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.

 

Me, Regularly

A sudden and total atmosphere of isolation came over him, pervasive and almost tangible, a spell. The others sensed it and stared. The world of solitude closing around him was at that moment impenetrable, a shield, airless, hereditary, penetrating to his bones, his veins.

Excerpt from The Paragon
by John Knowles

 

On Natural Selection

Even though I don't consider myself shy, here's a quote that I find relevant (and amusing):

"Yeah, well, you know, frankly, you're doomed. You and all the other shy people are. Natural selection favors the loud and the aggressive. I don't mean this in a bad way, but genetically speaking you're a cul de sac."

Excerpt from Black Books

 

Reclusive = Easily Forgotten

This morning, a co-worker messaged me briefly. Here's the bulk of it:

She said: Hey, good morning ... so the beard is back huh?
I said: Ya, for the moment
She said: for the moment?
I said: I need to maintain my disguise
She said: well .. you are incognito anyway... no one remembers you work here anymore anyway ;)
I said: That's the plan

Sigh.

Even though I played it off and pretended that it meant nothing, her last statement affected me more than it normally would have. I guess I'm sensitive lately. Usually I would've told myself that it's good to be able to escape from the attention of people so easily. But today I took the statement to mean that my presence/contribution at work is unimportant.

I suppose this comes with being a recluse. Still, I do like to think that my work matters.

 

An Apt Description, Or Perhaps Just A Desirable One

I was chopping vegetables beside her when she brought up a cooking show I hadn't seen. I told her that I don't have cable.

"What!" she said. "Do you live in a bubble?"

I ignored the question for a minute or two and resumed chopping. I thought of the picture I have in my bedroom, the one depicting a group of people standing atop a bubble as it floats over a rocky beach and the sun sets behind it.

"Yes," I said after a while, "I guess I do sort of live in a bubble."

 

Silence Equals Consensus?

There was diversity training at my office the other day, and it was painful (not because of the topic, only that it's so tedious). Everyone else was a good sport about it, but I wanted badly to leave. In any case, the instructor made a statement during the three hour session that seemed appropriate to mention here. She said, "Silence means consensus." I'm taking her statement out of context, of course, but I've heard this phrase used before and I don't agree with it. The point being made is this: if you don't speak up about someone's "wrong" behavior, then you're accepting of it and possibly even complicit in encouraging it. For instance, if someone is using derogatory or stereotypical terms when discussing others, not calling the person on it is the same as agreeing with it. But I think there are many other reasons why a person might remain silent.

A person might:

• See their silence as a rejection of the behavior, and their lack of participation, verbal or otherwise, is evidence of that;
• Think the behavior is unacceptable by personal standards, but realize that in most cases people should be entitled to their beliefs, however idiotic and wrong-headed they may be;
• Be lost in thought about it;
• Just not care to contribute anything;
• Be in shock;
• Have more important things on their mind, like what kind of groceries to get later or what to do once the weekend arrives;
• Plan to send a written note rather than discuss matters openly;
• Or any number of things.

What's funny is how much emphasis the instructor put on being open-minded. And yet she was quick to jump to conclusions about a person's silence. I'd say that is very judgmental. What is it about silence that troubles people so much?

 

A Fun Way To Plead For Silence

What? Silence offends you? You feel you have to make conversation?

Quoted from Northern Exposure
By the wonderful character, Adam
In the episode, "The Bumpy Road to Love"
Season 3, Ep. 1

 

So Called Introverts

It's nearly impossible to identify for sure who is and who isn't an introvert. Even an extreme introvert is hard to spot at times. Take myself as an example. Every social activity that I partake in makes it more difficult for people to peg me. Even venturing out into the world helps create a blurry image of the type of person I am. My own claims to be one of the more extreme introverts you'll ever meet mean nothing. And I can't blame anyone for not believing me. After all, I don't believe others who make similar claims!

I hear it all of the time. A friend once told me that he considers himself to be introverted. If my facial expression didn't convey my disbelief, I think I said something like, "You?" He's one of the most outgoing and social guys that I've befriended. He's nearly always talking and joking with someone, and often he's either the life of a party or its clown.

As another example, I've heard many celebrities make the same claim, actors who are apparently creating a ruckus in public every day and who seem to crave attention from news and media -- not for work or to garner publicity for a film, as far as I can tell. Although I don't know them personally and could never say for certain, their claims seem to defy believability.

I realize a wide spectrum may exist for introversion, but sometimes I'm forced to wonder if anyone truly understands what it means. Other times, I begin to think that claiming to be an introvert has become fashionable, that everyone wants to "join the club". I should probably be reluctant to call myself one.

Though it sounds very elitist, perhaps I should come up with some guidelines on spotting real introverts. Or the extreme ones, at least.

 

Ragging

I can take some ragging. Anyone with even a slight sense of humor should be able to. And, if one particular subject has been the impetus of the ragging for your entire life, you should be used to it by now. So it is with my quietness. But I still like to document it, if only to illustrate how regular it is.

I'm on my way out of the office at the end of the day, nodding and saying a few goodbyes, when one of my teammates says, "Good chatting with you today," the joke being that I'd said not one word to him. These have become common parting words from him during the last several weeks. This from a guy with whom I've worked closely for the last seven years, with whom I've enjoyed many lunches and activities unrelated to work, whose family I know and whose home I've been to.

You'd think some jokes would get old. But maybe the humor is in how old they are.

 

The Relief In Solitude

Freedom, in my eyes, involves settling into the void, a place where no one can detect me, being able to disappear and feel that I don't exist to others. Freedom involves breaking free of the chains and shackles that emanate from the awareness of others; it involves no longer feeling self-conscious. There is such relief in being alone.

 

Why Not Speaking Is Better

The other day at the office, a coworker walked by my cubicle while showing a potential employee around. As she made her rounds, she introduced everyone to the candidate. When she got to me, she told the said candidate my name and then she said about me: "He's shy."

Why do people do that? Why try pointing out a person's most prominent character trait?

First of all, I'm not shy -- I'm an introvert. I felt like replying rudely, "I'm not shy. I just don't like you."

Secondly, it doesn't take much creativity or intelligence to frequently make note of a readily observable feature. It's like remarking that the sky is blue. Every single day. And if I were to take up the same habit, it would be the equivalent of introducing people thus: "Hi, this is Sally. She's fat." Or, "I'd like you to meet Bob. He never shuts up."

For extreme introverts like myself, I'm sure this is a common occurrence. In fact, this happened last week as well. Another coworker was showing someone around the office and, when she got to me, said, "He doesn't talk, so you'll never hear from him."

What the hell?

Sure, people think they're funny, but really they're just being insensitive and dull. It would be better if they said nothing at all. At least their silence would be a kindness to us all.

 

Keys To The Soul

I was watching a favorite show of mine the other night, Northern Exposure, and in this particular episode one of the main characters loses his voice. He later laments the loss of his voice by quoting Voltaire -- I believe it was this quote: "Poetry is the music of the soul, and, above all, of great and feeling souls" -- and, taking it further, by saying that the voice is the bridge to other people's souls, that without it we are alone in this world.

This struck me as a sad and typical view. It could be interpreted as saying that the souls of introverts are shut off from others. At the least, it portrays being alone as an undesirable thing. But why must it be undesirable? It can be wonderful! Also, there are other routes to the souls of others. There are many ways to communicate and there are far worse things than not being able to speak to people. In fact, it could be said that many of the troubles in life occur because we speak too much!

Anyway, I haven't written in a while and I figured I'd jot down these simple thoughts. Nothing serious. I'll try getting into more of a groove here.

 

Defeating My Purpose

Here I am, attempting to document my thoughts about what it's like to be an extreme introvert, while every word that I write seems to discredit what I claim to be; after all, words and introverts don't seem to belong together. The fact that these are written words and that they remain unspoken means little. I'm releasing these words rather than hanging on to them, setting them free rather than storing them inside, pouring them forth rather than bottling them up. I'm defeating my purpose with every keystroke.

And yet my claim remains the same. The irony involved in sharing my thoughts is likely to make my credentials hard to understand - if not believe - but that's an integral part of being me. I still intend to put together this collection of notes. Whether my words work against me or not, I believe they are still true and honest.

Maybe they'll also carry some insight with them.