I like to drive aimlessly by myself. I specify “by myself” for two reasons. First, I have yet to find many people who are comfortable with sitting in the passenger seat while I drive aimlessly. I guess they tend to think it’s a waste of time, or get anxious without a destination, or they don’t like me (highly unlikely). Secondly, I am an introvert—at least most of the time. In general, I find the word I to be pretty ambiguous. I right now probably view things quite differently than the I that will emerge in twenty minutes, or tomorrow. I think I am composed of at least 20 different I’s. Or mathematically:I= ∑ (I1 + I2 + … I20 ).Aside from all 20 of those being math nerds, I’d say about 16 would be introverts; the other four have high levels of caffeine.Overall, I like being an introvert. People often alter what they say depending on how they want to be perceived, and their point of view is often derived from circumstances in their own lives. Within myself, however, there are no hidden agendas. This basic level of self-trust also allows me to find a great deal of strength and motivation from myself.There are also times when I hate this internal dialog. When my internal dialog becomes a rambling sequence of observations, it feels like I’m listening to some horrible CD track stuck on repeat. Being stuck in this uncreative loop is nothing new. Even when I was seven years old, I remember lying awake all night because I couldn’t get my brain to shut up. My parents just thought I wanted attention, so while the sleeplessness never went away, I didn’t mention them anymore.But when I drive, it’s like I can hit the mute button, or at least keep it on one comprehensible channel. 60 MPH on Sunset at 2:00 AM—that’s peaceful; that’s escape. I drive to build a sanctuary outside my mind.
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