I try to schedule my time with people very carefully; with introversion, there’s a delicate balance between isolation and over-stimulation. I always make sure I get a lot of alone time between major events. The only problem is that means I’m alone for too long when plans don’t work out.
On the other end of the spectrum is the fact that I can never say no to people if I’m too busy. I’m the one without kids, so my schedule is a lot more open than most my friends, and I never know when I’ll have another chance to see them. This is probably why I’ve been filming for four days straight.
Luckily, this included a wonderful performance by the inimitable André Bluteau, whose debut CD is out now, and which you should most definitely purchase after listening and subsequently loving.
I added a touch of grading to give the video a bit of creamy 1950s American diner feel. I’m thoroughly impressed by Apple’s Motion software, and the power it has to create object-tracking text effects. Text can add such a nicely subtle cinematic touch, though doing 3D transformations to make words match the plane of a foreground object is an exercise that will make your eyes bug out.
The only thing preventing me from making out with this man was his green hat. Don’t, don’t, don’t cover it up.
Also headlining was Andrew Vincent, who opened his set with Girlfriend’s Dog, a song I first gave to Bronwen when we started dating. It was right before she moved in for the summer, and she had Bear, who was also a Labrador Retriever.
Now I understand why I need to much time in between events. After the concert, I didn’t fall asleep until three in the morning, even though I was exhausted. The struggle not be shy and introverted drains me, but the simple act of being around so many people leaves me inordinately energized. It’s too much sometimes, but I never know what to think of that feeling.
I almost did something stupid crazy exciting adventurous tonight. But I didn’t. Maybe it was too last-minute. Maybe I was feeling too shy and introverted. Maybe I’m complacent. Maybe I’m too comfortable where I am right now.
Maybe the consequences of failure were greater than the potential gains of success.
Sometimes I wonder when the scales will tip that balance. When — if ever — will I be unsatisfied enough with things to step out of my comfort zone and take those chances?
When will I catch that ride?
I happen to have a chance to write now. It’s raining, so naturally the windows are all open.
My life has been somewhat chaotic lately. Weekends spent being social have been turned into introverted exile, a way of charging my batteries once again. The added benefit is that I have more time to tie up loose ends on my projects. I’m even getting back into the still photo medium again.
I installed these dry-erase marker boards next to my front door. I use them to keep track of my tasks, projects, and errands, so I can come home and immediately decide what I feel like doing. The two silver clips are used for hanging notes and letters.
Nothing feels better than putting that thick black line through a task. Writing on frosted glass is pretty tasty too.
I use the other board for quotes, a way to keep myself motivated — or grounded — every time I pass by on the way in or out of the house. It’s also a nice way for me to practice my hand-drawn typography, by trying to balance characters, words, and lines on the board in different variations in an esthetic manner.
There’s something familiar about this. A feeling like I’ve been here before, not in this situation exactly, but in the middle of the chaos.
All I know for sure is that I feel like I can handle it much better than if this was happening a year ago.
Hello, I’m an introvert.
When going through Psychology 1101 to cover a required science elective, I studied the characteristics of introversion and extroversion, but the material never really resonated with me. As I saw it, there are varying degrees of both, I fit somewhere on the introverted side of the scale, and this was the extent of the application of such a subject.
I can force myself to be social, friendly, cheerful (what Shirley and I call being on), but I can only do this for limited amounts of time. Usually I can keep it going just a few hours for a party or gathering, or as long as a few days as required if we’re out camping or snowboarding, but never longer than this.
The rest of the time I spend in my room, away from the world, because the social interactions of everyday life are a huge drain on me. When I’m alone, I recharge in a way I can’t explain. I’ve spent years feeling guilty for this behaviour. The North American attitude is that there’s something wrong with being quiet or unsocial. The most striking memory I have of this was during frosh week, when others would constantly harass me to go drinking, or dancing, or partying with a bunch of people I had never met before.
Now there’s an explanation that makes more sense to me than a simple degree on a scale. In a recent article, neuroscience researcher Marti Olsen Laney talks about the connections between introversion and biology. “It impacts all areas of their lives: how they process information, how they restore their energy, what they enjoy and how they communicate.”
I realize that there’s a greatly significant correlation between the way I behave and my introverted mindset. Introversion is an attitude that affects almost every aspect of my life, deeply rooted to a physiological level. It isn’t something I should be ashamed of or embarrassed about.
And if I can come out of my shell every now and then, I’ll be alright.