I’ve been rolling this idea in my head for a while–hence the lack of writing lately.
The emotional self-sufficiency of an introvert can, at least in the West, can be seen as a curse. How can I possibly be a good friend, leader, lover, life partner if I am so self-controlled and self-possessed? The cynic in me can turn that question around and ask how someone really emotional could possibly lead and love.
But I’m not a cynic.
I don’t really know the answer. All I can say is this. I know I can lead, and love, and be a friend. Because I have done them before, and I’ll continue to do them. If anything, my introversion at all three for this reason–I’m not in any of those for the short haul. I’m in them for the long haul.
Once upon a time, someone tried to make me feel that self-possession and self-control and being even-keeled were bad traits to have.
That demands you always do something, doing nothing may really be the sweetest thing…
Develop the mind of equilibrium. You will always be getting praise and blame, but do not let either affect the poise of the mind: follow the calmness, the absence of pride.
“Revolutionary change does not come as one cataclysmic moment (beware of such moments!) but as an endless succession of surprises, moving zigzag toward a more decent society. We don’t have to engage in grand, heroic actions to participate in the process of change. Small acts, when multiplied by millions of people, can transform the world. Even when we don’t “win,” there is fun and fulfillment in the fact that we have been involved, with other good people, in something worthwhile. We need hope.
An optimist isn’t necessarily a blithe, slightly sappy whistler in the dark of our time.
To be hopeful in bad times is not just foolishly romantic. It is based on the fact that human history is a history not only of cruelty but also of compassion, sacrifice, courage, kindness. What we choose to emphasize in this complex history will determine our lives. If we see only the worst, it destroys our capacity to do something. If we remember those times and places–and there are so many–where people have behaved magnificently, this gives us the energy to act, and at least the possibility of sending this spinning top of a world in a different direction. And if we do act, in however small a way, we don’t have to wait for some grand utopian future. The future is an infinite succession of presents, and to live now as we think human beings should live, in defiance of all that is bad around us, is itself a marvelous victory,” – Howard Zinn, “The Optimism of Uncertainty,” The Nation, 2004.
The sturm und drang with Apple’s announcement of the iPad yesterday, this one nails it. You still need a computer to sync it, but email, music, photos, Facebook, Twitter–you don’t need deep knowledge of how a computer works for that.
The gentleman in the video designed the AT&T logo, and a slew of iconic movie posters. What he says about design, I think, can be applied to life as well–to achieve a goal, it takes time and a plan. Material gain shouldn’t be the goal.
After the Tiger Woods news broke, and the number of women he was allegedly with grew, I feared something. I feared that the stereotype of the promiscuous black male would get going, and that bullseye would be on Woods’ back. And I’m sure it confirmed in some peoples’ minds what they believe Tiger, and all black men, to be.
I know that for the rest of my life, I’m going to have to defend myself against anyone who dares try to make me into a two-dimensional cardboard cutout, out of a black man, an introvert, or what have you. I’m ready for it. It gets tiring having to constantly re-educate people, but such is life–it has to be done.
I sort of hate to dip into vulgarities here, but I need to, if only to assert myself. And to tell a truth. There is this myth of the unbridled sexual power of the black male, as this article states. I’m not saying that I don’t like sex, but I am more than my penis, or the size of it. A lot more.
I guess people grasp onto stereotypes because they are easier to process than the whole, complex entities we are. One day, we’ll stop being so lazy.
Now, jazz is exported to the world. For in the particular struggle of the Negro in America there is something akin to the universal struggle of modern man. Everybody has the Blues. Everybody longs for meaning. Everybody needs to love and be loved. Everybody needs to clap hands and be happy. Everybody longs for faith. In music, especially this broad category called Jazz, there is a stepping stone towards all of these.
Everybody can be great, because anybody can serve. You don’t have to have a college degree to serve. You don’t have to make your subject and verb agree to serve. You only need a heart full of grace. A soul generated by love.
This evening I saw a web page asking a question–are introverts boring and uninteresting? (I’m not linking to the page because of a skeevy pop-up)
No, we are not. Now yes, we do seem like it because we are so quiet and tend to stay to ourselves. How can someone so quiet have anything interesting to say?
Pardon my language, but…
Are you fucking kidding me? Seriously, are you joking?
Look, here’s the deal on this. Introverts hate small talk. Hate it. We’d rather have teeth pulled than engage in it. (I’m speaking generally, of course.)
It’s not that we don’t have anything interesting to say–what we know and care about is probably more interesting than the idle chatter/chit-chat/gossip going on.
To crawl inside an introvert’s head is to enter a museum, alive with sights, insights, sounds, feelings, emotions–the depths of which would astound any extrovert. What we have to say, what we think, what we feel, who we are–none of this is shallow. We don’t do shallow.
I think that on a certain level, extroverts are scared of us. They need not fear us.
But I donated $10 to the Red Cross for Haiti earthquake relief. And $5 to Yele Haiti. It’ll help buy medicine and food and water for a people that need every scrap of help they can.
Do you really need that latte you’re drinking? Or that magazine in the checkout line? No, you don’t.
In light of the words of Nevada Sen. Harry Reid about President Obama and his skin tone and dialect, and the kerfuffle surrounding it, these words are appropriate…
[The American Negro] wishes neither of the older selves to be lost. He would not Africanize America, for America has too much to teach the world and Africa. He would not bleach his Negro soul in a flood of white Americanism, for he knows that Negro blood has a message for the world. He simply wishes to make it possible for a man to be both a Negro and an American, without being cursed and spit upon by his fellows, without having the doors of Opportunity closed roughly in his face.
…Or, very little, that irks me more than someone saying, in essence, that my quiet nature means I’m dead inside. (And please read the disclaimer at the end that explains the headline…)
Walking through the looking glass can be a painful, powerful experience. You transform into something new, something different. You leave a part of yourself behind, as you struggle with a new form, making it fit into old contours. The change, though, doesn’t happen with a bang. It can happen on a quiet Sunday morning, listening to music, and the lyrics move you to tears. Then, by ourselves, we pass through. Still in the world, but seeing it a little differently.
This article focuses on how a person can overcome a bullying boss. But as I read through it, I thought, hey, here are six ways to become a better person. There are a host of lists out there showing how to be that better person, but the Six Ways of Ruling are as good as any.
I just left New York, on my way home from work. And as the skyline passed magically before me, I’m thinking–I can’t believe I’m working there again. The lights twinkling on against a setting sun was stunning.
There’s a period right before you wake up, when you’re mind is coming back from dreamland into the reality of now. In that short span of time, you discover things about you from the past, not big things, but they are crucial–like waypoints on a map. showing you where you’ve been, to avoid the pitfalls that are surely ahead. And in this time, you see that some of the things you’ve done, were the right things to do. They may not have seemed like it at the time–they never do. But on some cold, dark morning, as you awaken and prepare for the day ahead, you realize, yes, that was the right way to go.
Whether we admit it or not, we all have some deficiency. And we all have to make up for that hole in ourselves. Maybe that hole is loneliness, fear, depression, what have you. The central question is, how do you make up for that hole? And, is the makeup game you have to play good for your soul and good for others? Since today is the Epiphany (the 12th day of Christmas), wouldn’t this be a good time to have your own epiphany? What are you making up for? And how are you doing it?
For the first time in nine years, I’m going to be working in New York City, and I’m actually more excited by that fact than the job itself. I plan to move closer to the city, but if and when I do, I’ll miss living where I do. Yesterday the wind howled fiercely, blowing through the treetops, a low whoosh that I remember from camping as a teen. If you’re from the country, you know that sound. But then again, there’s nothing like walking through New York at any time. So a new adventure begins…
I was thinking about small talk last night, and how introverts have a general distate for it. We don’t schoomze well–we swim better in deeper waters, seeking deeper connections. So the lyrics of Rush’s “Limelight,” and this post, resonate for me.
I was dreaming about helping a little boy last night. He didn’t want to go to this function (I can’t remember what is was) and I was trying to convince him to hitch up his belt, breathe deeply and go. And eventually, he went. The odd thing was, the boy was white.
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Yesterday felt different. Usually on New Year’s Day, I’m recovering from the last night’s revelries and watching football. Not yesterday, though. I spent the evening with a couple of friends, and after the moment passed, I trundled off into the rainy dark, not wanting a huge slice of amateur night. I woke up and things just felt different, off. But in a good way. As if something was about to happen, about to turn. The question is, as always, will I be ready for the turn?
I remember as a kid staying up for New Years with my grandmother, and as the bells tolled out the old year and rang in the new, she would say, “Lord, we made through another year, who knows what the next one will bring.”
Truer words never spoken.
I have no clue what 2010 will bring–that why you have to live it to see. Already, a couple of folks think it will be the year of the introvert–my fingers are crossed on that, and I want to contribute to that slice of enlightenment. As to what else, who knows.
I’m not a fashion maven (something I’ve said many a time before), but I find TLC’s “What Not to Wear” utterly fascinating. Not from the clothes perspective, but from the psychological realm. How clothes are used as armor to keep the world at bay, how we can be lulled to sleep, how much self-image matters, how much we really care about how others see us. The transformations are amazing, but the getting there can be gut-wrenching. And what happens once the cameras turn off and disappear?
If we medicate ourselves to fill whatever emptiness we feel, then why are we empty? What can we do–that won’t harm others and ourselves–to fill the empty space? To think that all the money that Tiger Woods has would fill that void is nuts. We know what the quest is, but fulfilling the quest always trips us up.
After I graduated from high school, I went a small Catholic college right outside Washington for a year. And there are, among other things, I picked up two things–WTOP radio (with its invaluable traffic reports), and WRC, with George Michael and his fantastic sports reports. His “George Michael Sports Machine” was SportsCenter before it became the juggernaut it is. I missed his reports once I transferred, but always tried to catch the Machine.
“To love means to open ourselves to the negative as well as the positive – to grief, sorrow, and disappointment as well as to joy, fulfillment, and an intensity of consciousness we did not know was possible before.” — Rollo May
I think I posted this list once before, a while back. It’s always worth looking at again, if only to weigh what you think is “normal.” I love this one…
44] Being convinced that being a good, decent and respectful person means that the others will find you weak, vulnerable and easy to manipulate.
I’m not the easiest person to market to. I don’t buy much, and I’m picky about what I buy. Hammering me over the head with marketing pitches will be the fastest way to make sure I don’t buy your product. If your product is good on its own, you won’t need a fancy pitch to sell me.
They’ve given it a name–the snowpocalypse. My eye spies maybe 15 inches on the ground here in central Jersey. A 45-minute drive south and you’ll see two feet. Which means some digging out for me.
The air, even with snow still falling, is still. No one is moving. Usually, you can hear then hum of cars off in the distance, but not on this Sunday morning.
As I was watching the fierce storm come down last night, an odd thought came to mind. I like snow, watching it change the landscape and quieting the noise and cacophony of humanity. I felt some sadness, knowing that the storm would wend its way up the coast and the snow would eventually end. I wanted it to keep going. Not because I think snow is pretty–it is. But because of how it changes the landscape–it’s almost like a sedative, a calming influence.
A week from now, people will be exchanging gifts with friends, strangers and loved ones. Here’s an idea–what gift are you giving yourself? And I don’t mean the thing you bought yourself, then put a tag on it saying, To chehaw From Santa. What gift are you giving yourself that you can’t put a price tag on, or return it because it’s too small or too garish?
This is the gift I gave myself this year: the power to say no. I’ve highlighted it before. In saying no, I didn’t check my self-respect at the door. My heart may still not have what it desires, but it remains intact. And as whole as ever. I say that with a smile on my face.
We tend to hate the middle of the road. It’s boring, there’s nothing there. All the excitement is on the edges, the fringes. That’s where the action is.
May I throw this out, as food for thought?
I saw this passage in a work email I got today. I believe it’s from the Quran…
“Always adopt a middle, moderate, regular course whereby you will reach your target (Paradise).” Sahih Al-Bukhari, Volume 8, Hadith 470
And it got me to thinking. The great religions talk about the middle way, the straight and narrow, the Middle Path. Could they be on to something? I’m not saying the fruits on the edges aren’t enticing and tempting, but I’m not scared to be in the middle.
Let’s say I took a test. A test of integrity. And I passed the test–with flying colors. What will do with the results? Why, prep for the next test, of course.
This is sure to be controversial. Living well and being happy doesn’t mean over- or under-indulging. It is the middle path between the two that counts. I don’t understand why moderation scares people. The old saying is everything in moderation, but as the professor says, there is pressure to run hard and there is pressure to suppress. What’s so wrong with eudaimonia?
I’ve always liked the notion that the U.S. Civil Rights Movement spawned similar movements around the world. What happened in the middle of the last century here was a touchstone for oppressed people to rise up and proclaim themselves the fully vested human beings they already were. This abstract is a fascinating way of seeing the movement, as a non-violent insurgency.
I lived in the city for three years, and this captures Brussels very well. It is most certainly not New York, or London, or Paris. It has many charms, but it doesn’t reveal these easily. Brussels makes you work for it, like a woman sometimes makes a man work for her affection.
This story brings back memories–getting my hair cut in the Matonge district; the kart race I saw in Saint-Josse; the cab hustling through the dark, empty streets of the EU quarter; sitting outside during the summer in St. Gery. Brussels, I think, never really gets its due as a great, livable city. It’s comfortable–even with the rain, manageable, lived-in, charming. Don’t miss it because of the gray skies.
I’ve been to jazz sets and shows where I’ve wondered if the stuff the guys on the bandstand were playing was actually jazz. But I’ve never seen the police be called into investigate the matter. I guess there’s a first time for everything…
