bironic

... because it seems like LJ has once again become sweet and pliant, but I don't trust it. ;)

For a start, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for posting this, and even more for steering me towards the original 2003 article when it came out. Rauch has been very important to me. I remember first beginning to realise that shyness and introversion - both of which have always been part of my life - were separate, and that the latter wasn't something to "work past" or "get over". Shortly before Rauch's article came out, I was working at a yoga retreat centre for a few weeks over the summer, and I ended up making friends with two very social, interesting, friendly women. One day one of them spotted a book on introversion in the retreat's shop, and in the conversation that followed we all "came out" to each other... as closet introverts. :) It was immensely comforting, especially once I'd read Rauch's analysis. I'd known I was an introvert before then, and even known in theory - thanks to my psych-major friends, largely - how that worked, but it didn't seem real and applicable to my life the way the article and this interview do.

And just some bits of the interview I particularly love - this first quote starts with the interviewer's comment:

I guess it probably hit me in seventh grade when somebody told my older brother, "You know, Sage could be popular if she talked more." Of course, he reported this to me, and I started to brood over it.

-That is so unjust. Isn't it?

Yeah—chattiness suddenly seemed like the key to social success and happiness.

-That story so sums up the kind of extrovert hegemony that can make life miserable. I think it's particularly hard for girls and women. "You'd be so much more popular if you'd talk more." It seems to me that the world would be a much better place, and that people would be much more rightly popular, if they talked less. Because so little of what most people say is actually worth hearing.

Yes! It's not just the assumption that everyone SHOULD talk as much as possible, but that anyone CAN decide to just "talk more", the way they might decide to floss more. And even the assumption that silence is malicious, as if introverts were deliberately "holding out" on the rest of the world. It's wonderful to know that other people have been just as upset and shaken by comments like, "Why are you so quiet?", "Don't you ever say anything?", "People are going to think you're stuck-up if you don't talk more," or even, "Don't you know how to talk?"

I also definitely sympathised with the interviewer's comment that, "I almost imagine that other people's brains are endowed with some kind of fast-acting comment-generating engine." I've felt that way a lot, particularly in class; I try to participate and ask questions, but I've never really understood how other people can listen, take notes, absorb and integrate new information, and then formulate conversation on top of that! Rauch's observation that conversation - particularly unstructured social interaction where you could talk about anything, so topics are difficult to come up with - requires more "positive cognition" from introverts rings very true. I also found it interesting when he said that some differences between introverts and extroverts can be seen in brain scans; it reminded me of what my old therapist told me once, about the fact that when introverted children are exposed to new situations, their heart rates actually drop until they've adjusted. Extroverted children's pulses race in new circumstances.

The idea that a more urban lifestyle and a more service-oriented economy where socialising is very important favours extroverts more than previous cultures did is interesting. Margaret pointed out to me a while back that the same urban lifestyle favours people who are comfortable being alone, which I think is true, but it also favours people who can make small talk fluently and form bonds quickly (because the social scene is more fluid, you aren't put together with the same circle over and over until you all get to know each other).

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Yay!

Just wanted to add that I love Rauch's summation: "We love people—we're not misanthropic for the most part. We just can't socialize with them all the time. We want to hold their hand or hug them or just sit quietly and read a book with them."

Here's to improved diplomatic relations between introverts and extroverts from this day forth. :)

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Heh. Except I for one am more misanthropic than Rauch cares to admit, and I don't know whether that's a function of introversion. I don't necessarily want to hold hands or hug people. Reading next to them sounds nice, though. I don't think Rauch mentioned it but someone in those articles did -- that introverts are prone to overexcitement when stimulated. For me, someone walking by and touching my shoulder is a strong stimulus. If it's someone I dislike or someone I've just met, I'll shy away or be internally disturbed. If it's someone I like and know well enough, I'll smile or be internally thrilled. That's where the misanthropy comes in -- I won't want to touch certain people or be touched, talk to them or be addressed by them, and so forth, and thus avoid those stimuli much of the time. (

synn probably has something to say on this.) Either way, as an introvert I often dwell on the littlest interaction or touch for a long time after it's occurred, and it takes a long time to settle down from them.

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I don't think Rauch mentioned it, but I know what you mean. I remember hearing that there's actually a chemical released in the brain in response to (all kinds of) stimulus, and introverts have naturally higher levels of the chemical. So, the levels of stimulation that extroverts NEED to get their brain-chemical (this would sound so much smoother if I could remember what it was called) levels up cause the level of the same chemical in introverts to become too high, and they feel strung-out and overstimulated.

I tend to really like touch, but I do sometimes feel like it's more... significant to me, I suppose, than to a lot of people, much the way you describe. So I can also really dislike being touched by someone I don't like, and sometimes I freeze up when someone touches my shoulder or hugs me - not out of distaste, but because I can't immediately process the feelings it brings up. I've actually tried to train myself to relax under someone's unexpected touch, so that they don't worry they've done something wrong.

Of course, a tendancy to overstimulation isn't the same as misanthropy, but it's always possible to have both. :) Nor do I think a desire to be alone is necessarily misanthropic.

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Yay neuroscience. I'm not sure which chemical it is, but it couldn't be too hard to find out.

I also tend to like touch, but as you say, it's more significant/affecting for us introverts than for "normal" people, so when I don't like it, I *really* don't like it. But yeah, most of the time I'm really pleased when a friend or teacher or colleague or whoever rests a hand on my shoulder or reaches out for a hug. I mean, I can remember instances of being touched by people I like in the most innocuous, fleeting ways, years and years ago -- steering me by the elbow in the hallway, touching my arm while crossing the street after class, you name it.

Of course, a tendancy to overstimulation isn't the same as misanthropy, but it's always possible to have both.

Sure, and introversion can contribute to misanthropy for those so inclined, hearing constant nonsensical chatter and seeing what's interpreted as gross insensitivity.

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It's not a particular chemical, it's overall electrical potentiality of the brain. Introverts have more internal stimulation at any given time than extroverts. There's a theory that states that there is a natural "bliss point" - the point at which the electrical stimulation of the brain is neither too little or too much. The theory is that introverts are naturally closer to this point, so they require less stimulation to reach the bliss point than do extroverts.

And I'm becoming more and more confused as to my own profile - I have a lot of the introvert's difficulties with making small talk; I absolutely hate unstructured social situations with strangers. Sometimes I'll shut down and feel tongue-tied and awkward, but sometimes I'll babble and say too much. However, this might have less to do with my natural introversion/extroversion than with the pressure to be witty, charming, and significant.

I think the acid test is whether, after a long hard day when you feel worn out, you want to come home and be alone or you want to come home and be with people. In that situation, I fall heavily on the extrovert side.

And my point in my post wasn't so much that society favours people who can be alone, but that society tells you there's something wrong with you if you're not completely and totally independent. Needing to be with people is seen as weak, and the ultimate goal of society is to have "your own space." That's an introvert's goal. I can have "my own space" for about twenty minutes before I get bored and itchy and want to have a party.

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Is the ultimate goal of society to have your own space? Watching commercials on prime time TV (my best connection to mainstream America) I get the sense rather that things are still geared toward having a happily functioning family.

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True, but what's looked on as a "luxury" - the ultimate enjoyable good time?

An enormous house.

On a quiet street.

Far away from the noisy, populated city.

With a car all your own.

Where you can sit and play music.

And hit the open road.

And feel independent and free.

And on a day-to-day basis, apart from those general lifestyle issues, what are the luxuries?

A bubble bath. Alone.

A cookie. Alone. (witness Pepperidge Farm's package advertising - all in the language of "food is for you to indulge yourself" rather than "food is a social event.")

American society makes a god out of individualism and self-sufficiency. These are solitary pursuits. You are celebrated for not needing to rely on anybody, and relationships that "threaten independence" are looked on as suspect. Pampering yourself is ALWAYS portrayed as "getting away from it all," rather than "getting together with friends." "Me time" is sacrosanct - and universally viewed as rejuvenating.

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I'm pretty sure I could come up with a counter example to each of yours if I paid enough attention to TV and remembered everything when I sat down to reply. But for now--

An enormous house filled with your loved ones. A car that you drive in with your family, or your boy- or girlfriend, or your friends, or alone in between seeing your family/boy- or girlfriend/friends. Restaurants are invariably advertised as places to go to socialize with large groups of friends or be romantic with your S.O., never by yourself; that makes you in some way deficient. Cell phones -- though they're not an excellent example since they are by nature social devices -- are sold with incredible amounts of talk time, call-waiting and other features that assume a huge and constant stream of chatter.

America may be about individualism and the pursuit of solitary success or hobbies, but people are pressured to enjoy them as part of a social network. Relationships that threaten you are to be avoided, but you are expected to have a relationship. Some commercials place value on solitary pampering while others emphasize the outings, the parties, the family gatherings, the running and yelling and laughing and playing/sporting, as the energizing and vital parts of life.

Like I mentioned before, I really think it's a matter of perception. As a mostly-introvert I tend to notice society's seeming preference for extraversion, and for you it's the other way around.

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(Fair warning -- this has to be done in 3 posts because it's so long. *sheepish grin*)

For a start, you're welcome! Was it I who steered you toward the article the first time? I don't remember. I do remember finding the link off R.J. Anderson's blog (http://synaesthete7.livejournal.com/) just before Convention Alley.

Anyway.

The "girls and women" comment is so true. For years I felt inadequate in social situations because I attributed my hesitance to speak up & out & frequently as some sort of feminine weakness--perhaps because listening is receptive, passive. It's still very difficult to shake this feeling, especially when you know that other people are going to assume it to be true, consciously or not. And I am shy. But I'm also more comfortable observing and listening than inserting mundane jabber into conversations or forming instant opinions or firing back rebuttals. (Not that I can't and don't do all of these things—it just takes far more effort.) The interviewer said, "It's too bad it's not more acceptable to go to a party and just kind of soak things up." I used to think it was a writer thing on my part, the soaking-up, drinking-in, observing, listening, cataloguing for later retrieval and pondering. Maybe it's both.

I can and do have substantial, excited conversations with people, but it tends to be one-on-one or in small groups of people I either know well or who have interests in common. This isn't a new discovery. But then there was this passage in the interview, which I found most intriguing on my second read-through just now:

"The weather's not interesting. But once an introvert gets on a subject that they know about or care about or that intrigues them intellectually, the opposite often takes hold. They get passionately engaged and turned on by the conversation. But it's not socializing that's going on there. It's learning or teaching or analyzing, which involves, I'm convinced, a whole different part of the brain from the socializing part." (my italics)

I've never thought of it that way before--that even when we're stimulated enough to have a passionate discussion, it's still not really socializing so much as using people--no, that's too harsh--ignoring, or glossing over, or rising above, the socializing aspect--or forging that bond that introverts need in order to establish friendships/relationships--by getting at the subject material. Sorry, my thoughts are cluttered. (See? Introvert. Need time to process.)

It's wonderful to know that other people have been just as upset and shaken by comments like, "Why are you so quiet?", "Don't you ever say anything?", "People are going to think you're stuck-up if you don't talk more," or even, "Don't you know how to talk?"

Ouch on that last one. No one has been that rude to me, but people have interpreted my lack of constant prattle as shyness, snobbishness, egotism and depression. Now that you mention it, I remember once at a high school graduation party (not the same one where the news about the teacher affair rumor reached me, if you're wondering; it was a summer of revelations :) ), someone told me that a mutual friend, one of the most intelligently opinionated people I've known and whom I frequently found intimidating, was himself intimidated by me, presuming that because I talked little my head was full of profound thoughts. That conversation also included well-meaning advice that I ought to talk more and share these brilliant insights, because I would find it easier to make friends and have good conversations.

(cont.)

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Yes, I've felt that way about having my silence interpreted as a feminine unwillingness to speak my mind, particularly in an academic setting. (That's partly my shyness, as well.) I end up feeling immensely grateful to the more extroverted women around me for "representing" me.

And I always thought of wanting to sit and listen to people's conversations as a writer thing, too. I think perhaps wanting to watch people and absorb their conversation, being fascinated by them, is a writer thing, but how we do it - whether we process by watching and listening, or by participating - is the introvert/extrovert divide. I was also mystified for several years when I was younger about why my "being a good listener", which is supposed to be such a rare gem of a quality, never seemed to be enough in social situations...

I admit, I was a little disturbed by Rauch's contention that even when we introverts do get caught up in conversation, it's the information and ideas, not the person, that interest us. Perhaps it was the way he described it, but it seemed much too cold and too detached, more like the way an autistic person functions in society than just a characteristic of introversion. He seemed to be cutting the human element out of the equation entirely. You mention that maybe introverts forge the bonds they need before they can connect to people by getting at the subject matter - that seems like a more balanced analysis to me, one that incorporates the introvert's tendancy to like discussing ideas with an actual desire for human connection and company. I know everyone has that desire in different amounts, but a complete lack of it would strike me as disturbing.

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Yes, I realized it sounded too cold about people being secondary to the subject matter, and the way you phrased it is better: meeting and caring for people through shared interests, gotten at through conversation (see, your phrasing is still better). I do think it's to do with the combination of engaging subject matter and human connection, and each being necessary for the other. For me, it's not "talking" that's always draining, it's talking emptiness -- chit-chat, repetition, things we know already, etc. Talking about something with substance that I know about or am interested in can be energizing -- or at least, energizing enough to counter the drain of having the conversation.

Ack, making no sense.

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I also definitely sympathised with the interviewer's comment that, "I almost imagine that other people's brains are endowed with some kind of fast-acting comment-generating engine." I've felt that way a lot, particularly in class; I try to participate and ask questions, but I've never really understood how other people can listen, take notes, absorb and integrate new information, and then formulate conversation on top of that!

It's not only the fast-acting comment-generating engines that amaze me, it's the ones who manage to be coherent at it. I'm awfully envious of people who can come up with really brilliant answers, quickly.

But oh God, yes. I hate--HATE--being put on the spot. This is not shyness talking. It takes me a while to order my thoughts, to formulate responses that aren't strictly facts (Jeopardy-style questions are a cinch). I never wanted to be called on if my hand wasn't raised. Some teachers--I might say most--didn't understand why. 'She's a bright kid,' you could see them thinking, 'writes excellent papers, so if she's not volunteering she must be shy/indifferent/in need of a little prodding/etc.' When I think about this I remember two classes in particular: AP English in high school, when our teacher insisted on making us all "think on our feet" as if we could be trained to spit back insights at a moment's notice and called on students to explicate poems and interpret meanings and express opinions immediately after we'd first encountered the material; and Media Law & Ethics at college, where class debate and open discussion (no hand-raising, no moderation, just a free-for-all) on spur-of-the-moment topics was a significant portion of the grading system and a major source of stress for me. I couldn't process information that quickly and often was at a complete, humiliating loss for words if called on, which both teachers assumed was due to shyness and needed to be overcome. But I wouldn't have had a problem sharing my opinion with the class—I just didn't have time to think about what my opinion was. For Media Law, by the time I formed a cogent response, the discussion had moved on. And it was difficult to inject my own statements into a large-scale, unmoderated conversation on top of all that.

I tried to talk with my professor about it but he wasn't in the least sympathetic. If only I'd had Rauch's work on hand to understand what was going on and arm myself with the vocabulary to challenge my professor's methods at that office hours visit. (I still imagine from time to time how that talk would have gone, and think he would have countered with the argument that journalists need that sort of trait to survive in the profession.)

Incidentally, a friend of mine who was in a management program at school once told me that they were being trained to wait a certain number of seconds (down to an equation!) at a meeting after asking a question and before moving on so the introverts present would have sufficient chance to respond.

I also found it interesting when he said that some differences between introverts and extroverts can be seen in brain scans; it reminded me of what my old therapist told me once, about the fact that when introverted children are exposed to new situations, their heart rates actually drop until they've adjusted. Extroverted children's pulses race in new circumstances.

Since reading that original article I've wanted to know what those tests were that he referred to. Haven't been able to find any, and it seems he can't remember where they came from. The heart rate thing is surprising; mine tends to jump when I'm in new situations, unless I'm misreading body signals and it's actually dropping, along with breathing rate, I suppose, as adrenaline or something kicks in.

(cont.)

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Yeah, I'd think that BOTH introverts' AND extroverts' pulses would race in that situation - novelty can be either exciting or terrifying, but the physiological symptoms of both emotions are close to identical.

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I tried to talk with my professor about it but he wasn't in the least sympathetic. If only I'd had Rauch's work on hand to understand what was going on and arm myself with the vocabulary to challenge my professor's methods at that office hours visit. (I still imagine from time to time how that talk would have gone, and think he would have countered with the argument that journalists need that sort of trait to survive in the profession.)

Yeah, I have to admit, I'm conflicted about that. I hate being called on out of the blue - and my being at a loss for words, like yours, isn't an indicator that I haven't been paying attention or don't understand, which a lot of teachers haven't realised. And I can't believe you were graded on your ability to insert your own opinions into a complete free-for-all discussion; that's incredibly unfair! That just seems to reward noise and aggression over ideas, eloquence, or even persuasiveness. It's like telling you your paper can only be graded once you've pushed your way through a line of yelling, shoving varsity athletes to hand it in.

But in a broader sense, do you think that it's ever a teacher's duty to train introverts to behave more like extroverts, if they know their students will be heading out into an extrovert-friendly world (and particularly an extrovert-friendly profession)? It seems kind of unfair either way: on the one hand, if you make participation mandatory and part of the grade, you're judging your students based on something that's not strictly an academic skill (because you're not judging them on their ability to articulate their ideas, the way an oral exam, a presentation, or a formal debate would; you're judging them on their ability to articulate those ideas quickly and aggressively in a social setting). On the other hand, if you don't force the introverts in your class to participate in more extroverted way, you risk leaving them unprepared if that kind of participation will be expected of them later (and it probably will). I still hate class discussion, especially free-for-all. It's never going to feel natural for me. But I might not be able to do it competently at all if several bastards of teachers hadn't made it a large percentage of my grade. :)

Incidentally, a friend of mine who was in a management program at school once told me that they were being trained to wait a certain number of seconds (down to an equation!) at a meeting after asking a question and before moving on so the introverts present would have sufficient chance to respond.

See, THAT makes a lot of sense, particularly as the company wants to get its money's worth out of the bright introverts it hired, so it's in the company's best interest to make sure those people are able to contribute.

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There is something to be said for career training in class, especially in vocational studies like journalism (as opposed to the liberal arts, where if you're trained for anything it's for staying in academics). I have considered this, and nevertheless I've come up with a few rebuttals: (1) this class was about Media Law & Ethics, not extroversion training, for which they could have forged a separate course for journalism majors teaching them how to be effective at press conferences, on interviews, in crowds and so forth; (2) there was a structured debate once for which we had to prepare, also for a grade (and I don't want to get into what he did to me on that one); (3) not every professor taught the course like mine did, nor was there a note of the differing teaching methods in a section description; and -- here's the kicker -- (4) by the time we graduated, the course was changed from small discussion sections to one large lecture-style class.

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Oh, and (5) -- I don't think he realized what he was doing. That is, I don't think he encouraged structured and unstructured debate as a deliberate attempt to flush out and "toughen" the students he saw as shy and weak; I think he took it for granted that all students are ideally situated to participate in discussions like that, and those who hold back, who need time to digest information and prepare responses, are weaker and need correction, with low grades as the only motivation.

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Hmmmmm... my only quibble would be with your first point, because you could equally say that essays in, for example, a history class should not lose points for style and grammar, as it's a course in history and not in English. But the fact that the course layout and style differed so much between professors and over time makes that amount of emphasis on discussion unfair, and the inclusion of a formal debate should be enough to strengthen students' articulation skills. And the fact that the professor didn't realise that that kind of atmosphere would be extremely difficult for some is a major failing on his part as a teacher.

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Margaret pointed out to me a while back that the same urban lifestyle favours people who are comfortable being alone, which I think is true, but it also favours people who can make small talk fluently and form bonds quickly (because the social scene is more fluid, you aren't put together with the same circle over and over until you all get to know each other).

I remember seeing some of that conversation on her blog and thinking that naturally, the extroverts would resent the ways in which the culture favored introversion, and vice versa. We notice what makes us uncomfortable. I dread making phone calls, attending meetings and parties, and making small talk with most of my co-workers (some exceptions), whereas in my place Margaret might dislike sitting in a quiet cubicle most of the day and communicating with clients mainly over email.

And because this response just isn't long enough --

Reading and gathering literature on introversion helped me explain to certain people how I tick, how they can interpret my behavior and how they can keep from irritating me. It was particularly helpful last year in teaching my dad how to "care for his introvert" when he was driving me crazy and thought my silences and outbursts (when the pressure got too high from all his stupid chitchat and interruptions and constant need for company and...) meant I hated him. I had to explain to him, for example, that when he comes home and hollers Hello from the door downstairs, I don't yell back not because I'm upset but because it's too tiring to gather up the energy to do it; I'd rather walk downstairs and say hello, or wait till he comes up.

He read what I gave him like a good sport and has made concessions to help me feel more comfortable (and vice versa). However, he still believes introversion is a faulty personality trait that needs correction. Rauch called it "this lazy assumption that if you're not an extrovert, there's something wrong with you." Unfortunately, in his case it isn't lazy; he's thought about it. I haven't been able to articulate to my dad how "inability to be comfortable for long around excessive stimuli," where "excessive" has a lower threshhold for introverts than extroverts, is an alternative natural state rather than a flawed, less tolerant version of extroversion/normalcy. As though I/we need to buck up, get real and be less sensitive.

Rauch also said, "Extroverts really have a hard time 'getting' it. And even when they do get it, they still have a hard time modifying their behavior." The first part isn't news. And as for the second, just before I came up here to write this, for instance, despite the little bulleted lists and explanations from psychologists I gave him all those months ago with tips like "give 15 minutes' warning on any tasks that need doing" or "don't talk while your child is concentrating on a book or television program" (paraphrasing), my dad peppered me with questions while I was trying to read a short story.

P.S. A lot of the articles out there focus on the correlation between introversion and giftedness; there's a positive relationship between intelligence and introversion in the population, though they're not sure which feeds the other. It's good reading. Some of the links I saved are http://cfge.wm.edu/documents/Introversion.html, http://www.theintrovertzcoach.com and http://self-improvement.mindfocus.net/index2.html.

(the end!)

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I hate talking to strangers. And I hate stupid small talk when I'm trying to work. I hate it when people come up and talk to me when I'm clearly trying to read/write/watch Law and Order. And I'd prefer to communicate important topics over email, so that I can get my thoughts together, articulate them well, and make sure I don't leave anything out.

I think my conversation anxieties come from the fact that I'm an extrovert raised by a family of introverts. I want to be talking to people and bonding with people, but I grew up in an environment where I didn't learn how. You didn't MAKE small talk. If you did make small talk, you were made to feel foolish for prattling on. My parents would often tell me to "stop talking just to hear your brains rattle." I hate sitting around silently with people, especially if I don't know them well, and I bond primarily by chatting a mile a minute with people, but I have this immense pressure to not say anything stupid or trivial. So instead I've developed this weird hybrid system where I make random comments (rather than asking questions, which feels awkward to me, because, as an extrovert, I'm very sensitive to other people's moods and so am constantly worried about offending them and being loud and disruptive and monopolising the conversation - another byproduct of being an extrovert raised by introverts) and hope that something clicks and the talking becomes more natural.

A conversation is rarely, if ever, draining for me, unless it's an intellectual topic and my brain is fried. I find trivial conversations DEPRESSING, but they do help push away the utter panic that comes with being alone. And a meaningful conversation is *doubly* stimulating, because it pushes both my "engaged intellectually" buttons and my "extrovert bonding" buttons.

Self-aware extroverts, most of whose friends/family are introverts, are worried about being "needy," "babbling," "dependant," "pushy," "obnoxious," "monopolising," "steamrolling," and so on.

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as an extrovert, I'm very sensitive to other people's moods

That's unusual -- I'd guess this isn't your nature as an extrovert but instead one of the consequences of having been raised by introverts, of being what you call a self-aware extrovert. In my experience it's the introverts who are acutely sensitive to other people's reactions and the extroverts who seem (to us) to blunder ahead without picking up on subtle cues of non-verbal or verbal expression. It seems like you've had to develop the skill or risk being reprimanded.

a meaningful conversation is *doubly* stimulating, because it pushes both my "engaged intellectually" buttons and my "extrovert bonding" buttons.

Whereas I'm willing to endure an extended conversation for the benefit of connecting with someone, or talking about a really interesting topic.

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...rather than asking questions, which feels awkward to me, because, as an extrovert, I'm very sensitive to other people's moods and so am constantly worried about offending them and being loud and disruptive and monopolising the conversation - another byproduct of being an extrovert raised by introverts...

This is interesting, because - and I think you and I were talking about this some time ago - as an introvert, I really need people to ask me questions, particularly when I first meet them. I tend to prefer talking about the other person's life and ideas at first, and I feel as though I'm awkwardly forcing my opinions and experiences into the conversation if I start spouting off about myself without an invitation. As a result, people often don't know very much about me, beyond where I'm from and what I'm studying, in the first few conversations. That can be a problem, because it often means I haven't made an impression and they won't necessarily seek out my company later on.

I can't speak for all introverts, but I don't usually mind someone else monopolising the conversation. It gives me a break, and what they say provides guidelines for what I can contribute. I hate thinking up topics to discuss.

Do you think the flow of extrovert small talk that Rauch describes in the interview would come easily to you if you'd never been told that small talk was worse than being silent? Or would you still be depressed by conversations that weren't about big ideas?

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That's very irritating about your dad; I suppose it's good that he's allowed you to convince him that your silences don't mean you're angry with him (sometimes it's difficult to persuade people that a social indicator that means one thing to them is actually intended as something different when you do it), but it must be annoying that even when he understands introversion, he can't seem to think of it as okay.

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daasgrrl.livejournal.com

No post too old for a comment, right? *g*

Just to say I loved this article - the subject of introversion vs extraversion has always been interesting to me, particularly the point about whether having people around energises you or depletes your energy. I've always tested borderline, but I identify more with the introverted perspective, and I generally hate 'content-free' babble/small talk with strangers, although I can do it. I just end up daydreaming - sometimes while I'm talking!

However, I do find it energising to talk to people I like, even if it is complete nonsense. The story of them hanging out their washing is fascinating - or at least bearable - if I like them, torture if I don't. And under those circumstances I can be in their company for hours and hours and talk a blue streak and feel great. I don't know if that's true for other introverts as well, or if it's a sign that I am actually borderline, or a secret extravert. Of course, the other side to that is I really enjoy large amounts of time on my own as well.

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Nope! Comment away. Making use of the tags on the side, are you?

I love reading about introversion, which should tell you right there where I fall on the spectrum. Particularly interesting are the occasional studies done on introversion and giftedness, and introverts in extravert-dominated environments like school and corporate offices. An entirely egoistic interest, but it's in the nature of an introspective introvert to want to know more about oneself, not to mention find out ways to more easily get along with the "other" personality type in life.

I believe one of the qualities of an introvert is not that you don't like to talk, but rather that you prefer to talk in-depth, about a subject that interests you, with one person or a small group of people. I've found that that's true for me -- like you, small talk and mindless chatter drive me up the wall, but start talking about something interesting, or get me going on something interesting, and you'd better be prepared to stick around until the topic's exhausted. I have a co-worker who brings up good subjects pretty frequently, but then she veers right off into something else, sometimes when I'm in the middle of a response, and I have to stop her and ask if she wants an answer or not. It sounds kind of rude to put it like that, but it actually works out all right for both of us; she's learning not to ask me things if she doesn't want to get into a 'whole discussion,' and I'm learning to take it easy when she answers, "no, I was just making conversation." :)

ANYWAY. I suppose at the extreme end of the introversion/extraversion spectrum you'd get someone who's most comfortable never, ever interacting with people, but from what I understand, the basic marker of an introvert is that you need "recharge" time after being with people. Not that you don't enjoy interaction, just that it saps you. And I think that's true. I enjoy being with people in certain situations, but afterwards, even if I'm thrumming with stimulation at having talked about something cool for a long time, I need to go somewhere quiet and unwind. And on the whole I spend much more time alone or following solitary pursuits than with people in groups. (Another marker being a small number of close friends rather than a large circle of acquaintances.)

Have you read Rauch's previous, and now infamous, article, "Caring for Your Introvert"? It's fantastic stuff.

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daasgrrl.livejournal.com

Yes, pretty tags :)

And yes, I read the previous article. The thing is, almost everyone I've been friends with or worked with in my life has been introverted, or at least understanding and familiar with the traits, so it's never been a big point of conflict for me. I just tend to avoid those who aren't - but then again, they tend not to really be paying attention anyway (imo), so it works out well on both sides *g*.

I would say I fit both of those markers very well - the 'recharge' and the 'close friends' rather than acquaintances. The connection with giftedness is interesting as well, although I do think one tends to, or at least potentially does, feed into the other.

I just wanted to use my icon - that's Rorschach, from Alan Moore's Watchmen comic, which is amazing. He's kind of a classic vigilante, who sees the world only in black and white. I think I adore him precisely because that kind of absolutism is near-impossible for me.

Does that mean even lj socialising makes you a little edgy? I do get what you mean though - there's a lot to keep up with *g*

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