Misgivings with Words

This evening we took a quiz together, the family and I, a silly quiz: "Which cartoon character are you?" Its results were more serious than its title implied. But this is not the point.

There was a particular question that piqued my interest; some cliché, "what kind of person would you prefer to spend your time with?" though it was far less the question itself as the possible answers- and their implications.  Actually, the majority of them are meaningless; only two are of consequence.

To the point. It was a slight surprise, to hear the men's choice; "partier" in unison, they replied, reasoning that a "smart" person would implicitly be boring. I am not writing because I take offense, and I'd scarce have cause to at the moment, anyway. I'm not bitter about their decision. It's merely inspired my thought. My mother and I were in agreement, opting for "smart;" a "smart" person could theoretically be capable of finding amusement in whatever pursuits they so desired, no? Besides, we'd said (for lack of a decent alternative) that the perfect date would be spent at some amusement park or other, and desiring a partier in this circumstance may well prove superfluous.

Now, I have grown curious, what type of person might this "partier" be? Clearly he or she enjoys to party.  However. Firstly, I believe we are to assume that this person is not "smart," or at least this is not a remotely dominant trait of theirs.  No, in fact, their dominant trait is "partying." Now, I began to wonder! What kind of person would I be, that, when asked "What kind of person are you?" I would reply "Why, I am a partier, of course!" Now, naturally, for the sake of redundancy, I'd be a partier.  But I think I'd also be far more than that (or in my eyes far less). For who am I, and who could I be, that the entire summation of my existence can be contained within one simple noun that is used in referencing one of millions of activities I could reasonably also partake of? And I'd like to reject the notion that human beings are so shallow and narrow-minded, that their lives must be dedicated to the pursuit of but one venture or interest. I'd like to- really.

No, thank you, I don't believe that peoples' personalities should be so ably described by a single activity, because, by that reasoning, I think I would be a shitter.  And you, perhaps, would be an eater. And we'd all be livers, and diers, and dreamers, and breathers, and huggers, and criers, and lovers.  We'd all be  everythings and nothings, and words would be unnecessaries.  Well, I don't know about you, but I don't want to be a shitter.

Yes, yes, I know. I'm missing the point; Mr. Partier loves to party, whereas I, not loving to shit, could not possibly be a shitter, and so I've nothing to fear. Still the depth of these descriptors is equal in my eyes. Yes, my dear, you like to party, I've gathered that. But who, pray tell, and what, are you? I do believe a person may be bold, may be shy, adventurous or wild, intelligent or dim-witted, wily or mild-mannered, faithful or uncaring. And, by no means, do any of these adjectives inherently or irrefutably exclude the possibility of partying. So, once more I inquire, why describe yourself by means of a single activity?

But then again, it is our actions that define us.

That said, dear partier, I think no less of you. My misanthropy knows little bias.