Tuesday, April 28, 2020

The previously socially distanced Sherlockian

Do you ever put something out on the public e-waves that you don't really care if people look at or not?

My last blog post just seemed a little too . . . blah . . . to me, so I wrote it, posted it, but didn't put out any links to it on my social media because, while it seemed worth adding to the "Sherlock Peoria" historical record, to be imbedded in the layers of Google's data mines forever (or until the great data extinction event), I wasn't happy enough with it to suggest anyone actually read it.

Which brings me to the topic that will probably keep coming up in all sorts of places as we figure out our socially distanced world: Some of us, sadly, were pre-built for this crisis.

If the idea of being stranded on a dessert island with the essentials for survival and one or two choice items ever came up and you went, "Yeah, I could handle that okay," you probably know what I mean.

Whether you classify yourself with a Myers-Briggs profile, a zodiac sign, a human resources provided corporate color, or whatever, you know who you are: One of those people who makes their own fun, and has been finding ways to amuse themselves without the company of others since an early age. While others drew energy from mixing and mingling with strangers in often loud and questionable locales, you could quietly go about your own thing and occasionally start laughing at your own pawky musings. Whether wandering a woods, sitting with a keyboard and screen, or crafting away at something you wanted to see come into reality, it was really okay that you were left to do it on your own.

I wonder, at this point, how many of us who operated like that found careers that worked with that sort of persona, and, thus, were more easily transitioned to working from home with an internet connection. How many of us had our homes stocked with what we need to entertain ourselves for long periods of time without venturing out. And how many of us are now starting to settle into this pre-built nest, once the initial wave of hypochondria faded, with the comfortable wriggle of a happy cartoon character in their perfect place.

I think, if it weren't for cooking meals, which I enjoy, and doing dishes, which goes with the former even though I don't enjoy it, I would be happily spending all my non-work hours doing Sherlockian things, with the occasional evening for Netflix. Not that I don't enjoy my friends, but having learned from my most distant besties that long periods between visits do not destroy a true friendship, I don't worry about that part too much. What do I worry about?

That somehow all this is somehow wrong. That I shouldn't be adapting so easily when others are struggling so much. That all these skills, built from insecurities and social awkwardness, are something to be ashamed of. That I don't deserve to be this lucky. All those sorts of things that come with survivor's guilt.

The thing of it is, most of us didn't choose to be who we are and where we are. Life thrust circumstances and personalities upon us and we dealt with them as best we could. We adapted. We continue to adapt. And finding a little happiness, however, you find it right now, does not deplete the happiness banks of anyone else, unless you're actively stealing  from others (In which case, knock that shit off right now!) or abusing them for your own amusement (Also, stop it!) or just serial killing (Ummm, can you forget I exist? Thanks.), well, then you're probably doing okay. And, if the moment occurs when you're up to doing a little more, it might be good to step up.

Sherlockiana has always been something some of us do for our own fun, and sharing it, even if it's just saying "Hey, this book was good!" has long been our payment for those who shared with us at one point or another. The sharing part is what makes us Sherlockians and not just "a person who enjoys thinking about Sherlock Holmes."

So if you catch me oversharing during this Sherlockian nesting time, it's just because I've settled in and am enjoying the hell out of this hobby in a time which otherwise might not be too enjoyable. And I hope you're doing okay enough to be sharing as well.

1 comment:

  1. I've probably always been happy with my own solitary joys before that time when you discover a thing called 'social awkwardness' exists -and I enjoy my friends for sure - but there's nothing to feel guilty about just because you are wired a certain way. I feel sorry for those who thrive on crowds and noisy communion who are feeling deprived of what they are wired for though. I feel lucky, certainly. And lucky that Sherlockiana is something we can all share, whatever way we are wired.