I happened to see that Eric Clapton, one of my husband’s real life guitar heroes was in town this week. We grabbed some last minute tix near the stage at the Gwinnett arena and had the most incredible night. Along with thousands of other blue jeaned baby boomers, we were transported by his brilliant riffs.
Clapton took us through a journey of his music through the decades. He was very different from the opening act, Roger Daltry (clearly the extrovert ). He never introduced the songs (we all knew them anyway) and only spoke softly to name the band members after their solos.
He didn’t put on foolish grins or try to win us over. He simply was himself, a gifted musican, clearly in his own world. He let his talent speak, or rather play, for itself.
Clapton grew up an introvert. He spent many hours alone with his guitar dealing with a rough childhood, honing his gift. Later on he battled alcohol and drugs. None of that mattered last night. The man and his guitar shined with a quiet grace. I am so grateful I was there to witness it.
There is nothing quite as nerve-racking as walking up to the stage to expose your every weakness, physical and mental, before an audience who is all too familiar with the repertoire. You think you will make a mistake, then you do, and everybody knows when it happened. Continue reading the rest of this article...
“They (Introverts) just didn’t place a larger weight on social stimuli than they did on any other stimuli, of which flowers are one example,” said.
“[This] supports the claim that introverts, or their brains, might be indifferent to people — they can take them or leave them, so to speak. The introvert’s brain treats interactions with people the same way it treats encounters with other, non-human information, such as inanimate objects for example,” Inna Fishman said.
They concluded that, “The results strongly suggest that human faces, or people in general, hold more significance for extroverts, or are more meaningful for them.” Continue reading the rest of this article...
What’s mystifying to Stewart—and likely to anyone with either a shred of empathy or a tendency to clam up in public—is the looking- glass reality in which her manner, rather than eliciting sympathy or mere shrugs, has made her a figure of derision. “I think it’s funny that when I go onstage to accept an award, they think I’m nervous, uncomfortable, and awkward—and I am—but those are bad words for them,” Stewart says. Continue reading the rest of this article...
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