I will get all offended, because somehow his nice gesture is really saying that he doesn't trust me to do the laundry.  This is ridiculous, of course.  I just have a husband who likes being nice to me and his kindness upsets me, apparently.

Man, I'm a great wife.

I need to keep reminding myself that they don't tell me these things because they don't believe I can handle them, but because they want to help me.  I also need to be able to ask for help with things I can't do alone.  There are some things that I just don't know how to cook and Tyler has to help me.  I do not know how to do taxes.  I need help for it.  I have trouble making friends with new people.  Sometimes, I need advice.  Asking for help is not the end of the world and it does not make you weak.  It makes you human.  Don't freak out.

Do not do this.

Be nice to EVERYONE.  This includes the people that drive you nuts.  There are some people that I know who are draining and annoying and mockable and there are often times that I am impatient and rude with them.  This is not okay for a number of reasons.  The first is the basic rule that we learned in kindergarten, that we need to be nice to each other.  The second is that there are plenty of times that people around me have no desire to be nice to me, but I still expect common courtesy.  And the last reason is that being a jerk to people just shows that I am a jerk at heart and I really don't want to be a that person.  Being nice to others, even the ones that make me want to gouge my eyes out, actually makes me a nicer and more patient person.  I hope it does, anyway.

Waiting tables gave me lots of practice.

Bring a sweater.  Since junior high, I have never remembered this and I am always cold.  I always forgot jackets too, even in the winter.  Also, remember to bring appropriate shoes.  I once went on a high school band trip to Canada in the winter and brought nothing but dress shoes and sandals.  I have no explanation for this.

 Pictured: inappropriate flip-flop weather.

If you can't find something, clean.  I apologize to everyone that has witnessed or had to deal with the chaos of anywhere I live.

You can choose what you do.  You can't choose what you LIKE to do.  This seems very career-pertinent right now.  I do get some say with what jobs I accept (though this is somewhat limited by what jobs accept me) and I need to keep in mind that I may love a job that others would find mind-blowingly dull.  I like independent work.  I like research and writing big papers and reports.  I like finding little details and figuring out how things fit together.  I can't stand work that is repetitive and unchallenging.  Other people don't mind this.  Some other people even enjoy this.  I just need to remember that it is not a moral failing in me if I don't enjoy that as well.

I would run away screaming within a month.

What you do every day matters more than what you do once in a while.  If I make one grand gesture to Tyler of cleaning the kitchen once a month, that is nowhere near as meaningful as it would be if I made it a habit to keep the kitchen clean every day.  Or keep our room clean every day.  Or tell him I love him every day.

You don't have to be good at everything.  I can't tell if I am crazy competitive or a crazy perfectionist.  Maybe both.  But I can't stand to not excel at...pretty much everything I attempt.  I feel a profound sense of guilt and failure if I am not wonderful at every new thing I decide to do.  This should stop.  Eventually, I need to be realistic and admit that I am not great at everything.  Some things, I will always be bad at.  It's really ok.

This will never be me.

Over-the-counter medicines are very effective.  Decongestants, ibuprofen, cough syrup...these things have all become my dear friends recently.  It was something of a revelation  that I could be feeling better RIGHT NOW and for some reason I was putting that off.

What's fun for other people may not be fun for you (and vice versa).  I will never enjoy watching baseball, but I love watching soccer games.  I will never enjoy weeding or gardening.  I hate going to parties or mixers full of strangers.  Running for a workout is the most joyless and painful thing in the world for me.  At some point, I realized that I am much happier if I stop pretending to enjoy things that feel like a chore to me.  Sometimes, I wish I was the kind of person that loved meeting strangers or shopping or listening to country, but I am not.  I like going to ballets and listening to choral music.  I can spend an entire day wandering around a bookstore.  I read Shakespeare for fun when I was 10.  I probably understood maybe half of it but that was fun for me.  I know that many things I do for fun are not even remotely fun for others and that is fine with me.  I know that many people love baseball games and shopping, but I can't stand them.  Part of growing up is knowing what you do and do not like and being comfortable with admitting it.  Another part is beginning to spend your free time doing the things that you actually enjoy doing, not things that you feel like you should enjoy.

This is my kryptonite.

Doing what you know is good instead of what makes you feel good, often makes you feel good anyway.  This applies both physically and morally.  Working out when it's the last thing I want to do usually makes me feel better.  Keeping the lid on some gossip I've heard always makes me feel better than the rush of sharing it.  Sometimes it pays to be a little bit goody-two-shoes.

Hair dye is cheaper than a tattoo.  I get antsy every so often and I want some sort of change to make myself feel daring and badass.  Usually this is when I circle back to deciding I want a tattoo.  However, getting a tattoo just because you want to feel cool is really not a great reason.  Last time this happened, I went and bought some hair dye instead.  Going brunette was infinitely cheaper than getting inked and it still made me feel different.

Ok, not quite this different.

Only follow trends you actually like.  I will never wear animal print.  I don't care how fashionable it is.

Don't ever approach me with jeggings either.

Sometimes indulgence trumps denial, and that should be okay.  I should not have to feel overwhelming guilt if I decide that I want some ice cream for dessert today.  Diets are all well and good, but sometimes a person just needs ice cream.

You know you want me.

Not every day requires makeup.  No one will be appalled or offended if I do not put on makeup every time I see other people.  There is something to be said for being comfortable in your own skin.  Am I anti-makeup?  Not at all.  Makeup can give me a confidence kick when I need it.  It can make me feel dressed-up and beautiful sometimes.  I just find it freeing to realize that I still like the way I look when I don't have makeup on.

Chick flicks are a lie.  Real life relationships should not think stalking is flattering.  Obsession is not a mark of true love.  Being erratic and childlike and strange is not an automatic pathway to being adorable.  Guys do not often burst into impassioned speeches about true love and soul mates and destiny and THE ONE.  "Independent woman" should not equal "bitch".  Intelligence does not make a woman unappealing.  Relationships in real life happen between people who work normal jobs to pay the bills, who have friends that do not fall into convenient stereotypes, who are not thrown together by unrealistically wacky circumstances.

And the lead girl in "Elizabethtown" and the lead girl in "Garden State" are annoying tropes that exist to make the guy a better person.

Girls and boys:  be yourself, have fun, and get to know other people.  Do not search for your Edward or Bella.  You would not like them if they existed in real life.

This is a face you alert authorities about.