Inconsistencies

This is why I am a hard person to know, really know. On the outside, I appear to be a fairly sedate, mild-mannered individual, but inside I can be extremely passionate. For example, when it comes to food, I all of a sudden become a critical, articulate, meticulous, intense, exuberant, lustful person. Which makes me wonder, is this the real me, but I just suppress my inner longings to be accepted by the outside world? I know we sometimes have different moods depending on our surroundings, but how can I seem so callous and nonchalant about the majority of things in my life, but so compassionate and concerned when the cause hits a nerve?

I find that I am a very middle-of-the-road kind of person - I never stir the water too much, don't cause arguments unnecessarily (unless provoked), seldom use the words "always" and "never", and am generally very accepting. But when it comes to my passions, my loves, my angst, I go extreme. I have argued with my husband for 6 hours straight, because I'm stubborn as a mule (and he's stubborn as a mule's mother). I have sat at a pottery wheel for 8 hours straight without eating or peeing. I took on 4 jobs simultaneously one summer because I wanted to save up a little money for the school year AND get a fulfilling internship on my resume. This week, our new piano was delivered (my favoritest purchase ever) and I think I played for about 3 hours straight, with 2 noisy, distracting toddlers trying to hog my keyboard space. When I was growing up, my mom had to chase me down to keep my butt glued to that piano bench for more than half an hour.

I suppose it would be draining to have the same level of passion and care for everything that crosses my path. Am I really that two-faced? One of my biggest concerns in life is to be fair, yet I am far from fair when it comes to the people, places and things that I choose to love/not love.

I find myself envying all those people who know how to ask all the right questions at the right time and know just the right thing to say when someone needs it. I am not that person. I really DO care even though it may seem the contrary. My sensitive husband and I had an argument on this subject early on in our marriage. He was basically hurt because I would ask the same question to him every day after he came home from work, "How was your day?" He said it was apparent that I really didn't care, because I never asked follow-up questions. I was always satisfied with, "Fine." Why wouldn't I care how my husband's day went and how he is doing? Of course I do. But why do I come off as such an insensitive prick? How is it that I can ramble on and on about the subtle hints of herbs or spices in a dish and critique its balance and texture (think Iron Chef, when they critique the two opponents based on use of ingredients, presentation and originality), yet when it comes to people or things that should matter, I'm an absolute dolt? I am reminded of something a wise friend once said to his class, "People are different." Oh so true. You can take me or leave me. I could care less.