Thursday, December 12, 2013


There's a rule at work about lunch. No one is allowed to eat at their desk. This rule was implemented as a way to keep people from avoiding one another. To increase socialization. To break down the walls between the factions and armies and teams that almost always form in the workplace. The problem, however, is that the break room is tiny. It makes me uncomfortable. No one here shares my interests and I can't stand the sound of the weird old guy when he eats.

I'm not sure how to define my preferences. I'm not anti-social, but other humans (especially co-workers) annoy the fuck out of me. I understand the philosophy and theory behind forcing people to eat together. It's cool. But why all the hate for introverts?

As a child, I liked playing alone. I liked not sharing my toys. I liked knowing exactly where Darth Vader was going to be when I got home. I created vast worlds with my imagination and explored them enthusiastically via Lego, or Star Wars action figure, or Matchbox car. I wasn't lonely. I had friends. Many friends. I played outside a lot with my friends. But when it came to peaceful, relaxing moments of my day I cherished being alone.

In high school and college, I loathed teachers and professors who forced students to work in groups. I'm a friendly person. I do smile and greet strangers in the hallways and on elevators. But my interactions with other humans is almost always best when it happens naturally.

Some of my favorite places have always been libraries. Because they have those private, walled desks usually in the back hidden away from the world. Nothing can bother me there. It's license to disappear without ridicule. (I should get one of those desks... for work... to eat lunch in!)

I'm an introverted person. I'm a nice person. And I want to be left alone most of the time. I don't understand why not being sociable is demonized so often. Why can't there be celebration for the quiet ones. For the observers. The guys like me who prefer to watch from the sidelines. The thinkers. The poets. Sure, we don't often get invited to the cool parties or catch the eyes of all the popular cheerleaders like the loud-mouthed ones. But we're deep, baby. So deep.

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