“Do you know someone who needs hours alone every day? Who loves quiet conversations about feelings or ideas, and can give a dynamite presentation to a big audience, but seems awkward in groups and maladroit at small talk? Who has to be dragged to parties and then needs the rest of the day to recuperate? Who growls or scowls or grunts or winces when accosted with pleasantries by people who are just trying to be nice?”
Hey! That’s me!
I mean, it’s exactly me!
That quote comes from a 2003 article I saved from The Atlantic, back when they didn’t solely publish clickbait. It’s behind a paywall now, but here it is. but here it is.
In my personal experience, to be introverted is to see everyone else as having a superpower or gift of magical insight that I don’t. Those abilities grant an obvious advantage that I don’t have.
It leads to assertions of, paraphrasing, “There’s something wrong with you, but if you work hard enough, you’ll get out of your ‘comfort zone’.”
Such prescriptions miss the point. The condition is not so much a “comfort zone” as it is a neurological reality. It’s medically baked in to who I am. I can no more remove it than I can my heart or lungs. Many people grow energized by mingling in groups of people, and learning about others through “small talk.” For someone like me, there is nothing else that could possibly be more exhausting. There is a, no kidding, physical aversion in the pit of my stomach to engaging in such an activity. Paraphrasing William S. Burroughs, it makes me “feel like I’ve lost a quart of plasma.” I recognize and accept this is probably quite difficult for many to understand. I’ve attempted to find real data on the proportion of introverts to extroverts in the world, but it seems these studies are entirely subject to how the numbers are collected and how one defines the terms. Most of what initially pops up in a search is surface-level pablum.
I’ve truly tried to understand my place in all of this (*waves around broadly*) as a terminal introvert, someone whose temperament is oft-greeted with befuddlement or even disdain. Often the undertaking has involved reading writers such as Kafka, Camus, and Nietzsche. More frequently though, it has involved music. I find myself more influenced by my favorite musicians than by other writers. Rock music is one of my first, and most formative, “literacies.” Can’t change who you are.
Morrissey is delightfully misanthropic. But he’s a jackass (Google him).
Bowie draws me as an “ultimate outsider,” but he was a god among mortals.
And yet I found a few select quotes from him that speak to me:
“The depressing realization in this age of dumbing down is that the questions have moved from, "Was Nietzsche right about God?" to, "How big was his dick?" Make the best of every moment. We're not evolving. We're not going anywhere.”
“People are so fucking dumb. Nobody reads anymore, nobody goes out and looks and explores the society and culture they were brought up in. People have attention spans of five seconds and as much depth as a glass of water.”
Interview featuring that latter quote may be found here.
Those quotes led me to a realization. I’m not opposed to conversation. There are even times when I’ve found myself, in contrast to my previous argument, inspired and energized by having deep, meaningful conversations with others. If you care to note though, that one word is the key: “meaningful.” Not gossip. Not shop. Not stores. Not memes.
Meaningful.
Of course as it is with everything in the course of human interactions, the definition of that word varies, and I certainly have my own. Experiencing it is a rare occurrence for me, so I’m grateful for those I have in my life who gift me with such interactions.
Something else strikes me about it all. I know that in education, faculty are getting a good deal of pressure to adapt how we teach to those who are neurodivergent. So little similar grace and understanding is granted in education, or anywhere else for that matter, to the extremely introverted. It might not be “neurodivergent” in the clinical sense, but it is no less a reality. It looks to me that introversion might be a “final frontier” of sorts in interacting with others.
If you give a damn and want to know more, I recommend, Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking by Susan Cain.
Fun tidbit: Back in the 1990s, Morrissey opened for David Bowie. Morrissey was disappointed that not enough people were showing up his end of the show, so he quit the tour. His band was notified of this departure a mere 20 minutes before a show. Left adrift, they asked to be taken back to the hotel. The tour manager said they could not go.
Morrissey had just left with the tour bus.
Source: My copy of the Mozipedia by Simon Godard.
