I am prone to making piles of things, some of which is an attempt at organization, and some of which is laziness; I’ll just put it in a pile and deal with the pile later. Or I will put it in a box, to rifle through at some later date, and hopefully put things in better order.
This tendency carries over into the realm of mental categorization. I even slap labels on things I do myself, and later wonder why I am dissatisfied with the result.
“Introvert.”
I stick the label on myself, notice how it seems to be un-American to be quiet, how awkward it sometimes is in social situations to be at a loss for conversation with people I do not know well, and sigh. Then I watch other people and marvel at their ability to make conversation seem so effortless. They seem to have a stream of questions ready, while I struggle to conjure anything to say. It isn’t that I am uninterested in the person opposite me, quite the reverse, but conversation does not flow naturally.
So people tell me to practice: “You won’t get better unless you try more.” And I am. This year I have had many awkward interactions with people who I know only slightly. They are nice people. I wish I knew them better. But the places where I am around people are places where there are a large number of people, which immediately intimidates me. I try for a while, and then often become quieter and quieter… I think I may actually be shrinking physically into the chair… soon no one will see me and I won’t have to try to think of anything to say. If only I could find a small group of people to talk to. But people my age seem to travel in packs.
Society favors extroverts. Or perhaps it is my skewed perception thinking that it is true. I will keep trying to talk to new (and new-ish) people, but oh for a gathering of friends (and potential friends) that is small and less threatening to those of us who think and listen more than we speak.
Posted by austin 