I was just rereading Jonathan Rauch's 2003 essay for the Atlantic, Caring for Your Introvert. Incidentally, this article was one of the first to spread through the nascent blogosphere (remember Blogdex? It was on the top of that list for weeks…IIRC.) One part stuck out as a charmingly dusty:
Leave an extrovert alone for two minutes and he will reach for his cell phone. In contrast, after an hour or two of being socially "on," we introverts need to turn off and recharge. My own formula is roughly two hours alone for every hour of socializing. This isn't antisocial. It isn't a sign of depression. It does not call for medication. For introverts, to be alone with our thoughts is as restorative as sleeping, as nourishing as eating. Our motto: "I'm okay, you're okay—in small doses."
Now of course, an introvert is just as likely to play with his phone, using it as a social shield (Don't talk to me while I'm sitting here alone at the bar, waiting for my friend.)
But have we changed? Social media drains me like a large party might. I just deactivated Facebook. And I don't @ much on Twitter. Too often it feels like the "fog of [an extrovert's] 98-percent-content-free talk," as Rauch put it.
I'm an introvert and an online introvert. A hard INTP, (which I think would be the most likely Myers-Briggs type for someone introverted in both spheres.) This doesn't mean i don't see the value of social media. I just use it my own way.
I know a lot of introverts who are online extroverts, which is perfectly reasonable. Maybe they see social media as a shortcut for getting necessary small talk — how's the new job? where are you moving? – out of the way. And then there are extroverts who are online introverts. They really don't have time for Twitter or Facebook — too busy partying with friends or talking on the phone or other social activities, to sit at a desk and type.
About the time I deactivated my Facebook account, I came across this essay by Carmen Joy King about why she did the same:
Ironically, the decision to destroy my carefully built-up virtual image came as a result of wanting to enhance my profile. All that particular week I'd been hungry for new quotes on my page, something to reflect the week I'd been having: something introspective. I perused a quotes website and found this one attributed to Aristotle:
"We are what we repeatedly do."
I became despondent. What, then, was I? If my time was spent changing my profile picture on Facebook, thinking of a clever status update for Facebook, checking my profile again to see if anyone had commented on my page, Is this what I am? A person who re-visits her own thoughts and images for hours each day? And so what do I amount to? An egotist? A voyeur?
We are what we repeatedly do. I tried really hard to be one of those people who responds to every email, every @, every comment on this blog. I just can't do it. Any expectation of me to act differently feels like the pressure I feel for acting standoffish with people I just meet.
The other day, I overheard a woman tell her friend about her young niece:
"She's really outgoing…"
"That's so much better."
"Right. So much cuter."
I thought of my own failure to live up to the prevailing definition of cuteness as a child. The grownups who couldn't understand why this seven year old wanted to curl under a tree with her notebook rather than play dodgeball, let alone never ordered the whole family and all of their friends into the living room to watch her tap dance and sing. If I ever have a daughter, and if she should disappoint the world for never having a snappy comeback or wanting to play peek-a-boo with strangers in the park; not only will I think that's adorable, I will encourage and reward such decidedly uncute behavior.
Of course, part of this has to do with shifting expectations of femininity. Society is largely uneasy with women who enjoy ideas, and even more so, those who enjoy time alone. We can size up a good hostess in an instant, but a wallflower requires effort that many are unwilling to initiate.
I don't want anyone to think I'm mean or that I don't care. Usually, if I don't respond to something it's because I don't think I have anything worthwhile to say.
Social media is like a party. It facilitates meeting new people, and fosters casual acquaintances rather than deep friendships. Most of us communicate with best friends over email and instant messages instead.
I am probably revealing my bias in this post. Most of my favorite people are introverts and introverts are certainly my…sexual preference. A lot of people who are awkward in those moments you're waiting in queue for a movie or deciding where to eat dinner, have come through for me in times when I've needed someone. And a lot of people who seem to radiate from within, just wouldn't make it to the point of the conversation where I'd reveal whatever it was that might be troubling me.
My line between friendship and acquaintanceship is this: if I'm ever in a hospital will this person take time out of his day to come to see me? I can't say I count on but a dozen or so followers on Twitter. And how often they @ me isn't a measure of it.
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