Introverts are egg people. They’re not hiding anything (per say), they are mostly reserved. And once they start to get comfortable, they are as open and talkative as anybody else. “Don't think of introversion as something that needs to be cured,” writes Susan Cain in her book Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking.
Extroverts, on the other hand, are onion people. They contain so many layers of bombast that it’s hard to know when they are being authentic, showy, or just spewing flotsam. Yet, extroverts are most likely to be leaders because they talk loud and carry a big stick.
George Mason economics professor and Oxford humanities associates Robin Hanson sums up the egg and onion divergence:
I’ve sometimes been tempted to classify people as egg people and onion people. Onion people have layer after layer after layer. You peel it back, and there’s still more layers. You don’t really know what’s underneath. Whereas egg people, there’s a shell, and you get through it, and you see what’s on the inside.
Are ambiverts egg or onion people?
Ambiverts are more like salad people, easy to digest and mix in with all types of other folks and scenarios. They’re adaptable like a chameleon depending on whatever social situation they’re in.
We all contain multitudes. But it is the mouth that separates us apart, with different levels of signaling.
Words are the original memes, for which some things are still best unshared and unsaid. Sometimes silence does all the messy talking, reveals all that needs to be conveyed. As Susan Cain puts it: “We have two ears and one mouth and we should use them proportionally.”
Some people are obsessed with work. It defines them, gives them a structure. Without work, they'd sail away at the mercy of the waves and get lost at sea.
But technology facilitates creativity. The accountant becomes a music producer at night or a photographer on the weekend. He or she identifies more as being an artist than a professional that crunches numbers. Their online persona is who they really want to be.
Everyone wants to pursue something meaningful. We want to do something that matters. Work, whether it's the day job or an artist, is supposed to reflect our life philosophies. Most jobs though are solutions to a practical problem: we need the cash to live.
The pressure to blend work and life is the result of our obsession with the careerism in a twenty-four seven hyperconnected world. So what would we do with all that free time if we didn't work? We'd probably just do stuff: read, hang out with friends and family, watch and play sports, and listen to music. It would look like a lot of a vacation.
Will we be ok when the robots take over, and the concept of labor fades away? Will making art suffice? We're born off balance. It's how we dance with the uncertain future that shapes who we are.
Most people think of writing as a creative outlet. But it's also an instrument for coping.
According to recent studies, writing your own memoir has various psychological benefits. Whether for private eyes or for public viewing, writing extensively about traumatic events helps you break free from the cage of anxiety.
“Psychologists believe that by converting emotions and images into words, the author starts to organize and structure memories, particularly memories that may be difficult to comprehend and accept.”
Words can save your life
Making sense of the past not only gives you perspective, it also strengthens your personal operating system by refocusing attention on what matters.
Want to better control your inner-narrative? Consider funneling your thoughts from mind to paper by starting your own memoir.
Dopamine is a superpower. Our brain hunts it down with the expectation of feeding it with some type of satisfaction, be it coffee or social media.
But our anticipation often exceeds reality. The coffee aroma smells better than the grounded beans actually taste. We only go on vacation with the promise of taking photos and sharing them on Instagram. Looking forward to these experiences energize us but fade just as quickly once we realize them.
Our neurons swim in desire, all the while ignoring the risks for drowning in it. Like a magnet, we are drawn to the pleasures of stimulants and irreality.
There's no stopping us from swinging into the emotional rollercoaster, only to find that the high is not permanent like a tattoo. We can only rent moods and activities for so long.