 Have you noticed the sudden prevalence of news articles, quizzes and other social media discussing the qualities of introverts vs. extroverts?
Yeah, me too. For years, I thought that being an introvert denoted a shy (even anti-social) wallflower. Someone who is outgoing and confident in a crowd has to be an extrovert, then, right? Not so much. A friend who has done some pretty extensive research into the nuances of the two “verts” recently explained to me the basic difference between them, and it’s not what I expected. The divergence apparently lies in the way that each one recharges his or her batteries: An extrovert needs to go out amongst the throngs to refresh his spirits, while an introvert seeks out quiet time alone to rejuvenate herself. Hmm. Well then, despite being self-assured, friendly and unafraid to engage random strangers in conversation, by this definition, I am an introvert at heart.
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 One of my favorite late-1980s science fiction movies is an under-the-sea adventure, called “The Abyss,” starring Ed Harris and Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio. Most of the action takes place on an oil rig resting on the Atlantic Ocean floor.
There’s a scene where Harris’ lead character, Bud, has to dive into ridiculously deep waters to save the crew from certain death. To survive that insane depth, he has to employ a special suit with a weird breathing device that aspirates liquid instead of air. At first, Bud fights against inhaling the strange, milky fluid. As it enters his lungs, his body violently rebels. But then he relaxes a bit and starts to get used to this new way of breathing. Pretty soon, he’s good to go.  Since he was born in October 2012, I have made a concerted effort to visit with my sweet little (honorary) nephew, Raylan, at least a few times a month. (OK, I go over there to see his parents, too. His mom is my best friend, Whitney.)
During my last visit, Whitney and I were talking about Raylan’s many emerging, unique traits — what makes him giggle like a madman, what foods he loves, and which of his toys and blankets he favors. It’s wonderful to live vicariously through this new little family, because God knows I am done having babies myself. Talking about baby stuff got me to thinking about my son, Ethan’s, favorites back in the day. He’s 18 now, so most of his playthings are packed away in our basement for safekeeping, except for the few he has kept in random drawers in his room. |
About Amy HiggsA former newspaper columnist, Amy takes her random, slice-of-life stories to the web. After 12 years, she's still just saying. Archives
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