The Musings of an Ixtrovert

“Well, I’m an N,” she explained.

We were sitting in R.A. class discussing different communication styles and personality types. We had all taken a survey giving us four letters that categorized us according to trends in our personalities. The only result I remembered from my survey was an “E” for “Extrovert.” However, as I read the list of qualities of an Introvert versus an Extrovert, I found that I identified with both personalities, though not wholly with either of them. I was curious as to where I fit in the spectrum.

Refusing to trust the results spit out by said survey, I’ve become more observant of myself over the past week or so. Here is the data I’ve gathered:
• I’m certainly not afraid of people, but I absolutely love my alone time.
• Often, I prefer playing the piano or guitar to myself over going out to social gatherings. But then again, I have nothing against strumming my guitar while socializing with a few close friends.
• My three favorite places in the world: the temple, the cemetery, the MOA (respectively). Nevertheless, I love sharing those places with one, maybe two people at a time who are important to me.
• I love intimate conversation, but heck, I can work the crowd at a big party.

Based on my findings, I’ve labeled myself an Ixtrovert rather than an Entrovert. I feel like the introversion is more dominant and I feel like I might know myself better than a silly quiz. I use my alone time to refresh and recharge, to do things that I love. I’m not against people, I love people, I love watching people and observing their peculiar behaviors. Truth be told, people fascinate me. But I guess, I can fascinate me too. The conversations in my head (as insane as that sounds) are also intriguing and that’s probably why I find so much joy in writing; I get to recount those conversations in a way that can include others. But therein lies the dilemma. Writing needs an audience just as much as talking needs an audience just as much as thinking needs an audience. Even if it’s your own self, it’s somebody.

I used to say, “I don’t need people.”
One time when I said that, my friend responded to me skeptically, raising an eyebrow. Suddenly, I felt horribly arrogant.
“Well, I mean, I need people, but I don’t need them, you know?”
Of course, my response made about as much sense as a goose wearing a tutu. What I was trying to explain was this idea that I am an introvert, but not so introverted that it turns me into a recluse. I’m extroverted, but I don’t require constant social interaction to feel alive. But maybe most people are like that. So maybe I’m not an Ixtrovert after all. Maybe I’m just me.