Simply Me: The World at my Fingertips

I think I may be crazy. (this is not a poll, so don't start casting your vote) I pretty much have the whole wide world at my fingertips. So many beautiful places and experiences to choose from. I can walk to the Shenandoah river, hike the Appalachian Trail or spend the day roaming around Harper's Ferry. I can go to the theatre with my kids, out to eat Indian food with my husband, play with my beautiful dogs, read any book in the world and watch any film ever made. I could jump on the train and go to Washington DC and see amazing things, architecture, art, museums, history. Unfortunately none of these things interest me because I am obsessed with a strange desire. All I can think about is my overwhelming need to find a bag of Bugles. Remember Bugles, those little cone shaped corn somethings? All I want to do today is put Bugles on the ends of all my fingertips and eat them. Do they even still make Bugles? They should. My kids have to experience this. Did you eat Bugles off your fingertips? If you did, were you a witch, a wild animal with claws or were they glamour nails? If not, what did you eat off your fingers. I am thinking this may say a lot about a person. This could save years of therapy & psychoanalysis. If I can't find Bugles, I guess I will have to settle for a canister of Pringles and make duck lips. Quack.

The Atlantic Monthly | March 2003

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?

If so, do you tell this person he is "too serious," or ask if he is okay? Regard him as aloof, arrogant, rude? Redouble your efforts to draw him out?

If you answered yes to these questions, chances are that you have an introvert on your hands—and that you aren't caring for him properly. Science has learned a good deal in recent years about the habits and requirements of introverts. It has even learned, by means of brain scans, that introverts process information differently from other people (I am not making this up). If you are behind the curve on this important matter, be reassured that you are not alone. Introverts may be common, but they are also among the most misunderstood and aggrieved groups in America, possibly the world.

I know. My name is Jonathan, and I am an introvert.

Oh, for years I denied it. After all, I have good social skills. I am not morose or misanthropic. Usually. I am far from shy. I love long conversations that explore intimate thoughts or passionate interests. But at last I have self-identified and come out to my friends and colleagues. In doing so, I have found myself liberated from any number of damaging misconceptions and stereotypes. Now I am here to tell you what you need to know in order to respond sensitively and supportively to your own introverted family members, friends, and colleagues. Remember, someone you know, respect, and interact with every day is an introvert, and you are probably driving this person nuts. It pays to learn the warning signs.

What is introversion? In its modern sense, the concept goes back to the 1920s and the psychologist Carl Jung. Today it is a mainstay of personality tests, including the widely used Myers-Briggs Type Indicator. Introverts are not necessarily shy. Shy people are anxious or frightened or self-excoriating in social settings; introverts generally are not. Introverts are also not misanthropic, though some of us do go along with Sartre as far as to say "Hell is other people at breakfast." Rather, introverts are people who find other people tiring.

Extroverts are energized by people, and wilt or fade when alone. They often seem bored by themselves, in both senses of the expression. Leave an extrovert alone for two minutes and he will reach for his cell phone. In contrast, after an hour or two of being socially "on," we introverts need to turn off and recharge. My own formula is roughly two hours alone for every hour of socializing. This isn't antisocial. It isn't a sign of depression. It does not call for medication. For introverts, to be alone with our thoughts is as restorative as sleeping, as nourishing as eating. Our motto: "I'm okay, you're okay—in small doses."

How many people are introverts? I performed exhaustive research on this question, in the form of a quick Google search. The answer: About 25 percent. Or: Just under half. Or—my favorite—"a minority in the regular population but a majority in the gifted population."

Are introverts misunderstood? Wildly. That, it appears, is our lot in life. "It is very difficult for an extrovert to understand an introvert," write the education experts Jill D. Burruss and Lisa Kaenzig. (They are also the source of the quotation in the previous paragraph.) Extroverts are easy for introverts to understand, because extroverts spend so much of their time working out who they are in voluble, and frequently inescapable, interaction with other people. They are as inscrutable as puppy dogs. But the street does not run both ways. Extroverts have little or no grasp of introversion. They assume that company, especially their own, is always welcome. They cannot imagine why someone would need to be alone; indeed, they often take umbrage at the suggestion. As often as I have tried to explain the matter to extroverts, I have never sensed that any of them really understood. They listen for a moment and then go back to barking and yipping.

Are introverts oppressed? I would have to say so. For one thing, extroverts are overrepresented in politics, a profession in which only the garrulous are really comfortable. Look at George W. Bush. Look at Bill Clinton. They seem to come fully to life only around other people. To think of the few introverts who did rise to the top in politics—Calvin Coolidge, Richard Nixon—is merely to drive home the point. With the possible exception of Ronald Reagan, whose fabled aloofness and privateness were probably signs of a deep introverted streak (many actors, I've read, are introverts, and many introverts, when socializing, feel like actors), introverts are not considered "naturals" in politics.

Extroverts therefore dominate public life. This is a pity. If we introverts ran the world, it would no doubt be a calmer, saner, more peaceful sort of place. As Coolidge is supposed to have said, "Don't you know that four fifths of all our troubles in this life would disappear if we would just sit down and keep still?" (He is also supposed to have said, "If you don't say anything, you won't be called on to repeat it." The only thing a true introvert dislikes more than talking about himself is repeating himself.)

With their endless appetite for talk and attention, extroverts also dominate social life, so they tend to set expectations. In our extrovertist society, being outgoing is considered normal and therefore desirable, a mark of happiness, confidence, leadership. Extroverts are seen as bighearted, vibrant, warm, empathic. "People person" is a compliment. Introverts are described with words like "guarded," "loner," "reserved," "taciturn," "self-contained," "private"—narrow, ungenerous words, words that suggest emotional parsimony and smallness of personality. Female introverts, I suspect, must suffer especially. In certain circles, particularly in the Midwest, a man can still sometimes get away with being what they used to call a strong and silent type; introverted women, lacking that alternative, are even more likely than men to be perceived as timid, withdrawn, haughty.

Are introverts arrogant? Hardly. I suppose this common misconception has to do with our being more intelligent, more reflective, more independent, more level-headed, more refined, and more sensitive than extroverts. Also, it is probably due to our lack of small talk, a lack that extroverts often mistake for disdain. We tend to think before talking, whereas extroverts tend to think by talking, which is why their meetings never last less than six hours. "Introverts," writes a perceptive fellow named Thomas P. Crouser, in an online review of a recent book called Why Should Extroverts Make All the Money? (I'm not making that up, either), "are driven to distraction by the semi-internal dialogue extroverts tend to conduct. Introverts don't outwardly complain, instead roll their eyes and silently curse the darkness." Just so.

The worst of it is that extroverts have no idea of the torment they put us through. Sometimes, as we gasp for air amid the fog of their 98-percent-content-free talk, we wonder if extroverts even bother to listen to themselves. Still, we endure stoically, because the etiquette books—written, no doubt, by extroverts—regard declining to banter as rude and gaps in conversation as awkward. We can only dream that someday, when our condition is more widely understood, when perhaps an Introverts' Rights movement has blossomed and borne fruit, it will not be impolite to say "I'm an introvert. You are a wonderful person and I like you. But now please shush."

How can I let the introvert in my life know that I support him and respect his choice? First, recognize that it's not a choice. It's not a lifestyle. It's an orientation.

Second, when you see an introvert lost in thought, don't say "What's the matter?" or "Are you all right?"

Third, don't say anything else, either.

8 comments:

Dwayne D said...: I love me some Bugles, do you hear me? They are great if you squirt easy cheese in them :D And yes they still make them. I believe most of the stores locally carry them.; Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Keet said...: ...what is this easy cheese of which you speak of squirting into my Bugles? I shall search the land in earnest. Thanks for the tip, you shameless Temptor.; Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Shasta said...: I love bugles too and now have a craving for them! hmph..thank you soo much Keet. I think my wonderful husband will have to go get some original bugles with a can of easy cheese *original too*!; Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Keet said...: ...and I am thinking if we were to let our easy cheez congeal a bit, we could wear our bugle fingers for much longer! Maybe all day. It's gonna be messy business.; Wednesday, May 14, 2008
justjuls said...: BTW - this is the snack food that freaked Kaitlyn out so bad that we weren't allowed to say the word "horn" when she was about 6/7 years old.; Wednesday, May 14, 2008
girl with a flower tattoo said...: i remember bugles. i enjoyed them quitely (i created a new adjective... or adverb...yeah). i was actually craving bugles recently, so it kind of freaks me out that you just wrote a blog about craving bugles. and why have you not called me or emailed me or like come and brought me indian food??? seriously. i feel neglected. (sigh)

and now i am going out of town... but when i return, i would like it very much if you would join me for a meal at the new restaraunt in charles town.

p.s. i used the bugles to disperse my superpowers. not unlike the way spiderman shoots web from his wrists...
as for other "finger foods," mom always used to put black olives on Danielle's and mine finger tips when she was making tacos - this was always great fun for us, and unlike your strange daughter, my sister and i LOVE black olives.; Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Mary said...: i used to do this....and the duck lips. my kids like doing the duck lips thingy. They also love bugles.; Thursday, May 15, 2008
Big Red Driver said...: Anyone who says they didn't eat Bugles off their fingers is a liar.
Mine were witch fingers.; Thursday, May 22, 2008

Simply Me

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

The World at my Fingertips

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