About four years ago, I bought a postcard I had no intention of mailing. A little bookstore in my hometown sold it to me for a little more expensive than it probably should have been. "Kill your timid notion" was what it said.

I had no idea that this was more than just a saying. But in fact, it is a yearly experimental arts festival in Dundee, Scotland, which incorporates art form genres such as minimalism, drone, noise, improv, and free jazz.

Despite how awesome all of that sounds, that was not the reason I bought the postcard. I bought it because I wanted to do what it said.

As a naturally introverted person, I find alone time wholly valuable. I rarely use the word "shy" to describe myself anymore, but I still find myself turning inward most of the time.

Although there is nothing wrong with turning inward (in fact, I encourage it, because it allows for mass amounts of personal growth and all that hippie babble that most of us find weird), I have always wanted to be more adventurous. This card was a projection of the desired growth of my own extroverted tendencies.

I live on a college campus right in the middle of the city. There is so much to do. When it comes to the opportunities available, there are incredible ones left and right, inside and outside of the university. If I had been where I am now with the same mindset I had four years ago, I might have been saying, "Wow, there's nothing to do here. I hate this place." When you don't look for opportunities, you don't find them.

Now, you could substitute timid notions for lazy notions, disinterested notions, I-don't-see-the-point-in-doing-that-I'd-rather-watch-Netflix notions. But whatever you call it, it is the thing that stops you from getting up and doing things. It closes your eyes to the bright, blinking signs that say "Hey! There's an opportunity over here if you just keep coming this way!"

Take clubs, for instance. If you're a college student living on a college campus, there are most likely many clubs and organizations that cater directly to your interests. Yet, why are clubs so rarely well-attended?

In my experience during my first year of college, I stopped going to the clubs I thought I was so deeply interested in because I stopped caring. I gained a timidness that made me think I would rather nap than learn sign language with the Sign Language Club. I gained a timidness that caused me to scroll through social media alone in my room instead of learning awesome routines on the dance team.

I don't remember my naps. I don't look back on my social media scrolling and think "Damn, those were some good times."