The Introversion Spectrum

Today I read an article that reinforces an idea I've had about myself and about introversion for a long time.  The idea is that there is a scale to introversion, and that it may fall within the same line as autism and Asperger's Syndrome.  This matches up well with my own experiences, perceptions and studies of psychology.  I've felt for many years that my personality has much in common with Asperger's, and that I wouldn't need to travel very far along this spectrum before finding myself in that territory.

This is what I mean when I call myself an extreme introvert.  There are varying levels of introversion, and I guess I'd place myself at more of a "medium-well" to "well done" level.

This is from the article at Psychology Today:

... Grimes posits that introversion is not the opposite of extroversion, but that they are two different traits altogether. And she proposes something that has come up here from time to time: That introversion actually is on the autism scale.

Grimes' thesis explains that if you take each of the factors this new model proposes and follow it along a continuum to their most extreme expressions, they correlate with the widely used Baron-Cohen Autism Spectrum Quotient.

Depending on how much we have of each factor  (and how they interact with other personality traits), we can be simply introverted or, moving along the continuum, have Asperger's syndrome or, moving further yet, have autism.

A Compelling Theory About Introversion, Extroversion, and Autism
from the blog, The Introvert's Corner

It's an interesting theory. And, even better, it fits in nicely with my tagline!

 

The Words That Find Their Way Out

... Sebastian, who might be brilliant, was also terminally soft-spoken. He wore a beard that obscured his mouth, which Chris took as emblematic: the words that found their way out were sparse and generally difficult to interpret.

Excerpt from Blind Lake
by Robert Charles Wilson

Side note: Growing up, I know that this quote represents how I was often perceived. Even now, I'm often seen this way: soft spoken. People sometimes equate this as a lack of confidence. I think it's more a lack of practice (with perhaps a lack of interest thrown in). If you don't often make conversation, sometimes you forget how to regulate your voice.

 

Inescapable Teams

Last week, one of my managers requested a self-assessment of my performance for the quarter. He also asked whether I had any suggestions for the next quarter. In my reply, I suggested that it would be nice to discuss his thoughts about the possibility of me telecommuting at some point.

I was pleasantly surprised when he responded to my email. My other manager simply ignores me whenever I bring up the topic of telecommuting. Here's the response that I received:

What is your motivation for telecommuting? I try to be very accommodating of work/life balance as I believe it leads to long term satisfaction as well as productivity. The new offices are not far away and I believe you have the shortest commute of anybody. So I really don't understand the motivation. I am a firm believer that small development teams working closely together is the best option for productive development as well as personal development. I don't like the pattern we are using of one big scrum team without much intra-team communication... While we are a pretty quiet team, I feel like having you sit with the team has been beneficial toward promoting conversation.

As a whole, it's a reasonable response and I appreciate at least being able to have a discussion about the topic. But it was clear from his response that he wouldn't understand my motivation. He firmly believes, after all, that a small development team working closely together is best -- not only for productive development, but also for personal growth. But how would he know what environment is best for my productivity? I'm fairly certain he doesn't know what's best for my personal growth.

My motivation for telecommuting isn't entirely about my introversion -- in fact, it's not even mostly about it -- but it still irks me whenever the idea of the individual loses out to that of the team. If my personal growth depends on working closely with a team, then let me be stunted. As an introvert, I feel like I've spent most of my life adapting to a social world. I've grown, yes, and I've learned how to get by in that world; meanwhile, I've neglected another kind of growth, the kind that involves just being myself. I'd like to grow in the way that I see fit, not only in the way that's best for the team.

Also, I don't see why I need to sit next to the team in order to effectively communicate with them. It's silly to think so, especially for a technology team.

In any case, I wrote a long email about my motivation for telecommuting and I tried to be clear and reasonable in return. I'm not expecting much to come from it, but at least I had a chance to plead my case. I do hope that my manager will see that there are other perspectives, though.

 

Not Cowed With Fear

To no one in particular:

You may think that I'm weak because I'm so often voiceless; or that I cower when I fail to make myself known; or that I'm timid while you wait for me to choose my words; or that I lack confidence because I keep to myself.

But it's not fear that holds me back. It's not fear that often keeps me away from you and others. And it's not fear that makes me the way that I am. I'm not afraid to be more like you; I simply have no desire to be something that I'm not.

I don't need to learn to be more loud, or more outspoken, or more visible. I don't need to become more sure of myself. What I need, if anything, is to stop allowing my personality to be questioned so much. I need, perhaps, to be more proud of who I am.

I'm not afraid to be myself, and I don't need to change. It's not fear that you see in me. It's just me.

This is how I am.

Get used to it.

 

Do We Treat Each Other Any Better?

Sometimes I wonder if we introverts can expect any better treatment from each other than we're often accustomed to getting from extroverts; after all, we should know better. But whenever I find myself saying dumb, insensitive things to others in general, I become doubtful that there's much difference between "us and them." I still like to hope, though. What better education in sensitivity is there than experience?

 

They Fail To Tease Out Details

"... [he] had the ability to insert full stops in conversations, when and where he wished them."

The Imperfectionists
Tom Rachman

 

You Don't Talk

"You don't talk," someone says to me.

These are dreaded words to hear while in the midst of any interaction. But when these words are uttered by someone close to me, they're more than dreaded. They're hurtful.

When a stranger or casual acquaintance says this to me, I feel pegged into a corner. I feel myself descending a vortex of self-consciousness, down into a personal house of mirrors. I become immobile with self-reflection. My thoughts reel with what the stranger must be seeing in me. Although several verbal responses occur to me, none of them seem to do me justice; they all seem either petty or defensive or insufficient. I'd rather just confirm the stranger's notion by not responding.

When it's a friend who says such a thing, however, I feel misunderstood, confused and hurt. Do they not see that my interaction and conversation thus far adds up to much more than most people ever get from me? Do they not see that I'm trying my best, that what I do say already feels like a lot, that, in truth, it feels like I'm blabbering? Do they not see that I'd be faking if I gave any more? And after all that we've been through, how can that be the single epitaph that is pinned on me? I feel lost and unsure of my value as a friend and human being. I question whether I should try so hard to be a friend when, after everything, I'm still seen in the very same light that complete strangers see me in.

What is it about such simple statements that makes them into blunt weapons? Is it the truth in the words that gets to me? Or is it the untruth? Has the mark been hit, or has it become blurred until it's unrecognizable?

Sometimes, I think perhaps these words are used as a ploy to goad me into talking more. If so, then it doesn't work well. For me, it has the opposite effect. I'll want to give less, if only because I feel that I've been made out to be less than I am. It's a petty reaction, I know, but that's how I feel.

One way or another, it seems that there's a lack of perceptiveness in this equation. It's either that others cannot see more in me, or it's that I actually present myself as someone whose personality can be boiled down to those three words: "you don't talk."

I hope neither of those scenarios is true.

 

Making It Up ...

There was a company holiday party recently. The coworker that I unintentionally slighted the other day spotted me there.

He said, "Hey! Long time, no see! And that's as it should be."

I said "hey" back, and then, "Despite what I said before, it's always good to see you."

"In that case," he said, "Cheers."

"Cheers," I said, and we clinked beer mugs.

Hopefully that was enough to undo the effects of telling the truth in such a bad way. Drinks and clinking glasses sometimes have a surprising force; they can undo a lot of things.

 

(In)Appropriate: Alternatives To Talking

There are so many great things to do with the human mouth. Why waste it on talking?

Barney Stinson
How I Met Your Mother

 

On Words That Make More Sense In My Head

Occasionally I notice myself being rude to others without intending it. I had one such encounter the other day, for example, while pouring myself a coffee at work.

A coworker in the kitchen with me, a guy who sits on the opposite side of the office, said, "Hey, long time, no see!"

"That's as it should be," I replied.

And I didn't realize how rude my remark seemed until a moment later, when he said, "How dare you!"

I smiled at him and chuckled. I hoped he hadn't interpreted my remark to mean that I wish for him to stay away, or that I dislike him. At the time, all I meant was that I enjoy not being seen, that it's good not to be noticed for long periods of time. I meant what I said, but I was trying to say it in a joking way. My methods failed. They often do.

It's my own fault, I guess, if I'm misunderstood. Even though I try to say what I mean, I do so very poorly. I sometimes have no tact.

Maybe it's for the best that my coworker doesn't see me often.

Sheesh.

 

Where Introverts Reside

I overheard a conversation at work today. My boss was walking to a conference room with another colleague.

My boss said, "You won't have to talk for long, don't worry. I told them you're a man of few words."

And then I wondered, is my colleague an introvert? It's hard to guess, sometimes. Introversion seems like a secret world; I'm always on the lookout for clues to who else resides there.

 

Improvement On Silence

Before you speak, ask yourself, is it kind, is it necessary, is it true, does it improve on the silence?

Indian Guru, Sai Baba

 

Count My Words

This is a rehash of an entry that I wrote elsewhere and long ago. I figured that my once per month quota for entries needed to be met, so here I am making an appearance. This old entry was an example of how quiet I can be. I wrote about a conversation between me and my boss, as follows:

My boss told me, "We were holding bets yesterday on how many words you say in a day."

"Who's we?" I asked.

"All of us," he said.

"And who won?" I asked.

"No one won. We were just speculating," he said.

"Well, what number was guessed?" I asked.

"Oh, ten or less," he said.

As an average, that was actually a very good guess. But ideally, I think the count should probably be lower.

 

Random Tidbit Concerning Product Choice

When I purchased my cell phone last year, I must admit that one of the things I was influenced by was the manufacturer's slogan. The phone that I ended up choosing was an HTC Eris, whose slogan is "quietly brilliant." I love it. I don't know what they intended by that message, but I like to think that it suits me well.

It's funny how much of a role personality can play in product choice. I wonder how many other introverts were swayed by such slogans.

 

Not A Team Player

At a recent office outing (a baseball game), two colleagues who I sat next to discussed the topic of "team players." Somehow, I had the impression that they wanted me to overhear.

In a nutshell, what they said was that people who isolate themselves -- or co-workers who do, at least -- are not team players.

At that point, I jumped in and said, "Hey, that's me you're talking about!" I wanted to say more, but they simply acknowledged that I was correct and then continued their discussion without me.

It seems that the prevailing opinion is this: if others aren't involved in your daily life -- if you don't socialize with them or get to know what's going on in their work lives -- then you're not a team player. But I think there are many ways to contribute to a team, and they don't necessarily involve being part of a corporate "family." Unfortunately, I think most people are uncomfortable not knowing what's going on with those that they share quarters with every day.

But why? Why is it that being part of a team means making everyone else comfortable while -- if you're an introvert -- making yourself uncomfortable? Why do others need you to become part of their group? As I'm sitting there enduring a company outing, a forced social event, an event designed to make everyone else comfortable in the workplace, I can't help wondering why no one ever designs events to make someone like me feel more comfortable. I want to tell my colleagues that I'd feel more like part of the team if they'd quit saying that, just by being myself, I'm not.

 

On Hermits: Random Amusement

I'm gonna buy a bunch of hermit crabs and make 'em live together. People will say, "Are those hermit crabs?" I'll say, "Not anymore. They're mingling crabs."

by Demetri Martin

 

On Not Regretting Isolation

I was watching an old Nova show about Einstein this evening -- a recent Netflix shipment -- and the actor portraying him spoke a butchered version of something actually written by Einstein. I looked it up later and I'm copying it here. I like the part about not regretting the isolation that is a consequence of withdrawing into oneself. There's an upside to being an introvert; in fact, there are many.

The quote:

My passionate interest in social justice and social responsibility has always stood in curious contrast to a marked lack of desire for direct association with men and women. I am a horse for single harness, not cut out for tandem or teamwork. I have never belonged wholeheartedly to any country or state, to my circle of friends, or even to my own family. These ties have always been accompanied by a vague aloofness, and the wish to withdraw into myself increases with the years.

Such isolation is sometimes bitter, but I do not regret being cut off from the understanding and sympathy of other men. I lose something by it, to be sure, but I am compensated for it in being rendered independent of the customs, opinions, and prejudices of others, and am not tempted to rest my peace of mind upon such shifting foundations.

written by Einstein, 1930

 

Everyone Else Knows What's Best

Earlier, I was having a conversation that reminded me of some things that I've dealt with as an introvert (though these things are applicable to other areas of my life, as well). We were talking about work, about how her boss wanted to "promote" her. Though promotion was against her wishes, the boss was sure that it was the best route for her "growth" within the company. She disagreed; she wanted to grow, but not in that direction. The boss always knows what's best, though.

Why is it that everyone else always knows what's best for us?

It just reminds me so vividly of my younger days, and of how often I was preached to -- by friends and family and even strangers -- about growing out of my quietness. It was prescribed as the best thing for me, despite my arguments. I was perfectly happy staying just as I was, except for the fact that it seemed to bother everyone else. If they weren't bothered, then why would they be trying to change me? And if being quiet was good, then why would it make everyone uncomfortable? Of course there must be something questionable in it!

"I like being quiet," I'd say.

"Yeah, but you'll grow out of that. You'll see. And here's what you need to do to get started ..."

I didn't want to grow out of it. But I felt like I was the only one who didn't see my introversion as a problem, like I was the only one who didn't feel like I needed help.

How could anyone know what's best for me, though? I didn't even know what was best for myself. I'm sure no one else knew what was good for themselves, either; yet, we're all so quick to prescribe.

Most of the time -- though maybe not always -- I think we're the only ones who know best. I think we have a better idea than anyone else. Then again, maybe growing up as an introvert has simply made me suspicious of everyone else's opinions.

Who knows?

 

Shyness Is Not Introversion

I never meant to make it an issue when I began writing this blog, but apparently it's something I feel strongly about. Going through my old blog entries, I've found that I repeat myself a lot on this topic. I often make a point of stating that I'm not shy, and that being introverted does not mean being shy. They're two different things.

Realizing that I keep repeating myself, I try to avoid the subject. But recently I came across an article that illustrates why it bothers me so much.

http://www.livescience.com/health/shy-brain-process-information-differently-100405.html

The article, which is supposedly reporting science, does so in such a non-scientific way as to make everything in it suspect. It not only lumps introversion and shyness together, but it also places all people into just two categories (as if there are only two). I quote:

"Biologists are beginning to agree that within one species there can be two equally successful "personalities."

Really? Is that what biologists agree on? There can only be two successful personalities?

Sigh.

While there might be something to gain from the study itself (also from similar books, such as The Highly Sensitive Person book from a few years back), articles like this are best ignored. Shyness is not introversion, and people who are "sensitive" do not have only one of two successful personalities.

But you decide for yourself.

 

Be Your Own Philosopher

Everyone should have their own philosophy by some point in their lives. Don't be a subscriber. Steal from other philosophies, but don't subscribe to them. Be your own philosopher. Have your own mind.

Here's a philosophy that people will preach: Man is a social animal -- you're meant to be social. Maybe there's some grain of truth in that, but don't believe it. Man isn't one thing or another. You make up mankind just as much as the next person, and you don't have to be social just because someone tells you that you're supposed to be, or that it's best for society in general. They say "we" developed instincts for survival and that one of them is to be "social." Well, "we" also developed you. Your survival indicates that mankind needs you, whether you're social or not.

That word "we", along with that word "mankind", are used in a general sense, taken (perhaps) from an average of us all -- the common denominator. Don't be average. Don't be common. Be the one-of-a-kind that you are. Have your own philosophy.

 

The Shell

Lately, I've been organizing my CD collection and ripping albums -- yes, I know, I'm slow to adhere to change (who owns CD's any more?) -- and I keep noticing certain songs, songs that bring back memories of the nonsense that I went through growing up as an introvert. For example, there's one song by a great band called Supertramp, a song titled "Hide In Your Shell", which takes me right back to high school. Not because of the song itself -- which I quite like, by the way -- but because of the phrase in its title. I can't count the number of times my "shell" was referred to back then. I do know that it was frequent enough to make me wonder whether I did in fact have some sort of invisible barrier erected between myself and the rest of the world; either that or some sort of disease.

Nowadays I know what people meant by it. They thought I was shy, and by "shy" they meant fearful. The nice ones said that they wanted to help get me out of my shell, but they misunderstood me as much as anyone else. I wasn't shy. I don't like that word; most often it means "timid", and that's not an accurate way to describe introverts. I'm not saying that some introverts aren't also shy. I'm saying that the two terms aren't synonymous.

I never considered myself more fearful than the next person. Sure, I was nervous when I gave presentations in front of groups (waiting to stand in front of class was awful); but I was perfectly comfortable talking with people one-on-one. Yes, I became overwhelmed when there was too much socialness, but I wasn't afraid of it -- I just didn't know how to operate in those situations. I was categorized as a timid person, though, and for a long time I thought that really was a problem I needed to fix within myself.

It wasn't.

On the other hand, I probably do have a shell, of sorts. Who doesn't? Mine is not a shell made of fear, however; it's something equally natural, but definitely not anything that needs to be discarded. I think we introverts live "in a world of our own" for two reasons: first, because it's instinct, because that's where we're able to feel most like ourselves, and, second, because we're overly sensitive to the rest of the world, and we're worn out easily by it. Maybe these two reasons are one and the same, actually. We construct limits to help ourselves out, to get ourselves back to our inner "worlds"; we may as well call these limits "shells."

But that's not fear. I'm just as brave, and just as confident, as anyone can be. And I'm just as fearful, too. I'd rather not be boxed into the shy category, though; I'll define who I am and what kind of shell I have. I'm not hiding because I'm afraid. I'm hiding because it's required of me by nature. Or, well, that's more or less what I think, anyway.

If I'd known better back then, I would've questioned my supposed shell less; I would've been more proud of it.

Some lyrics:

Love me, love you
Loving is the way to
Help me, help you
Why must we be so cool, oh so cool?
Oh, we're such damn fools...

-- Supertramp

 

Silence Looks Like Wisdom?

Eh. It's just time for more drawings. Plus, this helps me feel less guilty for not writing regularly.


Silence looks like wisdom

 

A Place To Get Away To

Well, it's been about a month since I last wrote and I suppose that means I'm due for another entry, if only to keep up my average for the year. My latest excuse for not writing more is that I've been in the process of moving. I've hardly had a chance to rest. I sold my house last month, was stranded between places for a week and a half, and finally moved in to my new home two weeks ago. Now that things are beginning to settle down a little, I think it's only fair to use the moving process as an excuse to write here.

See, I moved from a large home in the suburbs to a tiny condo in the midst of downtown. It's a decision that may seem unfitting for an extreme introvert. Why would I move from a place where I could withdraw more easily to a place where I'm practically surrounded by people all day long? I suspect that my choice is a bit perplexing to some. It doesn't seem to suit my personality.

While I had many reasons for choosing to move downtown, none of them involved wanting to be close to the action. I didn't long for more connections or for more activity. Yet I don't think my choice would've been incongruous with being an introvert even if these had been my reasons. Introverts, including the extreme ones, are not necessarily hermits; at least, not all of the time. It's true that the tendency towards seclusion may exist -- as for myself, I would love to have a cabin in the mountains -- but it's not a defining characteristic. Introverts withdraw within themselves, not necessarily to isolated spots in the woods.

On the other hand, I think it's very helpful to have a place to escape to. And maybe that is a defining characteristic. Having a place to get away to (a room, a park, a silent desk, etc.) seems important. My particular place has long been my home. It doesn't matter that it's now located near the frenzy of downtown. I can still get away from it all; I still have a place where I can escape from the world and settle into my own head (which is the primary goal, after all). The separation might not be as vast as it once was, but it works.

Maybe it's true for everyone; maybe we all need a place that offers up some sort of relief. Often that place is home. For me (and for introverts, in general, I think), that place also has to make the rest of the world fade away for a while. It's a place where everything else can be forgotten.

And I think I can have that, even at my new home.

 

The Omniscient Quiet Ones

The Quiet One, from http://abstrusegoose.com

Honestly, I'm posting this because I figured this blog could use some drawings. Something visual. But this comic is interesting, in its own way. It's another one of the common perceptions that people (in general) seem to have about introverts. But this one is hard to complain about.

Often I find that others will interpret my silence as "a knowing silence." As in: "Those who know don't speak." People will read a lot into silence, after all, and sometimes what they read into it isn't so bad. Such perceptions can even become an advantage; I've been known to take advantage of them, at least.

The truth is that silence doesn't necessarily mean anything of the sort. And while I believe there's wisdom in remaining quiet at times, I just don't think there's knowledge in it.

 

What It Takes To Be A Good Sniper

I took off my headphones and was ready to get up to leave the office for the day when a coworker looked over and laughed.

"What?" I asked.

"Apparently you're a good shot?"

"I am?"

And then I noticed the toy guns that some of the other office workers were playing with. Another coworker said, "Yeah, you know: Still waters."

More laughter.

"Oh," I said. "I think I should be offended."

 

Ain't It Good To Be An Introvert

A friend was surprised to learn the other day, during a story I was telling about my youth, that I seemed to have put myself into a lot of social scenarios while I was growing up. And so the veracity of my introverted nature came into question. This has caused me to think back on those days (specifically my grade school years and thereabouts) more than I have in quite a while.

It's true that I could be found doing things that would make it hard for anyone to pinpoint me as the unsocial type. Even nowadays it can be hard to peg me unless you're around me for long enough. (This reminds me of the post that I wrote about spotting introverts; I thought about writing something more in depth about the topic, but then I realized that most of us introverts don't really want to be spotted. Being spotted would interfere with our ability to keep to ourselves, to remain inconspicuous, to have our inner worlds protected. Or maybe that's just me.)

No matter what it looked like from the outside, I had a hard time with my nature when I was growing up. I spent a lot of time trying to figure it out. If I'd listened to the people around me back then, I might have concluded that being quiet and keeping to myself was a bad thing. Peers were often uncomfortable with my quietness, and some were even visibly upset about what probably seemed to them like an insistent unfriendliness. Occasionally people were mean. Others tried to change me. Some acquaintances set out trying to make me more talkative. And, naturally, there were those who simply made fun of my quietness.

Growing up, I didn't know what to make of all this. I instinctually knew that I wasn't doing anything wrong and I felt as though I was just being myself. Sometimes I even resented the treatment I got. But as much as I resisted allowing others to tell me how I should be, I couldn't help wondering if everyone was right. Not only that, but there was no one to model for me how I could operate in a social world. Everywhere I looked, people seemed to need conversation; people flocked together. That was my only model of the world, but not a model that made sense to me. Each of us is left to figure our own selves out, but introverts do so in a way that's even more alone. We do so largely without any clues.

So in an attempt to figure myself out, I would put myself into situations that didn't suit my nature. I worked in jobs that required lots of talking. I lived with roommates. I didn't always say no to group activities; I did enter into group settings, though I was always the silent party. I pushed the boundaries of my social comfort level. Oftentimes these choices overwhelmed me, but I did what I could to alleviate that. And I did so without knowing what I needed (at least not in any rational way). How was I to know that I needed to be able to get away, to be alone, or to retreat to an isolated spot? No one else I knew ever seemed to care whether they escaped the company of others.

Still, I'm glad for many of those learning experiences. I'm not sure if I would know myself as well without having had them. I never attempted to change who I was -- I only strived to know whether I could be anything more; I wanted to know whether what I felt about myself was right (or whether I was simply afraid and shy like everyone told me I was). Rather than learn to be ashamed of my quiet nature because of the rebuke I got, I guess I decided to wear my quietness like a badge. And I learned a lot from my resistance to change. Nowadays, I still push my own social boundaries to some extent, but I choose more carefully. I tend towards smaller social settings, more individual ones. I choose friends who are comfortable with my quiet nature. I moderate my activities and balance my venturing out with enough recuperation time to suit my needs.

But sometimes I think it would've been nice to have had access to some of this knowledge while I was still in my youth. It would've been nice to find others who were like me, if only to know that being like me was okay. It would've been nice to know that I wasn't alone, even when I was.

Because it is okay to be an introvert; in fact, I think it's enviable! If only I had always known how much so!

 

Being Unusually Chatty

A friend from out of town (we'll call him Burma) was visiting this past week, and while we were in the midst of a conversation, his wife (Kate) made a comment to him that caught my attention, a comment that I often hear people make towards me. We were discussing another old friend of ours, and it went something like this:

Burma: I've never been able to get close to him [our old friend]. We never had very personal conversations.

Me: Really?

Kate: Wait, you don't usually have personal conversations. In fact, you're being unusually chatty tonight.

Burma: Well, I'm drunk, so ...

I doubted Burma's story about being drunk, seeing that he was barely halfway through his only bottle of beer, but I was making sure to closely watch his reaction to the comment. I was curious how it made him feel.

See, being told that you're unusually chatty is the same as being told that you're normally not very talkative. I've already mentioned in the past how people tend to point out my quietness; this is the same thing, but perhaps as a more "politically correct" version.

Often when this sort of comment is directed at me, the intensity of my self-consciousness temporarily spikes; I'll probably have a more difficult time staying focused on the conversation at hand. In the past, I would frequently disappear into my thoughts altogether, and trying to get myself back out again to join in with the people around me would be quite difficult. I become more aware of the scrutiny of others, more aware of how my quietness makes others feel, more aware of the process of the conversation (of the body language and facial expressions and the feelings and attitudes that are conveyed), and I become entangled in that web of awareness.

But my friend hardly skipped a beat. He's a much more social animal, so I'm not surprised. I think he's more private than he is introverted, but it was curious to see a little of his wife's perspective of him. Plus, it was nice to hear what he was implying: That he is comfortable enough with me to have personal conversations -- to be chatty, as it were.

As curious as it was to watch someone else deal with a scenario that I regularly face, I did wonder whether I should somehow deflect his wife's comment. And I wondered whether I would have appreciated a deflection. But I had no idea how I could accomplish such a thing, anyway. I'm not that skilled at conversation to begin with!

 

Specialized Literature

Sometimes I think about writing a book that deals with extreme introversion. There aren't very many books on the subject of introversion specifically; while there are some good ones among those that do exist, they tend to be very generalized. They're often written for (or about) anyone who has experienced even the slightest inclination towards introversion. Sometimes these books are generalized to such an extent that they read like horoscopes, allowing anyone at all to relate. What I imagine doing is writing for those of us whose temperaments there is no question about, for those who fall squarely and deeply within the introversion spectrum. It would be about my own experiences, of course, but I imagine it would include a lot of research targeted towards a smaller percentage of the population. The subject matter would be more specialized; it would cover something between moderate and extreme introversion. I feel that an accurate discussion on the subject can't be had without making it much more focused. And how can it be very helpful if it's not accurate?

Anyway, one reason that I'm pondering this today is that I've noticed that a lot of visitors come to this blog by googling the phrase "extreme introvert." I feel a little guilty for not writing anything particularly helpful here, or at least for not writing more regularly. On the other hand, this is only a personal blog; I never meant it to be anything more important than that.

 

Don't Need No Stinkin' Words

From the movie Up:

"You don't say much. I like you!"

From the movie, The Express:

"He's doing a lot without saying nothing." (In reference to Jackie Robinson and how he was making a difference in the world, spoken by a character who struggles with stuttering.)

 

Natural Defenses

With the prevalence of swine flu in the news lately, I can't help but think that introverts would be more likely to survive in the event that such a disaster became more widespread. After all, we tend to come in contact with others much less; thus, we'd simply avoid one of the ways in which we might encounter a virus. It's like a built-in defense mechanism. Introverts may or may not be born rulers, but perhaps we are born survivors.