About a month ago I finished reading Susan Cain's book Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can't Stop Talking. As an introvert myself, I found Cain's writing to be both encouraging and enlightening. Cain explores the concept of the "extrovert ideal" throughout Quiet. Essentially, the "extrovert ideal" is that we (North Americans, particularly) are being raised to believe that it is "good" to be an extrovert and "not-so-good" to be an introvert when in truth, there are advantages and disadvantages to each end of the introversion-extroversion spectrum.
The "extrovert ideal" has been promoted to me in many instances throughout my life. Extroverts will get the attention they want. Extroverts will be more convincing speakers. Extroverts are more charismatic, magnetic, and charming. Extroverts are better at expressing their ideas--and therefore have better ideas.
But is any of this true? I have been interested in the "extrovert ideal" for many years myself, because I think introverts have been undervalued and underutilized in many circles. Cain speaks about how North American culture has transitioned from cultivating character to promoting personality. For instance, the self-help books of years past were entitled Character: The Grandest Thing in the World, etc. Now, self-help books boast titles such as How to Win Friends and Influence People and focus on teaching us how to be more entertaining and dynamic to our peers.
But what about people who desire to improve their relationships, leadership abilities, etc. but do not care to become more entertaining and dynamic to their peers? Is there room for "highly-sensitive" characters who prefer to be quiet and escape stimulation in a society that favours flashy, "showmanistic," augmented personalities?
Cain argues that there is, and I agree with her. I do not think it is right that there is a book that, in part, exists to convince people that it is okay to be an introvert. But if people are not convinced that it is indeed okay to be introverted, then I am glad this book exists. Admittedly, I did feel better for being an introvert after completing the book--not because it promotes introversion as better than extroversion, but because it promotes them as equally valid and useful in all spheres. And because it encourages being proactive in creating quiet space for yourself, if you are the highly-sensitive introverted type.
Speaking of types, I was reminded tonight of another one of my favourite personality psychology reads: Relient K's The Complex Infrastructure Known as the Female Mind. Actually, calling it personality psychology is probably a stretch, but at its core it is this, in its own light. It's a witty, insightful analysis of different types of girls...written by some boys. I like it. It's simple and somewhat stereotypic, but overall it's laughably accurate.
In case you are wondering, there are 12 girl "types:" The Athlete, The Rock Chick, The Diva, The Homecoming Queen, The Mathlete, The Overachiever, The Poet, First Chair, The Drama Queen, The Airhead, The Girlfriend, and Vanilla Pudding.
I am most like Vanilla Pudding:
"She's as sweet as she sounds and just as interesting and fascinating. She's not as rich as Tiramisu, she's not as tangy as a Lemon Tart, she's not as complicated as White Chocolate Hazelnut Cheesecake, or as exotic as Walnut Baklava. As far as dessert goes, she's regular Vanilla Pudding...not too crazy and not too bland." (CIFM 89).
Vanilla pudding is mellow, complementary, and average--adjectives that can have a negative connotation in a society that favours the "extrovert ideal," but that are actually quite lovely. Vanilla pudding is consistent and steady--a canvas waiting to be filled with other flavours and textures and wonderful things.
So cheers to embracing my "blandness:" it is good to be a quiet, happy, introverted bowl of vanilla pudding.
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Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
On Autumn and Romance
So, I have been meaning to write some thoughts here for a while--but time has this fiendish way of slipping away on me. Hence, here I am at the end of November.
I have enjoyed this autumn in most regards thus far. Something that has been on my mind throughout the fall is the significance of determining outlets that are life-giving. Asking myself, "will this bring life?" and "will this bring joy?" has, in part, kept me sane in this flurry of work and exams and stress I live in right now. It's been enriching to think about these things because I realize now that there are many things that bring me joy, even though I feel like my life is rather boring at times.
Things like:
-playing the piano (few things bring me more joy than this)
-my 4 year old class that I teach
-receiving hand written letters from people I love
-running on the track at school
-reading in the bathtub
-learning new words
-learning new things, in general
-the crisp crunch of snow when I walk on it
-all things Brian Regan
-riding the bus early in the morning
-tomato soup on cold days
And so on. To be truly thankful for these things is a good feeling. I am glad that people are capable of not just being alive, but feeling alive. And of feeling joy.
Also, I find joy in adventure. To me, adventure is the ultimate romance. I do not require dinners or dances or roses to be romanced. I am not longing for a man to shower me in jewelry and chocolates or whatever it is people give as romantic gifts these days. But as much as I hate to admit it, I do want romance, perhaps even as much as the average girl out there.
But I am looking for a redefined romance--for someone to go adventuring with in significant and unimportant things, in the big and small, in the seriousness of the recesses of the heart and in the overflows of laughter of the soul.
The greatest challenge for me in the matters of romance is cynicism. While my questioning nature lends itself well to my pursuits as a scientist, it is not as supportive to quests of the heart. Yet, I am doing my best at holding out hope for the redefined romance as I wait. If you see it, would you let me know?