This morning, I was laser-focused on my work -- so much so that my co-worker questioned why I was so quiet. It's not the first time he's remarked on how quiet I can get when I'm very busy. On a few other occasions, he's stated that the office has been so quiet that he could almost hear himself think. People who are like this get on my nerves. (My apologies if you react similarly in quiet settings.) We get enough noise out on the street and at home. A little silence never hurt anybody, so what's the big deal? People who hold a disdain for quietness tend to be as such: Highly extroverted  Rely on external stimuli to stay focused and entertained (other people, etc.) Not particularly deep thinkers -- they tend to avoid solitary pursuits like reading and writing Have a high need for attention Are probably not that busy themselves if they have the time to notice how quiet it is Can be awfully insecure -- they suspect that people must be quiet for a reason ...

I'm still on the fence as to whether I want to have kids, but one thing I've observed about friends and relatives with children that deters me is that their whole identity seems to revolve around their little ones. Do I want that to happen to me? Not sure. I've seen how all-consuming having children can be. My sisters and closest friend, all of whom have one child, seem worn out, their social lives having bit the dust a long time ago. Most parents say things eventually get better, and that somehow you adapt. But it's obvious that having children presents a slew of opportunity costs, including not being able to go out as much and whenever you like, having less money, forgoing quietness and solitude, not being able to sleep in, and so on. What's more, it seems that once you have a baby, your identity becomes wrapped around parenthood -- now you're not John Doe, but John Doe Jr.'s dad. Those who loved and watched sports pre-kids can hardly keep up with th...