As someone who has always been relatively introverted, I have poked my share of fun at extroverts.
And, in my personal experience, the greatest number of extroverts in my friendship circles have been people dedicated to the theatre.
Even though I used to be a theatrical type myself, I have made all the jokes. For example, theatre kids spend all of their time learning to project, but no-one ever teaches them how to shut up. In short, I've been a little bit of a jerk. I stopped doing theatre after my first year of university, in part because I realised that doing theatre meant letting go of self-imposed limitations in a way I just wasn't prepared for at that time.
Since then I have happily put myself on stage, but strictly on my terms only. That is until very recently, when in a moment of weakness I agreed to play a role in a comedy musical about serial killers. Before the first read-through I was in a foul mood. I was a ball of tension, emanating nerves. I grumpily told my flatmate I was going to go to the rehearsal and then tell the rehearsal I wouldn't be able to do it after all. But then something strange happened. I showed up to rehearsal and I had a really nice time.
I suddenly realised that walking into a room full of extroverts is so much easier than walking into a room full of the painfully shy. These theatre people were immediately welcoming and easy to talk to. They didn't notice my nerves, or, if they did, they didn't point them out. After five years of circulating in the indie music scene, a community populated almost exclusively by moody, brooding introverts, this was a welcome surprise.
As we worked through the piece, I learned that quite often it is my inhibitions that are embarrassing, rather than the act I am afraid of. There was a moment where I finally cottoned on to the idea that if you match the enthusiasm of those around you, then you're not going to be the sore thumb, but if you hold back, that is when your behaviour becomes obvious. Particularly, I realised that if I was going to hold back during warm-ups then I certainly wasn't going to be able to perform my role as well as the others, who were more than happy to prance about pretending to walk a dog while knitting a jumper.
The exuberant silliness that hadn't made sense to me in the past finally had a clear purpose. It seemed as though the actors in this show were willing to have all kinds of fully embodied moments. I don't know how much of that came naturally, or how much came from being in the theatre, but I think at a certain point that doesn't really matter anymore. Of course, not everyone in the cast was an extrovert, and you certainly don't have to be an extrovert to be an actor. What really struck me was that everyone was prepared to give openly and enthusiastically to social situations, and to push through their personal limitations.
I doubt I am suddenly going to become the kind of person who spontaneously breaks into song in a public place, and that's fine, I don't want that. But over the past month and a-half I've started to feel really good about letting myself go just a little more, and I think there is a lot us introverts can learn about ourselves by spending a little time with those on the other end of the spectrum.
- Millie Lovelock is a Dunedin student.
