Looking Within

Dylan Culp

More often than not, Im not one who approaches strangers. At times Im even hesitant to walk up and declare my presence to those whom I can call my friends. I dont consider myself extremely shy, yet there are moments when I see someone whom I have known for years and I feel a subtle force pulling me away, telling me to keep the status quo, remain anonymous. Am I afraid? I dont think so. Yet at the same time I question the necessity of greeting someone when Im fully aware that both of us will go on totally fine whether it happens or not. I value time spent alone. When I was a child I would get mad at my friends for inviting me to their house too often. I wanted time to myself. Its pretty frightening that at five years I had a mentality that resembled an overworked businessperson after a brutal day at the office. However odd it may seem, though, my entire life Ive needed alone time, and more of it than others. I even get hostile about it. Sometimes I find myself snapping at my mother who just came to offer to do my laundry simply because she interrupted my solitude. Sometimes I ignore emails or messages in shallow denial

of a human existence outside my own. I like being alone. And by alone I mean everelusive alone. When Im rotting my mind on the computer or vegetating on my couch, Im not really alone, Im having sights and sounds, voices and stories forced into my brain. And in everyday life theres just so much going on, people are very rarely left on their own. But my time alone is great. I value the few hazy minutes before sleep where thoughts rattle around in the dark like ping-pong balls in lottery machines. I value spending an hour sitting in my bed on a Saturday morning, thinking about everything under the newly risen sun because there simply isnt anything else Id rather do. I value my long showers in the dark, where I spend one minute washing to every five spent thinking in my sensory-deprived chamber, with only the searing droplets for company. And what do I think about? Depends. Sometimes its really dumb. Sometimes Im impressed with what I come up with. Im not claiming to be a great philosopher; its usually average stuff. But sometimes an interesting idea sparks my mind, and leaves me reflecting afterward like a particularly bizarre dream. I start thinking about a novel Ill never write, people Ill never meet, and places Ill never go. But when Im lost in my thoughts, anything goes. People are discussing my work in English classes, Ive met my heroes and traveled the world. Is it dreaming? Yes. Is it nave? Of course. But it serves as a great escape. And its me in my truest form, unfiltered by media, or social restrictions, or rules and regulations. In an Emersonian sort of way, when Im alone Im with the pure me. He can be a pretty interesting guy when given the time to speak his mind. Im an introvert. People have given varied definitions of what being an introvert actually is. The popular opinion, not surprisingly the most misguided one, is that introversion consists of extreme shyness, a particular aversion to human interaction. Although there are definitely people that fit that mold, most introverts would consider

this an unfair generalization. I like people. I enjoy interacting with people, learning their life stories, telling jokes and growing closer. This exactly is what being an introvert is. I value one-on-one conversation because it is as close as I can get to my isolated conversations with myself while still interacting with another person. Its just so simple: me, you, and our minds. Many of my favorite conversations have occurred late at night with one friend, both of us about to fall asleep. Theres something about those conversations that breaks down some of the mental barriers-- it seems as if no topic goes uncovered. It could be the lack of vision. It could be the pre-slumber gradual descent into delirium. Its almost as if you can hide behind the darkness, maintaining visual anonymity. At the same time you often arent totally sure what youre talking about. And since theres so little to do in the still darkness, we keep talking. We talk about family and books and friends and music and dreams and the future and the past. It is these conversations that prove to be a stronger sleep deterrent than caffeine. And it is these conversations that produce the realization, the damn its five-thirty A.M. and I still have no idea what weve been doing for the past four hours-- but I enjoyed it. And it is during these conversations when I nearly reveal some of my biggest secrets, simply because the time and place just feel nearly right. And its really the most satisfying feeling to know youve wasted an entire night with a friend and some thoughts. Introversion has affected my interactions with others just as much as it has affected my interactions with myself. Im always introverted, not just when Im alone. It may seem against the nature of an introvert, but sometimes I wish I could just wear a big yellow sign around my neck that identified me as one. I find it tedious to explain why on certain days I just want to sit alone on the train. Why I have days where I just want to curl up in my bed and watch a million episodes of Monty Pythons Flying Circus and shut out the entire world. There will always be a desire for human

interaction within me, sometimes dormant, sometimes erupting. Yet at the same time my introverted lifestyle must have inhibited, to some extent, this drive to socialize. Would I have more friends if I were an extrovert? This depends on how you define "friend. I tend to use the word sparingly, reserving it for the people I am closest to, the ones with whom I have shared many of the one-on-one conversations that I so desire. It may sound harsh, but there honestly arent that many people I know who fit that description. There may be people who may consider me their friend to whom I simply cannot return the favor. Sure, I have plenty of acquaintances, the people to whom I feel comfortable giving a quick greeting in the hallway, or wishing a virtual happy birthday to via Facebook. But how well do I really know those people? Do I know them on a personal level? Are they people whom Id want to stay up all night talking with? I find it hard to call people friends, as harsh as it may seem. As a whole, has introversion affected me for better or for worse? Seventeen short years cannot provide the answer. I do appreciate many aspects of my introverted personality, yet I cannot say for sure that I am better off than had I been an extrovert. My life would be completely different, with my relations with friends, even the friends themselves, being altered drastically by such a radical shift in personality. To be honest, I find it impossible to imagine life as an extrovert. Ill never be the person who yells across the quad at someone just to remind her I exist, or calls someone my friend within five minutes of meeting him. Ill always be the one who defers the penalty shot to a teammate, out of sheer fear of the pressure and attention. Sure, Id be more popular, should that mean anything after I graduate. Id probably have more friends, but my definition of the word friend would probably be very different, as would the nature of our friendships.

While these hypotheticals are interesting, in the end they are largely irrelevant, since I do not see a future in which I am an extrovert. I am who I am. This isn't a defiant expression of self-confidence; if anything it conveys a sense of fear. Fear of life as someone else after seventeen pretty good years. Fear of the loss of my core values and characteristics. Fear of losing my precious spare moments of thought in my bed or shower. Fear of not being able to stay up until five thirty talking about nothing. But thankfully Im still right here, comfortably alone in the womb of my bed or shower. And I know that this is one of the few things about me that hasnt and wont change. I'm happy as an introvert because I'm not afraid to admit that I like to spend time alone, and when I spend time with others I like to make it as personal as possible. It is during these exchanges that you also learn about yourself and how you think. And your mind can turn out to be a pretty good friend if you give it the chance.