The long weekend I spent at SXSW (pretending like I was 21), despite the exhaustion it caused, is a bright and glimmering memory scented with lime and fresh air.  I’ve been at a moderate loss-for-words when trying to describe how invigorating it was to step outside of my normal, heavily-routined life and do something totally different and unmistakeably adventurous.

The loss of sleep and tiredness I’ve been experiencing this week is a small price to pay for the rediscoveries that I made while I was down there.  I can make friends out of strangers.  I can navigate cities.  I can remember street names and directions, and if I can’t, I can call someone who can.  I can converse with just about anyone, or I can be quiet and listen.  I can make new friends laugh.  Seems silly to find empowerment in these things, but I haven’t had to exercise those skill sets in so long, I wasn’t sure I still had the abilities.

I exist everyday in the space between being an introvert an extrovert.  I love people, but social engagements are exhausting to me.  I talk to strangers, but I keep it short.  I go to parties, but I leave early.  I don’t go out, I don’t go to shows, I act older than I am.  (I’m sure people will argue that there are no parts of me that are introverted.  To those people I would say, a.) when I’m feeling introverted, I’m usually alone, and b.) it’s all relative.)  This one weekend, though, I went all extrovert.  I talked, traveled and drank.  I met, communed, shared. I stayed out late and lived. I was an action verb, and I made the most out of it.