Quiet: Part 3, The Book

  In Part 1 and Part 2 of my discussion on this topic, I covered how the book (pictured at left) made me think about my experiences as an introvert, now I'm going to cover some of the details of the book itself and why it's worth reading.

What it has going for it:

    The book goes over the science of introverted and extroverted personality types. The author is not a scientist herself, but has done quite a bit of research into the science and spoken to scientists, psychologists, and other experts on the subject. Having these examples, studies, and case studies included is really helpful for people who have never really understood why they are more introverted or extroverted.
    It goes a long way to making a case for a new approach for rearranging education and workplace environments, as well as how we interact and communicate with our peers, partners, family members, coworkers, and others around us.
    It includes backgrounds and case studies on specific individuals in places like Harvard Business School and Silicon Valley, and explains how some introverts overcome some aspects of their personality in order to lead a cause, do a job, or participate in their relationships.
    Unsurprisingly, the book is sympathetic to introverts, but it is not entirely condemning of extroverts. Rather, it condemns the "extrovert ideal" and supports a more balanced or mixed standard. This standard will focus more on allowing each type of individual to demonstrate their strengths rather than expecting or even requiring individuals to show a particular set of skills or personality traits, and condemning them when they don't. It applies to teaching, parenting, hiring, working together, living together, and any aspect of our daily lives and interactions.

Author Susan Cain

Where it is lacking:

    Not enough case studies. The book is nothing but psychological experiments and case studies, but I still felt like it didn't go as deep as it could have or offer as many examples as it could have for some of the topics, especially during the second half of the book.
    I think the book would have benefited from talking about more successful, well-known introverts. It discussed a few, like Rosa Parks, Gandhi, Steve Wozniak, Eleanor Roosevelt, and Warren Buffett, but it could have included more examples, specifically more modern examples that include discussion with the person directly rather than taking details from biographies.

Why it's worth the read:

    If you're an introvert, you can learn more about why your brain works the way it does, why you prefer certain activities and habits over others, and a little bit about how, why, and when you should go out of your introverted comfort zone.

John Lennon
Peace Monument,
Liverpool, UK

    If you're an extrovert, you can learn more about some of the quiet people around you, and how not to take it personally when they don't agree with you or don't want to participate in an activity you suggest. You can learn more about how introverts "shine" and why you should give them the benefit of the doubt when it comes to social norms. 
    Overall, this is a great book for everyone to gain a better understanding of both personality types and how to get the most out of your interactions with each no matter what you're working on--a class project, a client report, a marriage or anything else.

Give peace [and quiet] a chance.
-John Lennon

On Being Quiet: Part 2

  Western culture rewards extroverted behavior--assertive, overbearing at times, jovial, bubbly. When I was kid, everyone commented how smart I was and how great it was that I liked reading a book and drawing when I didn't have any other kids to play with. As I got older, I was pigeon-holed for being too shy, too quiet, and too antisocial. I still made friends. But I didn't have as many friends because I wasn't really shiny and bubbly. I didn't make the first move in the conversation. I didn't like to crack jokes or put myself on display so that others would see how funny I was. You don't get me until you get to know a little better.
    At work, being a person at the point of sale at the cash register and being the receptionist answering the phone and greeting people at the front desk, I also was criticized (albeit more politely and constructively) for being too quiet. Now I know, maybe I shouldn't be in a job where I have to answer the phone or greet people. It isn't that I'm unfriendly, I'm just shy about it.Yes, still. even when it's my job not to be, it's still difficult to pretend to be happy to see a customer or a client when it really doesn't make a difference to me personally if they are there or not. It's not like I worked on commission or like I knew them all really well.
    The last thing I am is phony, which is probably a big reason why I am not very good at small talk with strangers or greeting customers. I am focused on my other tasks and my own thoughts and projects, and having to put on this happy face feels false to me. Some people consider it just being friendly, but I draw a line between what I consider friendly and what I would consider going overboard with vivacity, for me anyway. I will smile and say hello, friendly enough for me, but I'm not going to strike up a conversation about your kids or the weather or the basketball game last night (overly vivacious).
    All this time, I've felt like there was something wrong with me because I wasn't bubbly and giggly and super-friendly and didn't like parties or participating in class or meetings when I didn't have anything constructive to add. Now I realize that there's nothing wrong with me for being that way. It's just how I'm wired, genetically and through my upbringing, and I don't see why I should be forced to be somebody that I'm not.
    I have other valuable traits and skills that are a result of my quietness and I think that people should take advantage of those things and reward and appreciate those parts of my abilities and my personality rather than trying to mold me into something I'm not. I'm not a dog--I'm not going to jump all over you and wag my tail and bark when you come into the room. I don't even do that with people I really care about and know well. I will be polite, but I can't promise anything more than that until we know each other better.

    As a child, I was painfully shy. I am not as shy now, but I will still avoid large groups of people and noise and anything that stresses me out physically. As a child, I was extremely sensitive to this things. I got sick in church once because I became so incredibly nauseatingly claustrophobic surrounded by so many people. I am still claustrophobic in crowds of people (paradoxically, many small spaces are quite comforting to me) and I will start hyperventilating if it gets really uncomfortable, but it occurs more at parties where I'm expected to interact rather than coming out of a movie theater in a massive throng or standing next to people at a concert. I don't know these people and no one is asking me to get to know them. But at a party or a "networking" event or some other social gathering that I'm expected to participate in, that's when the claustrophobia and anxiety sets in.
    While I can now stand up and give a presentation, in front of 5 people or 50, I can't do it off the cuff. I have to have time to prepare. Some of the problems I experienced throughout my education and other situations growing up is because I was expected to adhere to a standard that was set for extroverted people. I am terrible with the Socratic method (used too much in philosophy classrooms considering how many of us are introverts!) because I need more time to process and formulate my answer. I'm not stalling because I don't know it (not every time, at least)--I'm trying to put my thoughts into words and put those words together in a coherent manner. I simply cannot come up with something to say just because you point at me when my hand wasn't raised.

    It's also why I don't like arguing or debating. It's not that I don't have good opinions or interesting insights. I think a lot! I've got plenty! It's just that in an argument, particularly, even a friendly one, trying to follow the other person's line of thought while managing my own and trying to figure out when to respond to their point and when to propose mine is a lot of mental work--if you think about it, those who are able to do this easily are really amazing communicators! I can't formulate my ideas at the same time as I'm digesting the other person's. Which means I lose a lot of arguments. I don't "think on my feet" well. Many people like to assume they win an argument because they are able to speak more forcefully and confidently than their opponent, but this is not always the case. Confidence does not equal correctness. It just means they are better verbal communicators.
    This is why I also prefer writing to speaking. I can take my time to work on a problem or an argument or a topic and add the right details and evidence and background information. I can work at my own pace and I can go back and rework something if it's unclear or if I think of something to add.
    One thing I realized recently is that maybe I should not be looking for a position that requires me to answer phones or greet customers. I may be good at the other "introverted" parts of the position, working individually, organizing dates, projects, files, managing my time, but I am not as good at the "extroverted" aspects which require a more social aspect with strangers that makes me feel uncomfortable and like I am not being myself.
    Part 3 of this series will be focused on the book itself. Why people should read it, where it was really beneficial and where it was lacking. Still haven't decided if I'll do any additional commentary beyond that, but it's given me a lot to write about so far, so it's possible!

“Or at school you may have been prodded to "come out of your shell"- that noxious expression that fails to appreciate that some animals naturally carry shelter wherever they go, and that some humans are just the same.”

  -Susan Cain, Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking

Lonesome Town: Or, How I'm Learning to Stop Worrying and Live Alone

  Living alone is strange. It's been a while since I have lived alone, a little over two years. It takes a little getting used to. I'm also in a different situation than the last time I lived alone: I'm out of school, working full-time, and I have my cat living here. I'm trying to make it a home, not just a place where I keep my stuff, and that's different too. That is expensive, I've discovered. I had some money set aside specifically to help me get some of the essentials, the things that I would need to live here indefinitely. I'm operating under the assumption that I won't be moving out at the end of my lease, also somethign I've never done before. I still kind of feel like that's what people do, for whatever reason. College town, I guess.
    In any case, I've moved most of the stuff from my dad's house up here, and I've got furniture, my furniture that I don't have to give back to anyone after I move out. I am even working on hanging pictures, not just posters or magazine cut-outs, a hold-out habit from my high school days, but actual pictures with frames and everything. It's strange trying to be a real grown-up who pays bills, buys their own groceries, does laundry in the machines in the complex as opposed to at mom's or dad's, and has to cook for themselves because eating out all the time gets so expensive. I don't mind some of it, only I wish it didn't cost so much. I like having all my stuff in one place. I like having some of the responsibility, and I like that when I go home, I don't have to talk to anyone if I don't feel like it.
    The cat is getting used to being here--he's already found the ONE piece of furniture that I hadn't covered with something to prevent it from becoming a scratching post and turned it into a scratching post. But now that I've identified it, he will be SOL. I'll have to get him a scratching post, a real one, that he can do whatever he wants with. Boy, was he terrified today, though! His bowl was *gasp* almost empty when I got home! He sounded a little hoarse actually, like he'd been crying for a while for someone to feed him. I think he really believes that he will starve if he ever completely cleans the bowl, like no one will ever fill it again if he eats it all. I'd really like to get him on a schedule where he gets a proper serving size twice a day, but I have a feeling he might take out his frustration on the ottoman, aka scratching post.
    I mostly like being alone here, alone meaning without people, because while the cat speaks, it's not in English. I can watch whatever I want on TV, I can spend however long I want online, I can eat spaghetti four nights in a row without judgment, and I don't have to worry about anyone leaving the toilet seat up in the middle of the night. But there are times when I feel a little funny about being here by myself. I'm not particularly concerned about burglary being on the second floor and having so many neighbors around all the time, but I worry about getting trapped under a bookshelf with no one to come home and rescue me, or choking on a pretzel and having no one to thump me on the back to help me cough it up.
    This place even feels a little bit big, even with the cat. I wish I had more storage and closet space, but who doesn't? The rooms feel big, the bedroom in particular. I don't have enough stuff to fill the place, and yet I almost have too much. The living room is packed, two bookshelves, two small shelves for movies, the TV, a small kitchen table I'm using as a desk, a loveseat, and a chair. It's not crowded, but it's definitely full. I just don't want to buy something else for the bedroom unless I know I'll use it, and not just for table space.
    It's quiet here, and my plants seem to be enjoying the east and west windows instead of the overpowering sun from south facing windows like they're used to. I really should try to become a better cook, so I can do a little better than spaghetti and cheese for dinner occasionally. But in the meantime, I'll keep sleeping diagonally in my bed because I don't have to share it with anyone, and I'll keep watching TV and watching movies online because no one's going to tell me I should go outside or do something more productive, and I'll keep squirting the cat with the water bottle until he learns that the ottoman is not a scratching post. It's almost bedtime, as I have been a little sick since yesterday and I need to get a little extra rest.

At least it's whole wheat spaghetti, right?

What was your reaction to living by yourself for the first time? 

Fear? Independence? Homesickness? Freedom, at long last? Or something else entirely? 

Share in the comments. 

Yes, I'm now soliciting comments, dear readers. Kindly play along ;)

These Vagabond Shoes

  I was torn as to whether I should write about the quandary of an apartment search I'm still having, or whether to write about a piece of nostalgia I experienced recently. Since I think I will probably manage to wax a little more poetic with the latter, that's where we're headed.
    The little piece of nostalgia I experienced happened at the movie theater last weekend, where I saw 4, count 'em 4, movies. One of which was Friends with Benefits, which takes place in New York City. I had no idea of this as I entered the theater, considering they played up the Hollywood sign scene in the previews so much, but I was elated when I discovered it took place in Old New York. While it doesn't evince the "New York State of Mind" quality that some movies do, When Harry Met Sally or pretty much any Ed Burns directed movie, it prickled at my nostalgia nonetheless. A few years ago, though now it seems much more distant than that, I was going to move to new york. I was going to move there after I finished high school, go to college there, become a big-city girl, find my dream job, fall in love, and publish one of my damn novels if it was the last thing I did.
    Obviously, things didn't quite pan out that way. I stayed in state for college. I have a good job, but not the job I imagined having once I was college-graduated and big-dream bound--publishing, advertising, law office, basically somewhere where you wear a suit and high heels and carry a briefcase and drink martinis after work at happy hour. I live in what I would classify as a large town, as opposed to a world-renowned metropolitan city. I fell in love when I was seventeen (it was a very good year), and I am still unpublished, except for the musings and ramblings I post here at Insistent and Persistent.
    The world sure looks different now compared to when I was 15. I can't imagine having such a competitive job and wearing high heels every day. But I still imagine what my life would be like if I had done what the 15-year-old version of myself wanted me to do. I would probably be living in a crappy apartment, making more money than I am now--but because of the housing costs in Manhattan, it wouldn't really feel like I was making more money. I would probably be reading and watching a lot of movies, which is much of what I do in my spare time here. I would be alone, because I'm afraid of going out by myself to meet people. I wouldn't be friends with my neighbors, or hanging out and getting to know the bartenders and the regulars at a local watering hole. I'm way too shy for that. And considering the types of neighbors I might have, not getting to know them might be for the best.
    It's interesting to think about where you thought you'd be and where you ended up by that age. Things definitely don't work out the way you expected them to. Ever. But I always wonder if that's because life gets screwed up and derailed from time to time, throwing a wrench in your perfect, if not perfectly thought out, plans, or if it's really because you never had the balls to try something terrifying like moving to a city where you don't know anyone and trying, not just to survive, but to succeed.
    I think it's probably a little bit of both--we all know how indecisive i can be, and this is no exception. I think if I put the effort into looking for a job there, I could get one. It might take me a while, but I think I could do it. The apartment might be tougher, but I'd figure something out, even if it meant, god forbid, living in Jersey for a few months. But, we come to the "if it ain't broke" adage in which we reason that: I already have a job, I have a place to stay even if it isn't ideal, I have a relationship, and I'm making it on my own, for the most part. Why would I give all this up for a shot at some pipe-dream nostalgic fancy that's lingered on for eight years? (Eight--god that makes me feel old.)
    The fact is, I wouldn't. Not now. If one of those things seriously fell into disarray, I might revisit the idea. But my life, despite all the complaining I do, is actually going pretty well. The "grass is greener" ideology only applies when the grass on this side of the fence is no longer green, as opposed to when it's green, but not as lush and deliciously deep green as the grass on the other side of the fence.
    So, New York, you'll have to wait. Maybe someday I will meet you again and take you by storm, dazzling you and all your big-wig, pompous, New-Yorker-reading, nicotine-saturated echelon with my brilliance. But for now, I will daydream and write and imagine that you are still as beautiful and chaotic and interesting as you were the last time I saw you all those years ago.

If I can make it there, I'll make it anywhere.

No Time Left For You

Last year, I had too much time on my hands. Much of which was spent surfing the Internet, looking and applying for jobs, playing online games, reading articles--some with merit, some without--and watching a lot of television. But 2011 is the year for too little time. I don't think I've ever been this busy except during my college prep type courses in high school. Even my undergraduate years in college didn't keep me this busy this often--just once a semester near and during finals week.
    I suppose this proves everything is cyclical, and maybe 2012 will give me a little more time to work with. But in the meantime, coping with exhaustion for about 75% of my week is frustrating, because I can't do much about it. I try to go bed earlier, but consequently, I don't finish what I need to finish.
    It's an uncomfortable situation, trying to decide which is your highest priority: school or work (although in my case, it's both), a social life, or sleep.

In a perfect world, all should be doable simultaneously. 

    A person should have enough time to sustain a social life, get enough rest, and do their school/work related assignments, tasks or projects, while still having a little time for herself to read, watch TV, blog, eat three meals a day, et cetera. When there isn't enough time for these basic human necessities (although TV may not be a necessity, I think you can agree that time to decompress and get your mind off all your other worries is), something has gone horribly wrong. It isn't right that people should have to decide which of these things is more important--or worse, which of these things are expendable. More often than not, sleep gets sacrificed first. Sometimes the social life disappears or wanes, but sleep tends to be the first to go. And yet, sleep, and its relativity to good health, is probably the most important of the three. 

    Normally, I'd be the first to say:

"Well, if you can't do it all, you're just not managing your time very well." 

    But even those people with excellent time management skills can fail to distribute their time fairly to each of these areas of life. If I separate each of them out, I can manage my time quite well, and arrange it so that each one gets its due attention, and I can get everything done that needs to be done, on time, and correctly (in regard to school/work related tasks). However, stacking them all together and sorting three things out together makes it much more difficult. I can make schedules; I can set timers for when I should finish tasks; I can arrive at social engagements on time and leave early; I can even add another 15 or 20 minutes to my sleep time by setting the alarm later. Still, all put together, something always ends up taking longer than expected and it throws the whole deal out of whack. 

    Lack of time is a vicious cycle because the more you try to catch up, the more your time passes faster and slips away from you, like trying to grasp at water--it just slides through the openings between your fingers. While some people would probably say that if I'm that busy, why I am spending this time writing a blog that hardly anyone will read? Because writing is one of those things that I do for myself, and without it, I might indeed have more time, but less sanity. So, I'm going to keep the writing, even if I lose a little time to do more homework or, unfortunately, get more sleep.

Dreams and sleep may not be economically productive, 

but the cultivation of wellness and intellect makes them worth it.