Peninsular People

Recently, I had a public disagreement with someone. It was civil enough, a simple divergence of opinion. But they found the fact that it involved observers to be in itself offensive, saying how they preferred to “praise in public and punish in private”. I suppose we’re exactly opposite in mindsets, as I say almost everything in public, and nearly nothing in private. That’s how I was raised around my Dutch ancestors, a kind of aggressive open honesty in action. I’m not much for secret thoughts and feelings. I’ve always considered communication as a thing for open consumption. That if a thing is worth saying, it’s worth telling the world. You’ll never hear me whisper: “This is just between us.” The sole exception to that rule is Susy, my wife. She’s the only person who knows parts of me that no one else does.

I’m extremely introverted outside of public life. I’ve never maintained friendships for long, either as a child or adult, and happily spend most of my time alone. The main issue I find is claustrophobia. When someone closes the walls in around us, I get nervous, because I know they imagine something special at our crossroads. But my writing reads exactly the same as my speech, so what I give them is nothing new. Buying my books brings us just as close as conversations would. So what do I want from others? For them to be the same. Independent personalities, peninsular people who don’t care who’s listening. If they need a friend, I don’t need them. Just like falling in love, I only value friendship as a genuine want, deep desire from both parties. Growing wild in those who could live without.

March 1, 2026
Canada Creek, Nova Scotia

Year 19, Day 6685 of my daily journal.