The Story of the Extroverted Introvert

Erin, Are you an Introvert or an Extrovert? 

Those who know me know this question is silly.

I'm ridiculously outgoing (and super annoying).

But it's actually a question I've asked myself a lot lately as I've moved to Pittsburgh and had to really make an effort to meet new people.

It's weird when you move to a new place because you kind of forget how you made all those old friends in the first place. You are no longer surrounded by thousands of people your age that you know. It forces you to take a good look at what you want in a new relationship and a deep dive into who you are.

I always took being called an extrovert as somewhat of an insult. I mean, I'm a writer! I'm supposed to fly-on-the-wall the crap out of every situation! I can't break down that fourth wall and actually gather my own life experiences, right? To participate and observe creates a skewed, conflict of interest to a story, right?

I spend a lot of time with myself. I like shopping alone and eating alone. I like watching boats pull bigger boats down the Allegheny River on my lunch break. I like putting up my ENO hammock and hanging out by myself as all the sidewalkers stare. So naturally, I thought of myself as an introvert.

But I think I confused introversion, independence and observation skills as being mutually exclusive.

I thought because I was able to spend days hanging out with myself and not getting self conscious -- because I could go out to lunch with myself without feeling the need to stare at my phone -- that I was an introvert. Really, it's just that I am independent.

When it comes down to it, as in most areas of life, we can't simply organize ourselves as one way or another. Humans are more complex than that. Even when we gather MORE boxes and MORE descriptions (like the ever popular Myers-Briggs tests), people still don't fit into our tidy little categories.

There are super self-conscious extroverts and insanely conceited introverts. There are extroverts who hate talking in front of others and their are introverts who can sing the Star Spangled Banner in front of millions on national television.

Introversion/Extroversion really explains where you get your energy from.

The other day, we bumped into someone who I think it's safe to call a legend in the organization I was involved with in college (called Younglife) at Dave & Andy's (an awesome homemade ice cream shop in Oakland).  He and his family had just moved to Pittsburgh to start a new YoungLife chapter here and I had known this from mutual friends, but had never actually met him. Casually, I approached the man and we held a titillating conversation for a few minutes before I got my strawberry ice cream and we headed on our way.

As we walked to the car, licking our cones, I was bouncing off the walls. My boyfriend pointed it out that my energy level literally changed because I had just met a new person. He laughed. hard. Because we've argued before whether I'm an extrovert or introvert. He was right. My attitude and mood after meeting this new person had gone from 0 to 60. So obviously so that it was kind of hilarious.

Ultimately, my confidence, extroversion and independence all come from the same roll of quarters. They all work together to make me who I am.

Everybody is different and it's really awesome to see how we all fit together.  We need all kinds of people to make it all work.

While, introversion and extroversion are things we need to know about ourselves in order to best take care of ourselves, there are also different skills that make us who we are that we can practice and perfect. These can change as we change.

It's so important that we all figure out where we get our energy (you probably already know this answer). It's important that we figure out the skills we love about ourselves and keep practicing them, and that we figure out the things we're awful at and, after scrutinizing them, we exercise them.

You are a unique person with some kick ass skills that you can use to make the world suck less.

Forget what box you fit into and figure out who you really are. Then go be that person. Be the best damn version of that person you can be.

Signed,

The independent, somewhat introverted outgoing extrovert who enjoys hanging out with herself but also gets really excited about meeting new people.

Update: I was approached about this blog and told that I'm not an extrovert or introvert because I'm an ambivert — the person who fits in between. My point in this blog is to show that people are complex beings, inadequately categorized from simply getting their energy from alone time or social time. To take this blog and attempt to categorize my feeling that every person is unique completely misses the point.

People Observation: Cat videos killed the curiosity

My next door neighbor is a professor Emeritus of Physics. He's an incredible man who I could chat with all day. On the subject of our college town's academic quality, I asked him what he notices with students these days compared to those he's taught in the past. He gave me one answer: they just don't have any curiosity.

He teaches physics. His students are studying to be scientists. But they never seem to care anymore to know the fascinating answers we are finding to some of the universe's biggest questions.

My neighbor's observation isn't unaccompanied. I've noticed this myself.

I babysat for a wonderful little boy who has a creative brain that I loved to pick. While many people find Right Brains to be the math experts, I would argue the most successful problem solvers are the ones who can best mix that Left Brain creativity with that Right Brain critical thinking to find unique and new routes for finding solutions. This boy I babysat is one of those people. His math homework was kind of a mess, and he loved to use one of those extra smooth and inky purple pens to write his answers (which drove me kind of nuts). His answers were always right, but he always seemed to find them in ways I never understood. One day, he brought home a couple of wrong answers on a math quiz. He was very discouraged. He said his teacher told him he wasn't good at fractions. I was livid. What kind of third grade teacher tells an eight year old he isn't GOOD at something? Then, as I looked through his answers, I found she was the wrong one. The questions had been ambiguous, and when the boy attempted to ask for clarification, he was shot down. Only because this boy had misinterpreted a quiz question was he told he was incorrect, and even worse, he was told he wasn't good at it.

We have all had similar experiences: When I was in second grade I used to get really excited about the books we were reading. If I read ahead I would get in trouble. (Sidenote: My brother Sean used to read ahead to parts in books with swear words -- obviously 5th grade swear words like hell and ass-- so he could volunteer to read out loud during the raunchy parts of class novels)

Eventually this getting in trouble for our curiosity takes a toll on us. We get sick of our excitement about all of our questions. We're told our questions are stupid. So we stop asking. Eventually, the only questions we ever ask are, "is this going to be on the test?"

As a young person who was insanely curious in college, I felt this kind of punishment all of the time. See my story about getting a C- in a class I took for fun.

But I have found that the rewards for my curiosities always outweigh any kind of "punishment" I'd ever receive for them. Rewards like further understanding of people who aren't like me (or, as it turns out, end up being more like me than I think). Rewards like empathy. Rewards like meeting new people and noticing the little nuances and paradoxes of every day life.

I've talked about New Years Resolutions before. They're an easy way for me to make a drastic change towards becoming the person I believe a person should be. I like to do drastic things (mostly so I can brag about them but also) to test myself and learn something along the way. This year, my resolution was that I wasn't allowed to look at my phone while I'm in a line.

You see, people are looking at there phones everywhere they go. Every single line you've stood in in the last three years has been loaded with phone lookers. And I hate it. I absolutely LOATHE it. People constantly checking their screens are missing some incredible stuff.

We miss the eye contact with strangers at a coffee shop that turns into the observation that they, too, visit the same coffee shop every morning, which maybe then becomes a friendship. We miss the opportunity to ask people about their days. We miss noticing the puppy walking down the street. We miss real, genuine smiles to and from strangers that over the course of an entire day can change a person's emotional wellbeing. The things I notice that others don't notice baffles me. The things I've noticed and enjoyed since this year's No Phones While Waiting rule baffle me.

While you watch that video of that (probably adorable) kitty on your phone, you're missing your own cat's short nine lives. While you're letting your child sit on that tablet at the dinner table, you're missing an incredible conversation about his life -- he is missing an incredible interaction with his family.

Here's the truth: Nothing on your phone will ever be more remarkable than the person sitting in front of you.

I would like to challenge you to tickle your curiosity muscle every now and then. I would rather have friends who don't know but want to know than friends who know everything. I would rather have friends who can find answers with me than friends who tell me all the answers. (Chances are if you think you know everything you're probably wrong because there is no possible way that you do.) Read ahead and find the swear words. Get distracted with a new hobby. Use your freaking imagination.

There is nothing more attractive than a person who has curiosity.

Put down your phones and step away from your screens. Because they don't have the answers. Go explore the world.

People Observation/No More of That: Musical Snobbery

photo courtesy of The Verge.

This blogpost is inspired by a post a good friend of mine named Eric put on Facebook a couple days ago reading this: 

"Helplessness Blues is a great album by the Fleet Foxes. So late to the game."

First of all, Helplessness Blues is amazing. Eric, I'm so glad you found such a wonderful album. So many feels. 

Second of all, I know you didn't mean it in this way, but IT ISN'T A GAME! 

There is something empowering about being unique, the first, or one of the few in the realm of knowledge. It makes you feel special, I understand. This stupid thing that happens in fandom that I have dubbed Musical Snobbery, however, has got to stop.

I've explored a lot of genres. I like to sing music and play music and dance to music on a morningly, afternooningly (that's a word..) and nightly basis. With the exception of country music sap songs because those are awful, I like music that grabs my heart straight out of my chest and gives it a good smackin'. I like music that leaves my heart alone, but instead yanks at my brain and tickles my curiosity HQ. I like lyrics that mean something. I like lyrics that mean nothing. I'm a classically-trained Soprano with a secret love for a little bit of screamo. (I guess it isn't a secret love once you put it on your blog.) I can recognize a Strokes' bass line from three houses away. I can shout Bruce Springsteen lyrics at the top of my lungs and only mess up on the parts that he's mumbling his face off and I've never understood.  Just like most of you, I, too, had an emo phase. And going to college in Appalachia turned me into a lover of anything with a banjo. I'm lookin' at you, Steve Martin.

In high school, I took advantage of the surprisingly awesome bands that would come through Columbus (thanks for being a good stop-through town CBUS!), and -- without any actual expenses -- I spent every last dime that I earned at my minimum wage job on the relatively cheap basement shows. Possibly like you, I have memories of talking to bands after shows and accidentally elbowing middle school girls in the face for being the worst crowd members in the history of rock. 

While 90s music envelopes the brilliant nostalgia of early Generation Y, I find the early 2000s to be a musical dark age.  I thank heaven for things like Myspace, which would eventually lead the way for new and creative musicians to gain followings without having to sign to a major record label.  I love the things that are happening currently in the music world (for the most part). (Sidenote: It isn't a coincidence that the 90s and now are both musical eras of awesome as pop culture cycles every 20 years... but that's another blogpost for another time).

Alas, here we are. With so much music being home-brewed and accessible to fans all over the world every day, I can see how a subculture of music snobs could emerge. In every kind of category and hobby and subculture of anything you've ever seen or heard or smelled, there's always some group of snobs trying to make it exclusive. (It's all somewhat preschoolesque in a Neener-neener-neener-I-know-something-you-don't-know kind of way). 

But what kind of true fan of a band would want to hide the music they enjoy? 

I have friends from college who stopped liking Mumford once everybody knew who they were. Why wouldn't you celebrate their success? Why would you not want something you love to live on? 

A true fan of a band would want to support the band and share it with people, not keep its supposed awesomeness to him or herself. Hide it under a bushel, no; blast it in your car with the windows down and scream it at the top of your lungs. 

Take these non-musical, yet also applicable references: I love Bob's Burgers. I need everyone else in the world to love Bob's because without their according fandom, Bob's will get cancelled. (See: Arrested Development.) My love for the Columbus Blue Jackets represents a similar situation. I've loved the Blue Jackets since their Inaugural season in 2000. No true fan would get upset that a bunch of bandwagoners are hoppin' on after this year's playoff run. More fans leads to more tickets, jerseys and other random crap with a CBJ logo on it, which leads to more money, better players, and thus, a better team. As Paul Brown used to say, "There's always room on the bandwagon."

Don't let the hipsters fool you. Music is meant to be enjoyed regardless of how obscure it is. Classics are meant to be heard. And thank God for it too. Cheers to all of those times I was recommended a great song or band, and double Cheers to the times they have led to friendships and experiences and, a lot of times, easing some pretty harsh pains. 

Which takes me right back to Helplessness Blues: 

I was raised up believing I was somehow unique
Like a snowflake distinct among snowflakes, unique in each way you can see
And now after some thinking,
I'd say I'd rather be A functioning cog in some great machinery serving something beyond me

The music game is not a game. It's an awesome collective of fandom and shared experiences that were meant to be shared. You are a functioning cog in some great machinery of amazing sounds and lyrics and beats serving something far beyond a little music ego. 

My message to hipsters: Revel in the obscurity of the songs that you find. Enjoy that strange sound that tickles your ears in a way you've never heard. And then, when you've downloaded it (probably illegally) and played it on repeat for ten or twenty times straight, share the crap out of it. Good music is meant to be heard.