I think I communicate best now, the less I say

I think I became me sometime in middle school.

All of us are always in a state of constant change, evolving from moment to moment into a different Me than the Me even half an hour ago. All of us are also more or less the same person from moment to moment. Nevertheless, I'm convinced that it was right around 7th or 8th grade when the personality fragrant with the musk of Relatively Consistent Present Day Linda began to emerge. I think it was around then that I first gave any real thought to my own personality in that self-reflexive, out-of-body kind of way, and so now I can distinctly remember, at that point, having qualities that I still consider elemental to my sense of Lindaness. Right around 7th or 8th grade was also when I thought that sparkly, pastel blue eyeshadow was a stroke of fashion brilliance, though, so it wasn't an unqualified period of enlightenment.

And on that train of thought, one of the characteristics that I've persistently recognized in myself since becoming me is a perhaps unusual appreciation for silence. I like quiet. I'm not self-absorbed enough to think that this is a uniquely Linda trait, but unlike most of my friends, I rarely ever play music just to have it on in the background. I consider it a landmark of friendship when two people can sit in comfortable silence. It's not like I would consider becoming a Trappist monk or anything (the fact that the sex change would unequivocally expel me from the Catholic church notwithstanding), but I heartily appreciate it when my world isn't constantly cluttered with sound.

Plus, when you like things to be in the lower decibel ranges, you start to notice some of the other perks and qualities of quiet. As we've learned from countless love ballads, what a person doesn't say can be just as important as what she does. I've built up a great amount of respect for people who don't brag, who don't complain, who don't take the opportunity to gossip or retort, who abstain from talking just to hear themselves speak, who won't draw attention to themselves for the sake of collecting eyes. For whatever reason I see these kind of deliberate omissions as a demonstration of self-respect and confidence; I like the idea that a person doesn't need the constant vocal acknowledgement or validation of others to exist.

This particular set of values can, of course, also be seen as a rationalized defense mechanism for the chronically meek, bitter, shy, or awkward, but lemonade is lemonade.