It's an extrovert's world and I'm just living in it.

It's true, isn't it? Extroversion is so often seen as the desirable trait. Introverts have to learn how to overcome their introversion. Even writers are encouraged to overcome introverted tendencies because writing can be more about selling the product than creating the product. Writing! One of the most introverted of endeavors seems to favor those who are unafraid to approach strangers, network, self-promote, make friends easily, and cast aside any natural reticence. Yes, it's an extrovert's world and the rest of us have to scramble to keep up.

I've always viewed my introversion as a disability, something to be conquered or fixed.

Then my adorable hubby forwarded me this link. If you consider yourself an introvert, I urge you to take a look. The link provides some explanation as to why you might behave in certain ways. But, it also offers reassurance.

The part that particularly resonated with me was:

"Myth #10 - Introverts can fix themselves and become Extroverts.

A world without Introverts would be a world with few scientists, musicians, artists, poets, filmmakers, etc. That being said, there are still plenty of techniques an Extrovert can learn in order to interact with Introverts. (Yes, I reversed these two terms on purpose to show you how biased our society is.) Introverts cannot "fix themselves" and deserve respect for their natural temperament and contributions to the human race. In fact, one study (Silverman, 1986) showed that the percentage of introverts increases with IQ."

Not to say that we shouldn't strive to connect with our fellow humans, but isn't that just the most refreshing thing you've heard in ages? A simple acceptance and celebration of introverts. Yes, we're at a slight societal disadvantage, but there isn't anything wrong with us. It's just another way of being.

What about you? Are you introverted? If so, do you view it as an advantage or a disadvantage? What strategies have you developed to help deal with an increasingly extroverted world?

A Short(ish) Tale of Santiago, Chile

Hubby and I set out, tired and strong, to brave the city and crack open its covers. The sky is a blue so perfect we can barely believe in it; only a thin layer of smog makes it real. Up north we forget about cloudless days. Through the long winter we remember them only as fables.

But, we aren't up north. We're south, in a world where fans buzz through the night and windows crack open to admit the sounds and smells of the city. Our sneakers are dirty and all the clothes in our suitcases smell the same, like sunscreen, sweat, and lemons. It's morning and we're already sticky, but we don't mind.

We don't mind, because we have things to do! Places to see! A map covered in stars and a whole day to fill.

But, first, a fence. An iron slice between city and garden. Of course, we must explore. Was there ever any doubt? Three breaths and we're through the gate staring at what appears to be our own personal garden in the midst of the city. An ode to Japan where a koiless pond sits and a sign proclaims that there is no water.

A tiny man with a clipboard appears and demands that we sign his sheet. He's wearing a uniform, so we do, then watch as he wanders away. We continue.

The winding pathways are shadowed by trees, lined with stone walls, and dotted with the occasional terrace. Ivy covers everything, crawling through cracks and climbing up to meet the sun. We see no one, except for a couple vigorously making out on a stretch of lawn. We hurry on, giving them the privacy they obviously desire.

The garden is overgrown and crumbling. "This is so weird," we whisper and though neither of us verbalizes it, I know we're both half-waiting for a fawn or fairy to step out from the shadows. This can't be our world, the world of pavement, litter, and endless noise. Without even meaning to, we've entered the land we spent our whole childhoods trying to get to.

We keep circling, realizing that above us is a hill, with even more pathways. A few wrong turns and we find our way up. The path is never straight and sometimes it goes nowhere, meaing we have to turn back. A couple kisses on a bench carved out of a wall. Trees provide shade, but they also conceal what it is we're heading towards. Where are we going? We only know that we're going up. Whichever path leads upward, that's our way.

Up a row of stairs, onto a checkered landing and through a pair of stone pillars topped by lanterns and we find what we were looking for. A brick castle and a courtyard. Both are covered in ivy. Fountains spurt out water and venders sit in brightly colored booths waiting for tourists. Here are people at last, but still the world is hushed. Pairs wander, hand in hand.

We look around and see that the road hasn't ended.

The stones grow larger and odder, starting to fit together by accident instead of intention. Across a moat and we're at the final climb. But, the stairs are narrow and so deep. They wander all over the place, as though unsure of where they'd like to end. Wet spots are treacherous and I try not to think of what would happen if I, in my rubber flip flops, were to slip. Red flowers line the way. When I look up I can see archways, towers, and balustrades, all crumbling and all turning pink in the sunlight.

Then we're there, at the highest lookout. From every side the city is visible. We are in the middle of it all, staring out at a modern world from our ancient tower. We don't know what to say, because words are insufficient to describe the moment. Instead, we snap pictures, letting photographs stand in for statements, but looking through our camera viewfinders we know there is no way to capture it. Little snips, maybe, but this, the beauty, wonder and miracle of this moment, will only ever exist in our memories. I don't know what to think or feel, except joy. I hold my husband's hand and think, "This is why." Why what? Why everything.

And, that's how I spent my spring break.

Reader's log:

27. Sapphique - Catherine Fisher

28. Blue Bloods - Melissa De La Cruz

29. The Book Thief - Markus Zusak

30. Neverwhere - Neil Gaiman

31. If I Stay - Gayle Forman

Currently listening:

"Who You Are" - Jessie J