It taught me how to speak extrovert. Extrovert is a tedious language. It requires a lot of words. Spoken out loud. To others. Sometimes to many-- at the same time.
This is because extroverts think with their mouths wide open. Introverts, on the other hand, think with open ears and open eyes, and generally, as God intended, inside their brains.
Extroverts love to talk, especially about themselves. They seem to try to comprehend the world by warping the world around themselves. Extroverts are like black holes. They have an amazing and enviable ability to bring all things to themselves, bend it, consume it and make it their own. This is why extroverts are the power brokers of the world. You might think I'm out to mock extroverts but I'm not. I am ever fascinated by them. Besides, if I were to mock them it would only be an expression of frustrated jealousy. The power to draw energy from a crowd of people and to channel that energy into a personal marketing campaign for the spoils of love and money is one that I admire from afar.
Linus knows the pain of the introvert. He is not easily spooled into dialogue about the obvious. Like most introverts he is regarded as "shy" or "anti-social". In truth, introverts just won't waste precious socializing energy on ego engorging chit chat leading to an axiomatic conclusion. Introverts are simply bored by the self evident.
Introverts reserve such energy for the really important things like identifying the three most important people to greet so the actuality of your presence can be confirmed later when everyone asks on Monday why you weren't at the party on Saturday; texting your emergency contact to call you in fifteen minutes with a fake emergency; and locating the most convenient restroom and all viable exits.
The Introvert Advantage helped me to understand that extroverts are really, really, really annoyed by the Linus in the room. It's like checking out a book from a librarian who insists on quoting the last two paragraphs of whatever you've picked. Introverts often respond with a blank stare during conversations because the most obvious response can't possibly be the anticipated response...thoughtful reflection later...the answer is ten minutes behind the conversation and too heavy for the levity of the moment.
What is Linus to do? To bless the topic with the sacred introspection anything worth talking about deserves is to ask too much of the common extrovert. To blow off the topic with smug indifference anything not worth talking about ruins the simple game of human interplay. Oh Linus. It's not neuroscience (as much as you rather it were). Make little Sally feel important. That's all Hoyle's instructs for this game of social play. She's not asking you about a patch over her eye. She asking you about her: to notice her, to focus on her, to be concerned about her. Sally just wants Linus to say, "Yes. I noticed that when you walked in. Tell me about your eye patch, Sally." Nod and smile a bit. Let Sally show you what she knows about her condition. Maybe Sally wants you to believe she is smarter than you give her credit. Maybe, in this moment, it really isn't all about her. Maybe, in this moment, it's all about you, Linus. And while you may know a lot about amblyopia ex anopsia what do you really know about Sally? Between them, which stores the richer knowledge that will better you in the end?
http://www.amazon.com/Introvert-Advantage-Thrive-Extrovert-World/dp/0761123695
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