Saturday, September 02, 2006

I bet I get wet, too. I hate that.

It's the Labour Day weekend, and I live in a place where even the quadriplegic mayor goes hiking and sailing, so I suppose it shouldn't be a surprise that I'm going white water rafting and camping this weekend. I like doing things I wouldn't normally do, and rafting is one of those things I've wanted to try for a while once, so it's not really out of character. But I don't much like camping. I like sleep. Sleep free of rocks and sticks poking in my back and bugs crawling on my face. I tried to sign up for just the rafting, but the puppy dog eyes and protests from my organizing friend changed my mind.

I guess I'd say I'm a friendly, semi-social misanthrope – I play well with others, never run with scissors, and value the people I love. But I like alone time, and I'd rather be alone than be around 99.99% of the population, and I can frequently be heard saying "people are stupid," but only in front of people I don't think are stupid. So my natural tendency is to be reluctant to join in a big group activity, especially one where I'm trapped in the wilderness with them, and here I am rafting and camping with a few friends and many other friends of friends and wishing I'd come up with an excuse not to go. Even though it's something I've wanted to do for a while.

A long weekend would have been a good time to catch up on some things around the house, and around the web. I've been trying to whip the Canadian TV site into shape, with all the new series premieres coming up, and I wanted to write something for Blogcritics about that too. I need to write up the House DVD review before the season premiere on Tuesday, and I promised to post the Intelligence interview early next week, and I should do another book review very soon, too.

It's sad and pathetic that I'm thinking I'd rather stay home and work on the computer doing what I can do any day than go out and enjoy nature in the 30 degree sunshine of one of the last weekends of summer. But ... the sticks. And the rocks. And the bugs. And the people.

Yet it's my annoying inner conflict, that always ends the same way. I bet I come back having had a fabulous time and wondering how I could have possibly doubted that it would be far more fun than staying home. And it's only one day and one night, leaving lots of time for some of that other stuff. Is it possible to be both anti-social and social, and misanthropic and enjoy people? Maybe I need to refine my self-description: I'm just a whiner.