Introverti

Not so long ago, I read about introverts on Hacker News, and how for X Americans, an average of Y would be serious introverts (luckily this doesn’t seem to affect us Europeans). While some of those poor introvees don’t know a thing about their condition, some could be faking it, obviously, shame on you faketroverts.

The point made was that introverts are cool, have an awesome creative brain, with hidden powers and extra cheese. But as a drawback, they are kinda awkward socially: the introvert need some alone-time to recharge h{er,is} batteries, and then can go back to a normal life of consumerism, tivo-ing, and endless chats about the latest game, comic book, or whatever.

That’s all very fine with me, although it just seem like another word for geek. Like they stole the damn word from us, and turned it into Peter Parker, the Bastards. Now we’re introverts. Next time we will not hesitate to use pseudo-latin. Do not fuck with us, we’re the Introverti of the Internets.

Let’s get back to me. This is my first post in english so, please, can I be self-centered for a little longer? Although you could stop reading now: the following is strictly boring.

Last Thursday, I was still convinced it was okay to drive through half the gracious lands of France with my dad, to end up at a holiday resort. He got an extra-big discount to stay there a few days in a decent looking.. mobile-home. I won’t count the ways I hate holiday resorts, or mobile-homes. Combine the two and you’ve got the king of holidays I won’t typically enjoy. Somehow I tend to be a supportive son, I’ll endure it, and try to get the best of the damn situation. Plus I get to escape work a few days under the sun, which is motivational enough.

No my dad did not buy the stupid thing in the end, it is of course a scam, duh.

It was not just the two of us. My sister joined in with her Italian boyfriend, who can’t walk very far because of his broken little toe. Which is quite amusing since he’s a giant pack of meat that used to do weight-lifting. From Thursday up to Sunday, the schedule was mostly beach and sun-bathing, aka human bbq, with a lot of bacon. I hate that, I’d rather have real bbqs than observe sea lions in pink bikinis.

Sadly, my stock of one (1) book died too early and without a decent library around I was quite frustrated. Imagine a cute puppy all alone and sad in the sand, that’s me with nothing to read.

Then I had to acknowledge soccer trivia while turning my back to the huge LCDs every restaurant love to put on display during the world cup. I won’t recall our endless chats about how nice this place is, though a little bit crowded during the full season, and how hot the weather is, and how’s your toe dude?

My family is not common ground for introverts. Not at all. It’s just that we manufacture them with carefully crafted holiday sessions. So, please don’t talk to me for a few years. I need to recharge now… Or grab some beers, and show me clever code, that could help.

Extra thanks to M. Ward, and Herbie Mann, who provided the soundtrack for this.