There are a couple of things that, for sure, define me.
First of all, I’m very introverted. You wouldn’t guess so at all since I can be bubbly, I am great in communication, and I’m capable of being a friendly company. I probably can pretend to be an extrovert. But for a very limited time, then I need my solitude. I need my time to think, to read, to enjoy myself. To catch my thoughts and write something short or several pages of my newest book. I would be slowly dying unless I can be myself and by myself.
Sometimes I do stupid things. It’s not (usually) that I don’t think or overthink something. Sometimes I like to do stupid things. It would be pointless to ask, “why?” because much more you get if asking “when?”. Usually, when my well-controlled emotions got to the point when I need to release a bit of steam. Then I do something dumb, but nothing really big. I buy something not precisely cheap that gives me pleasure for a short period of time. I buy a fortune-telling ball or a well-pictured book of a popular physics or a hand-made diary with a leather binding.
I’m an indoor person. Don’t take me wrong, I love the primeval forest, legendary deads cities, or sight of pyramids as anyone else, but since the time of HD quality photo-drones, I’m happy to stay behind my desk and watch the beauty with a nice glass of wine and with smooth background music.
My huge interest is stories. Of course, I’m into well-written movies and well-read books. But I also enjoy inspiring reality shows very much. I guess that in the reader’s kind mind, I’ve just lost a number of IQ points I mentioned above.Well, I never said I was perfect.