How to Be Interesting

So there I am, sitting in the student lounge, chocolate smeared across my cheek, an anthropology textbook cracked open on my lap; I'm down to my last pencil, and "Toothbrush" is playing for what seems to be the fifth time in thirty minutes. It's Monday morning. Somehow the din of the surrounding chatter, the smack of pool balls, and the clacking of computer keys only add to the pangs of alienation. Everyone in here must be at least six feet tall and/or wearing flawless makeup from Sephora. I, meanwhile, am small, timid, have been walking around with a conspicuous rolling bag, and apparently give a constant expression of 'I don't know what the heck I'm doing'. Perfect.

My first day of college began spotlessly-- and by spotlessly, I of course mean that I somehow managed to get into hot water before my first class. Try beating that one, folks. (And as a side note, avoid power walking in the library).

Although I'd tried everything to feel prepared for this day (the usual visualization, school supply splurge, crying in a corner, etc.) there was nothing to keep me from the writhing mass of anxiety I became the moment I walked up the staircase to History. Walked is nondescript: My bag thump, thump, thumped up every step and I barely caught myself out of a stumble at the top of the flight. I'm certain my mom would have reminded me, "Whether you think you can or you think you can't, you're right." Unfortunately, my brain was very committed to analyzing every possible negative outcome.

It's been said that I allow dreams to influence me too deeply, and this may be true. I see them, however, as subconscious references rather than omens or mandates. And almost every morning, I force Hogan into the role of psychotherapist. It eludes me as to how he's so enduringly patient."I had a dream last night", I start-- he must be considering revoking our friendship for the third time this week-- "I couldn't sing. It was really distressing."

Imagine him giving an exaggerated expression of concern accompanied by no vocal change whatsoever. That's Hogan's usual. It's endearing, trust me.

He says, "Huh, sorry. Any idea what the psychological reasoning is?"

The dream had involved evil sororities, Myers-Briggs types, and my sister stealing my singing voice. My memory of a dream is rarely vague, but the plots themselves are convoluted-- more often than not, I find the gaping holes in logic difficult to explain. In this dream my sister had stolen my talents one by one and been praised for them while I struggled to fit in. Apparently she was kind of Ursula, but worse and with less legs. There was a goat somewhere here. I was playing with a snow globe. Idk.

Hogan's gotten used to me analyzing things like this to an almost unhealthy extent-- the underlying psychological metaphors, and so on. It stems from my regrettable middle school mentality. My parents disliked Freud, therefore I vehemently obsessed over him. So it goes. Sorry, Mom.

"It's because I'm scared of entering college and not being comparatively smart, or special, at all. The only things that could give me an edge academically are Jackie's talents. Focus and organization... which I don't have. I'll just be stumbling along."

And that, dear friends, is what eats me up at night:

Hahaha, of course not. You probably wouldn't be reading this blog if you weren't looking forward to hearing about my latest dumb decision-- you all know it's coming by this point.

Anyways, there I am in the student lounge. I've spent my first two-hour break between classes color-coding the syllabus and marking all the assignments in my planner (I'd like you to acknowledge that as a feat for me), and now that it's the second break of the day, time is stretching on into what feels like fantastic gravitational singularity. I've already gone to the cafe for lunch, fed a squirrel, and speculated the possibility that I could get through this whole school year without talking to anyone. Maybe if I pretended to be deaf? More on that later.

I glance down into my bag and the corner of the Book peeks up at me. The cover is an almost obnoxious shade of mustard yellow, yet there's something transfixing about it-- perhaps compared to long passages on dendrochronology, perhaps because of all the events leading up to this-- I pull it up with two fingers and slide the textbook off of my lap. The title screams, in bold black letters, and on no uncertain terms, "This Book Will Change Your Life".

Rude.

And so, I open to the first page. 

Now, ladies and gents, a quick fun fact about me: I need things to be hard. If they aren't, I feel insulted, lose interest, and then purposefully worsen the situation until it meets my criteria of uncomfortability. Examples? Okie doke. 

So imagine, if you will, my reaction to the following: I open to the first page, eagerly anticipating the wondrous experiences that await me, only to meet the passage, "As this is your first day, you should warm up with an easy task that will only change your life a little bit." What-- WHAT?! 

Oh, and furthermore, "Choose one of the following options". The first one was "Do one press-up". I feel like that kind of sets the tone for the rest of the list. 

I would like to state that, for the record, this list of things is half comprised of my daily activities. 

That being said, I am not, by nature, athletically inclined-- psychologically or physically. My daily exercise consists of walking to the fridge and back, to the freezer and back, and wandering aimlessly around the kitchen while I try to decide whether I'm hungry or just bored. When my sister Olivia competes in the Olympics (as she surely will) I would like you all to reflect on this irony. 

That being said, I am marginally good at two things: ice skating and yoga. I guard these jealously, because I have to be better at something, anything, even if only because they've never tried. We call it the eldest sister complex.

Anyways, that's how I ended up at the gym on Saturday.
You may be asking how a yoga class relates to this challenge to do one singular press-up, and in response, I politely ask you not to judge me.

(I enjoy yoga for the simple reason that it makes me feel sore, in a good way. Well, okay, also-- it's the least possible effort, yet people still ask, with a mixture of awe and understandable surprise, "Oh, wow, you do yoga??" I think it gives them the impression that I've also saved fifteen orphaned puppies, dabbled in Taoism, and drink green tea every morning.)

But that's not the important part. I hope you haven't forgotten that I have issues.

On the way out of the yoga studio, every Saturday morning, you'll pass by several, equally strident group exercise classes. They're all filled with muscular thirty-somethings in color-coordinated athletic wear and high-brand running shoes who are, unequivocally, better than you. So I really can't explain why I looked at the schedule, saw something called "BODYCOMBAT", and said to myself, "hm, that sounds like a reasonable idea." But I did, and I walked right into a room blasting pop rock and boasting a regime of cardioboxing.

If I could offer you one piece of advice for every year, all the gloriously pragmatic bits that I dish out but fail to follow myself, I have a pretty good idea of what I'd be saying.

Okay, but trust me, this time I have good advice. I promise. I triple pinkie promise (ish).
Now listen up; I'm only going to say this once.

Anyways, I walk in there, feeling energized from yoga, and within about five minutes, come to the very definitive conclusion that, out of everyone in the room, I would be the first to die in a zombie apocalypse. They have rooted me out as the weakest specimen, I am sure. "Uma Thurman" is playing. The instructor has us doing roundhouse kicks and curb stomps to the beat. I'm wheezing. The lady next to me could take out a full grown Kodiak bear. 

Perhaps purely out of pity for me, the instructor advises us to "visualize" a scenario for our "technique". It gives more stamina and passion to those punches (I can attest to that).

So there I am! Fighting ninjas in the upper story of a fitness club while the music is going all bahDUMbahDUMbahDUMduhDUM (etc). They're swarming me from all directions, arising from the shadows. I feint to the right and swing my fist to catch one in the jaw-- he topples, because he's not actually a good ninja (due to a tragic backstory involving polymyalgia) -- and then I snap kick him in the ribs. The next strangles me from behind, I elbow him sharply to the stomach, everyone's cheering me on, and then--

Admittedly, I zoned out. Perhaps, you could say, got carried away. 

-- I uppercut myself straight in the jaw.

Don't ask me how or why this happened. 

Don't get me wrong, I'm spiteful and stubborn. I shrugged it off. We went on to punch imaginary speed bags and I walloped myself (more lightly this time) in the nose. Then across my own hand. "You could be a future boxer right here, you have the power and the drive," the instructor offered cheerfully. My hand was starting to bleed.

I walked out of there with an ego more wounded than my sore jugular. 

Now wait, here comes my favorite part. Usually, by 6am at the latest, Jackie is doing crunches in her room, having already jogged/walked the dogs, eaten breakfast, applied makeup, gotten dressed with acute fashionable tact, posted a flawless selfie on Instagram, and read her Bible. Now, knowing that, this is actually what she said to me.

And, of course, the book was there to remind me when I got home--

The Spring Clean

Whereas some people may undergo a blitz spring cleanup, my mission involved vacuuming doughnut crumbs from the inner lining of a purse and vigorously shaking the whole thing upside down. Why, you may ask? Well, my purse was about a quarter of my weight. I didn't notice, it took the efforts of someone chivalrously carrying it for me and nearly having their arm fall off-- "Dear goodness, what have you got in here?!" The answer is, mass equivalent to three icy exoplanets, a porcelain bath tub, and two grams. Give or take.

Pictured:

1. Sewing Kit~ There's one episode of The Suite Life on Deck where the ship gets struck with lighting at exactly New Years and one of those twins (idk) is forced to relive the experience over and over a la Groundhog Day. He keeps getting impeded from saving the day and altering the course by numerous obstacles, one of which being a torn dress which his "friend" (loosely applied term) needs mending. On try five or something, he packs a sewing kit, and it makes all the difference. I remember being a little kid watching this, taping that one exact episode and watching it over and over (irony), wondering about the possibility of getting stuck in a similar situation. And I kid you not, that's why I carry a sewing kit.
2. Green Die~ You never know when you might decide to gamble. It never hurts to be prepared.
3. Golden Key/Bottle Opener~ At my first-cousin-once-removed's wedding, we used many copies of these to pop open glasses of sparkling apple cider. My thought at the time was either "Huh, I could use this as a prop in a short film" or "I don't drink, but if I did...", but regardless, now I have it.
4. Stickers~ To remind myself and others that we've worked hard and are amazing
5. Chapstick~ I didn't expect to stumble into anything in my treasure trove here that actually had a reasonably practical application, so I'll pat myself on the back now. Except for, I put on Chapstick like Miranda Sings. Where are my gold star stickers?
6. Hair Ties~ To shoot at people, because why settle for maturity when you can have all the added benefits of not giving a hoot?
7. Mini Hair Brush~ "JULIA STOP TAKING MY THINGS" (My sister, circa 2011). I shortly thereafter acquired my own hairbrush, since I'd lost all the other ones.
8. Mini Notepad and Mechanical Pencil~ I'd like to say that I'm being productive and writing down homework, or maybe even something slightly endearing like reminders to treat kindly all those I love, but I'm really just spying on conversations and jotting down the good stuff. That crap is getting written into my books. #believabledialogue
9. Magnet~ This magnet is actually pretty weak, just strong enough to pick up a couple paperclips. But I keep thinking that I'll get into an emergency survival situation where I need to build a charged compass to escape the mountains and a man-eating Kodiak bear-- So rather than keeping, say, a compass, I keep this magnet.
10. Excedrin Pills~ Frequent migraines.
11. Photobooth Strips~ I could carry around pictures of my loved ones in a wallet or as my phone lock screen, but I actually don't have a wallet, and my lock screen is already a really nice picture of a flower that I don't have the heart to replace by way of sentimentality. Sorry Mom. I do like these pictures of us posing in silly hats, though.
12. Cheap Ring~ Have you ever been at a public place and had an authority figure say, "Oh, shoot, some small child probably left this behind. Here, do you want it?" Because, I have. We have no idea where the ring came from, but in my head, it was dropped from a mystic realm and bestows the magical powers of +2 dexterity and resistance to heat. Besides, it is really pretty. Side effects may include: harrowing guilt.
13. MUG Root Beer~ You may notice that the x3 denotes that I had three cans of root beer, all of them unopened, at the time I cleaned out my purse. The reason for this pertains to the aforementioned wedding, where my sister reached, in my mother's eyes, what is affectionately termed as "Redneck status". This being, "kleptomaniacally snatching several cans of soda from the coolers at a wedding, Jackie, for heaven's sake". Jackie was grounded from the refreshment area. Her response? A nudge in my direction, cajoling me to take some for her. She said she desperately needed stock her mini fridge and mom allows sugary substances only sparingly. The girl is a maniac, but I love her. Besides, it was freaking hilarious.
14. USB Drive~ Because I am a very busy woman and my files aren't going to carry themselves.
15. Bobby Pins~ My hair is 30 inches long, and it takes a gross about of pins to keep it up in even a messy bun. Also, they make fantastic emergency bookmarks, and they're even better at picking locks. Don't worry, I'm not a criminal. I just have vivid delusions that I could be a secret agent.
16. Cat Treats~ To feed to squirrels at the park
17. Watercolor Pencils~ (12 of them). I keep these around to illustrate in my Processing Journal or Georgics Notebook, both of which are fancy nomenclature for "Art Stuffs" and/or "Writing Scraps". I fancy myself an illustrator but really I just like looking at pretty flowers.
18. Matches~ In case of the "stuck in the mountains" scenario, etc. I'm terrified of being like the one ditzy white girl in a survival suspense film whom everyone considers a drag and they're all secretly relieved when she trips of a cliff. I feel like that would be me, and it makes me so mad at myself. Somehow, these matches will one day save me from that fate.
19. Assorted Cards~ I have lots of old gift cards with approximately 37 cents left on them, and I keep them around on the odd chance that there'll be a life-or-death situation where the fate of the universe demands that I buy a book at Barnes and Nobel-- and I'm short a quarter or two. As the world implodes around me, I collapse to my knees, crying out to the void that if I only had thirty-seven cents more the whole cosmos could have been saved. It's a rare chance, but according to quantum physics, anything is possible. 
20. Dried Rose Leaves~ "Why do you keep these?" "It helps me remain an enigma, a manic pixie dream girl, in the eyes of any author." (jk)
21. Emergency Book~  I'll admit it, this is a social crutch. I don't like to go anywhere without the escape route of a good novel; not because I dislike people or being in public, but because it's a security net for tense or draining situations. Books are a sanctuary where I can relax, even more so if I read them close in the presence of a person I care about. I'll go over to Cody's house with a beautiful novel and lean against him with my nose in it, and eventually he'll distract me with food or a movie-musical adaptation, and that's why our relationship is so wonderful.
    BOOKS:
    THEY ARE AMAZING
22. An Absence of Cash~ My favorite part about this whole thing is that, in spite of everything I have in this purse, the one essential item I have lacking is money. The one thing you're definitely supposed to have in a purse. 
23. First Aid Kit~ Cody loves me because I carry around a hand-sewn pouch of essential oils, bandages, allergy relief pills, splints, and antibiotic ointments. He prescribes melaleuca for nearly everything I complain of, and I think the fact that I carry around a bottle of it makes him get all gushy, or something. Kinda like, "we both carry around Band-Aids,-- it's a sign!" 
24. Tape Measure~ This is necessary. Just today I had to measure my hair length, for this very post. The reason I really carry it around, though, is because I spontaneously decide to sew clothing for my friends and must measure them that very minute. And also, I get really annoyed sometimes when I can't figure out the exact length of something. You never know.
25. Dog Clicker~ Can I train myself to be happy? I read something about this and thought that it was eccentric and psychologically fascinating. And in line with my general nature, I decided to run an experiment on myself. I'm still working on it, but if you hear a clicky-clicky sound in the general vicinity of me, it means I'm a little happy. Or watching a cat video on YouTube. 
26. Cucumber~ I needed this, I promise. I was planning to make a sandwich
27. Magic Disappearing Ink~ This is a necessary element to any secret agent tool kit. Suppose I want to write a note reminding myself to buy more strawberry milk but I don't want my mom to comment on how much sugar I'm consistently consuming? Boom. I use this and then write over it with the Red Herring, "multivitamins" or "organic produce"

Not pictured: one sock, a paper bag full of sweet potato tots (very greasy), purple earbuds, a partially inflated balloon containing ten metal nuts, and a handwritten note-to-self that says simply, "tea?" (Lord knows why). Also, my cat, who curled up halfway inside the purse when I turned my back for literally two seconds.

New Year's Resolution

Working myself into shape was not my New Year's resolution this year. In fact, my resolution last year shifted mid-January from "go to the gym at least 4 times a week" into "never make a New Year's resolution ever again". This is for one simple reason: New Year kinda sucks for introverts, in a lot of ways. A pinnacle among them being the rush that occurs directly succeeding December 31st. If you haven't made a resolution for the year but plan to go to the gym during the month of January for any reason, just don't. Walk in circles around your living room if you have to, or go kayaking downhill in the snow, but avoid the gym for a quarter mile radius.

It's a cultural phenomenon that I like to narrate a la National Geographic. It's the prime season for the developing plumage of these lanky mammals, and they flock to the local calisthenics hole for a much needed "leg day". Ah, look, there's one female of the species now. She's roosted upon what looks to be an artifact of Medieval torture. If you listen closely, you can hear her dying inside...

But that usually gets me in trouble.

Okay, look, disregard that; the problem with these resolutions is that everyone tries to pick the same thing. My big issue with this whole New Year thing isn't in the essence of me celebrating with my cat and a party popper at 9pm ("It's 12 o'clock somewhere"), which, by the way, I actually didn't do this year so the joke's on you, Mom. No, this issue begins the following morning. And it has 99% to do with this glorious blessing that is introversion:

Gym resolutions would be so fun if I was the only one who made them! All of you, stop it. It's my thing now. Give up and go home.

Just once I'd like to ask someone what their goal for this year is to hear them say, "Oh, you know, a bowl of ice cream every other morning, the usual" or maybe "Gee, I hadn't really thought about it-- I think I might like to ride an ostrich this year." People could stand to be a whole lot more accepting of the things they genuinely enjoy, and that'd do it. Here's the thing: the shift to New Year isn't going to change you. You could make the choice to eat better, go to the gym, or get more sleep any other day. It's far better to start the year in a way you'll be glad to end it: Loving yourself.

If painting makes you happy, sign up for the class. Maybe you could challenge yourself to random acts of kindness. You could buy yourself some new mechanical pencils and fuzzy socks, or check Facebook less often, or go walk dogs at the local shelter-- while getting in shape may be a great objective, there are so many other experiences worth living. If your goal is to lose 15 pounds, add in a little bonus of "Visit that fresh market I love, once a week." If you love the concept of your goals but hate how you get to them, you'll run out of willpower along with your happiness. You have to love the journey or you'll turn back on the destination. (I know this because my dad always threatens to "turn this car around right now")

And what do I love to do? Well... read. So I custom-built a 52-week challenge, and it's just descriptive but also vague enough for you to do it with me, if you'd like! Then we can all talk about the books we read in one glorious online nerd haven. Basically, here are the specs: One book per week throughout the year. You can cram all you want, or you can read one each week, but you have to read all 52. In addition, while 13 are free-reads, a whopping 39 have prompts. You can take them in any order you like and push in your free book slots whenever you like. You can also, of course, read books outside of the challenge, or customize it for your own use. Or, you can apply multiple prompts to one book you read. (Though if you do that, you're kind of a party pooper, okay?) A lot of these prompts hail from this year's Popsugar reading challenge. I can't let myself completely decide the prompts, because the whole list would sound a bit like, "nonfiction about physics, nonfiction about birds, nonfiction about Vietnamese cooking..." But I digress. Here it is:

As I read along, I'll be updating my list of books read in the following. It'll offer recommended books for specific prompts, mini reviews, links to larger posts, and general asides:

• New York Times Bestseller: Life After Life (by Kate Atkinson). A while back I tried to read this book but only had the stamina to get halfway through-- it's not a good first book after a dry spell, I'll note that. It is, however, the most brilliant anti-war novel ever crafted. I hear y'all in the back screaming Slaughterhouse-Five, but I must politely disagree. I've read both, and here is the difference: Slaughterhouse-Five, while a masterpiece all on its own, merely convinces that war is brutal and irrational. Life After Life hits with force, spiraling through a tapestry of the destiny of one woman, Ursula, amor fati, into the pained realization that we cannot know every story. Friends become strangers. Family becomes the enemy. Time after time, new pathways are revealed, new insights, people who we think will live forever and then live short. Life After Life is unique because it looks to the sky. The whole world as a snake with a tail in its mouth. And it dies, comforted, in the hands of a stranger.
• Finish in a Day: The Crucible (by Arthur Miller). This is one of the three books I brought with me to this year's Winter Camp for my church-- and, due to a surprising amount of sociability, it was the only one I finished. To give warning, it is capable of messing you up psychologically and bringing you awash to your knees in emotion in a mere 143 pages. The very nature of humanity, in all its perilous vengeance, is examined under the light (or, shall we say, darkness) of the Salem witch trials. The deleted act is best read as an epilogue to a very cataclysmic preceding scene; and through it, in the entirety of these acts, you will begin to question what malignant nature resides inside of you, yourself, no matter how pious. The just are not safe, and the wicked are martyrs. Good show, Arthur Miller, good show. 10/10.
• Graphic Novel: Tina's Mouth: An Existential Comic Diary (by Keshni Kashyap). The following is addressed to those of you who think I can find no fault in literature (it is accurate, on most occasions): I had such high hopes for this one. In the very "prologue" of the diary, which is addressed to the existential philosopher Sarte, 'Tina' writes, "I'm not one of those girls who write in diaries about boys and popularity and that sort of thing, in case you were wondering". This happens to be excruciatingly ironic because it is the only thing this book deliberates on, besides some subtle nuances to do with caste systems and appropriation of religion; but its only worthwhile content consists of a few quotes from Camus and Sarte. Sadly, yet another work of fiction that portraits teenagers as hormonal drones incapable of grasping any measure of common sense, let alone meaningful philosophy. I could excuse this if it was well-written or slightly unpredictable whatsoever, like Why We Broke Up, but alas, this book has next to nothing to offer except for a certifiable reason to go out and prove it wrong. Yikes. I feel like I need to wash my mind out with another book.
• Book by a Comedian: Man Up!: Tales of my Delusional Self-Confidence (by Ross Mathews). To be honest, I'll be a bit biased about this one. That's because I am now, certifiably, one of Ross's best friends. In fact, the book's third sentence is a sharp, "So now that we're best friends (oh, by the way, we totally just became best friends)"-- And that's all you need to know in preview for what follows. If you're interested in a spunky, raunchy, cheeky take on everything from pajama pants to lap dogs to butternut squash, this one is for you. It's a great palate-cleanser from a long string of books, and there's never a dull moment (also, Ross is gayer than a rainbow lollipop in the hands of Neil Patrick Harris). Read it and gain a new best friend! It's witty and entertaining all the way through. And while you're at it, do yourself a favor and watch through all the Ross the Intern moments-- you won't be sorry. 
• Random From the Library: Finding Zero (by Amir D. Aczel). Aczel weaves, through poignant spirituality and captivating memoirs, a tapestry of numbers that span not only human experience and the meaning of its incorporeal void, but of an existence that transcends all that we are capable of perceiving. Not only does this striking account brilliantly explain Eastern philosophy and its relation to the origin of sets and infinite nothingness, it captures some of the most fundamental aspects of human psychology and its cognitive abstraction: the longing for beauty, the satisfaction of an endless journey, the quintessential soul of questions without answers, and of course, that pivotal hidden corner of the mind where the concept of Zero merged with the vastness of the Infinite to flourish and grow to fruition. 
• Translated: Why We Broke Up (by Daniel Handler, illustrated by Maira Kalman). This was once a Spanish series, but has since been compiled, translated, and turned into one of my favorite books. It was quite a shocking revelation to me that one of my favorite childhood authors was capable of stealing the limelight in my heart once again-- Daniel Handler, aka, Lemony Snicket. I'm thinking of making up a cheer about this. Something like "Lemony Snicket, he's the ticket" or "Go Handler, he's our man(dler)", but honestly, I'm begging you, just read this book. The illustrations are lovely and the man's a literary genius.
• Required for High School: Uncle Tom's Cabin (by Harriet Beecher Stowe)
• New York Times Bestseller: The Five People You Meet in Heaven (by Mitch Alborn)
• Set in Europe: A God in Ruins (by Kate Atkinson)
• The Mind-Body Problem (by Rebecca Goldstein)
• A Twist in the Tale (by Jeffrey Archer)
• What Alice Forgot (by Liane Moriarty)
• Blue Cover: The Soul of an Octopus (by Sy Montgomery)
• Recommended by a Family Member: The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (by Douglas Adams)
• The Restaurant at the End of the Universe (by Douglas Adams)
• Frida's Bed (by Slavenka Drakulic)
• The Psychopath Test (by Jon Ronson) 
• Just Mercy (by Bryan Stevenson)
• Becoming a Movie this Year: Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children (by Ransom Riggs)
• First Book Seen at a Bookstore: Diary of an Oxygen Thief (Anonymous)
• A Field Guide to Awkward Silences (by Alexandra Petri)
• This Land is Their Land (by Barbara Ehrenreich)

Okay. This is my real resolution, and I implore you to consider it: Love yourself. While you fulfill your goals to get in better shape or advance in your career, be proud of the person you truly are. Take time to grow in your strengths and cherish what you enjoy, and spend time with those you love, because the year will go by fast-- and you won't want to waste a single moment by being anyone other than the amazing you. Trust me on this one. This year is full of possibilities set out just for you.

The Unstable Quadrants of INFP Agression

I read on one MBTI website that INFPs are either non-confrontational or moody and extremely explosive. I'm not sure I quite agree. Not that the website was bad! It was great. I love the posts, you're awesome, bless you, I appreciate your contributions, make no amends; I don't mean to insult. Well, see, INFPs as I observe them have several levels of anger, which I like to separate into quadrants:

So, as you can see, these four quadrants are derives from a combination of two variable statuses: subtle vs dramatic, and anger vs annoyance. These are the traits of, respectively, "expression" and "emotion". Of course, there are many other categories and contributing factors, but this table represents INFP confrontational styles at their simplest. Allow me to expand upon the characteristics of each of these various factions:

The Care and Keeping of Popular Culture

It's no secret that I practically stalk the mailbox like a mighty lioness lurking on the suburban savanna each mid-month until the fated issue of Popular Science arrives. After which, I seclude myself in my room for hours, because it seems that I invariably become frustrated that no one shares my ideals of proper magazine etiquette. It's really not their fault. I'm extremely and annoyingly picky.

My suggestion is this: if you're going to read any glossy-covered publication, pick something you genuinely enjoy so you won't be tempted to do something awful to it like marking up the articles to circle things for your wish list.

Or better yet, just make sure I'm not around to have a psychological breakdown over the state of your reading materials. (Actually, you can buy a BB-8. I think Cody deserves one for putting up with me all the time, though he protests that I'm not mean as I depict myself to be. Psshhh.)

There are many magazines that you'll want to avoid and others you'll more want to pursue. I've created this curative guide to some of my favorites: The Week, Sky & Telescope, Popular Mechanics, American Cinematographer, Car and Driver, The Atlantic, Bird Watching, SciFiNow, Book Page, etc. In the end, it's just important to pick based on articles rather than cover, and what you find to be interesting rather than what's on the popular rack. Popular Science is actually the only magazine I ever get through, on occasion at that, but it's nice to have a favorite that's your go-to in waiting rooms. Sometimes you don't have enough time to read a whole novel or non-fiction, and it's best then to just immerse yourself in an article or two for your free time. Whatever the case, it's great to stumble across gems such as "Inside the Mission to Pluto". 

That's the great thing about magazines: There's something for the interests of everyone. But there's something, a darker side, that I'd like to discuss. In the light of humor, of course, if I may. There are many publications out there that have extreme tendencies to inspire identity crises or influence a person against their true interests into something I like to call, "The Celebrity Black Hole", from which in time no thought escapes. It's not wrong to enjoy popular culture in music, TV shows, movies, literature, you name it-- Of course! It'd be hypocritical of me to say no when I was practically drooling over the trailer to the new Star Wars. However, I would much rather study what inspires and interests me than keep up with the Kardashians. This isn't because they're bad people, it's just because I'd rather know what's going on in Paris than, say, the lives of the Duggars.

With that in mind, here are some

New Taglines for Popular Magazines

Although it's definitely not my area of interest, I recognize that it can be enjoyable to cozy up to a gossip column every now and then. However, these types of magazines can be detrimental in a number of ways.

When I was in sixth grade, our drama group used the library as a green room during productions. Since we were anxiously awaiting our cues from the baby monitor positioned at the central table, we couldn't get too immersed in any particular book or conversation. It was for this reason that I picked up one of those gauzy teen gossip magazines sitting in the rack directly beside me.

For an eleven-year old girl with a bizarre mix of social anxiety and attention craving, this magazine couldn't have come at a better time. Or, if you're not in the marketing of such a company, you'd say it couldn't have come at a worse time. Within these articles you're slammed with a high-pressure string of contradictory advice and ideals. Some tell you that you have to be self-confident to be liked, others tell you you're nothing compared to the celebrities. Articles simultaneously convince you to enjoy gossip but never spread it, to be this cultural ideal of "sexy" that is impossible let alone disgusting to perpetuate onto preteens, to be pure but to know exactly how to give a killer make out session in the school locker-room. These magazines can only seem to agree on one thing: It all comes down to who others say you are. Apparently all that matters is if you buy the "in" clothes, date a popular guy, hang out with the cool kids, stay in the know; and no one seems to care about the real you.

Self-consciousness, sensitivity, and insecurity of identity were already prevalent in my sixth grade psyche, and these magazines were like a shot of steroids to those ugly manifests of my stumbling years between child and adult (which I'm still a part of, but thankfully the only issue now seems to be not finding any footie pajamas in my size). Tween magazines, on the whole, promote the idea that your body makes up who you are and "more importantly" how others perceive you. Sheesh. Isn't it great to tell little girls that right about the time they slam into an awkward growth spurt or start to develop pimples?  Additionally, masses of studies have shown that magazines, more than any other form of media, are directly related to the development of eating disorders.

I suppose that makes me a statistic, doesn't it? This is the part of the story where I confess that I struggled with anorexia and messed up my metabolism in a way that still impacts me today. I developed ulcers, too, because I ate so little that my stomach acid burnt through its lining. No, the influence of magazines definitely wasn't my whole reason. I was also seeking to stable my topsy-turvy life with the only thing I thought I could control: my body. Where did I get the tips that told me I could eat ice cubes to fool my body into curbing the pangs of hunger? The same media that told me I wasn't good enough until I was perfect on the outside. 

70 percent of normal weight girls in the US consider themselves to be overweight. 35 percent of American girls between the ages of 6 and 12 have been on at least one diet. 

Hollywood celebrities are presented infallibly as role models. Information on beauty maintenance is far more prevalent than that of health. There are titles of articles that couldn't not send up at least some minuscule red flag: "You Specifically, Yes You, The Girl Reading This Magazine. You Aren't Attractive." Such messages are plastered all over modern media, aimed directly at teenage girls (though teenage guys aren't exempt from the cultural scrutiny, either); but nowhere are they as prevalent as the magazines preying upon young children or teenagers with low self-esteem. If I have to read one more "21 Ways to Make His Thighs go up in Flames" targeted towards my age group, I'm going to flip a table.

Why? Because these magazines feed you information that guys only want perfect smoking hot virgin sacrifices (that sounds suspiciously like some cult, actually), but at the same time, they supply tips for kissing in hallways and having physical relationships that your parents don't find out about. I may be a prude, but hear me out. Even if you don't agree with abstinence, it's indisputable that these mixed messages and constant streams of such "sex tips" send one very strong message: Guys like girls who are sex objects. Picture yourself as fourteen again. Picture your parents picturing you as fourteen. Or whatever else works. And then picture yourself being perpetually bombarded with this message that you only exist to attract and pleasure the opposite gender. 

It's wrong. It's just plain horrifyingly wrong.

Let me send a message to the pretween and teenage girls out there: You don't exist to be arm candy. You are unique and beautiful, talented and inspired and don't you dare let anyone tell you that you are anything less than that. You have goals and purpose, a personality that's all your own, and meaning beyond what society confines you to. You're a princess. A FREAKING PRINCESS. Oh, and guys, don't think I'm letting you slink away. Culture also tells you some pretty fantastic lies. You don't have to be muscular or hyper-masculine. You can be afraid or sensitive, enjoy "feminine" things, need to lean on others-- it's not a girl thing, it's a human thing. Don't let anyone tell you that you don't deserve to be cherished for who you are, too. You're a gOSHDARN PRINCE. 

YOU'RE ALL ROYALTY. OR DRAGONS. BE A DRAGON.

This article is titled "The Care and Keeping of Popular Culture", but it should really be the care and keeping of you. It's so easy to get wrapped up in appearances when we become entrapped in the warped perspective of our society. It's far too great a burden to believe that you're not worth anything unless you look, talk, or act a certain way. When it comes to real people, it isn't a matter of getting their thighs burning (wouldn't that be horrifically uncomfortable??)  If you want to get someone's heart burning, just be yourself. The right person will be the one who appreciates you in the entirety of who you are. 

And who you are, well.... That's just absolutely incredible.

Meet the Author

Who are you?

It's a daunting question, isn't it? In a world of 7,380,436,559 individuals, exponentially increasing, it's next to impossible to feel unique or even, sometimes, valuable for who you are. That which comprises the self is abstract and volatile, and you may try to pin it like a butterfly to a cork board only to find that the wings melt through and away You fly. How inexplicably agitating it is to know the self by uncertain terms!

I could offer up any organized scheme of objective details about myself-- INFP-T, Choleric-Sanguine, Chaotic Good, Right-brained, Neurotic, Ravenclaw, Amity, Leo (more like Cancer/Pisces), IQ 174, Love Language: Quality Time/Gifts, WPI-62, APS: Feminine-- the list of measurable traits goes on to the brink of infinity, and still, none can truly grasp that indiscernible me. I find that soulful intimacy comes breath by breath, in little flickers at a time. People can be more understood by their experiences and thoughts than by any standard test, however comprehensive.

So many times I've seen people confine themselves to the restrictive limits of their Myers-Briggs type. I should come as no surprise that I did too, for a time. These tests only highlight trends, they are not meant to conform the soul of a sui generis individual.

I may be your mostly friendly INFP, but there are other things you could know about me that would mean far more than my result on a test (even the revered Myers-Briggs). So, rather than explaining various facets of my personality in attempts to describe enough for you to "know" me, I'm going to skim over some of my quirks. It'll be fun! My main reasoning is this: Our actions much more define us than our categorized perceptions of the self, however eerily accurate they may be.

1. I start every morning with kundalini yoga and love to go on little walks (especially during damp weather, particularly involving the acquisition of chai tea at the local bakery). The feel of cold, crisp fall air is the sweetest in my lungs. I often forget or forsake breakfast, unless said breakfast involves raspberries, crepes, or strawberry milk.
2. Back in seventh grade or so, I began to pride myself, rather obnoxiously, on not liking Twilight because of the sparkly vampires and blatant lack of plot. Unfortunately, this whole hipster image was shattered when I discovered the web-series Carmilla and distressed my whole family with such obsession over it. As it turns out, my aversion to Twilight is because of the blatant lack of character development, inaccuracy to lore, and the horrendous writing style that is wholly reminiscent of a sixth-grade fanfiction. I say I hate romance in all forms but still read things like Fruits Basket and A Little Something Different.
3. My bucket list includes riding an ostrich.
4. Thai food makes me horribly nauseous, but I eat it anyways. This probably says a big something about my appetite, as do these two other things-- I've seriously considered a career in Culinary Arts, particularly as a pastry chef (but am now pursing Naturopathy) AND about once every few weeks I get a new craving and fixate on it until it's fulfilled. One particular recurrent craving has earned me the infamous title "Cinnamon Roll Princess". Also, I get hangry a lot; poor Cody.
5. I usually leave parties early and either fall asleep or get sick every time I go over to a friend's house. My best friends tend to be those with whom I feel no social pressure-- the casual, quiet hangout is my ideal. Still, I love theme dances and elegant dinner galas. Usually my social usefulness is as the "constantly in the kitchen hostess"; food, decorations, tending the bonfire, and hiding out in the room with the pets. 

And, as they say, a picture is worth a thousand words.

Some Common Catchphrases and Also Kind of an Apology

Oh my gosh, you guys.
So, my last post was in May-- forget that "post once a day" crap.
Well, sorry about that. Can I make it up to y'all with an open question inbox?
On my obnoxious Tumblr account I've got a list of questions that are open for submission; aka "all about the INFP at your request". If you'd like to send a request for any, email me at jrd.ahg@gmail.com :D

• 1) if you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?
• 2) grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17.
• 3) what do you think about most?
• 4) what does your latest text message from someone else say?
• 5) what's your strangest talent?
• 6) girls.... (finish the sentence); boys.... (finish the sentence)
• 7) ever had a poem or song written about you?
• 8) when is the last time you played the air guitar?
• 9) do you have any strange phobias?
• 10) ever stuck a foreign object up your nose?
• 11) what's your religion
• 13) if you are outside, what are you most likely doing?
• 14) do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?
• 15) simple but extremely complex. favorite band?
• 16) what was the last lie you told?
• 17) do you believe in karma?
• 18) what does your url mean?
• 19) what is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength?
• 20) who is your celebrity crush?
• 21) how do you vent your anger?
• 22) how do you flirt?
• 23) do you have a collection of anything?
• 24) do you prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online?
• 25) are you happy with the person you've become?
• 26) what's a sound you hate; sound you love?
• 27) what's your biggest "what if"?
• 28) do you believe in ghosts? how about aliens?
• 29) stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? do the same with your left arm.
• 30) smell the air. what do you smell?
• 31) what's the worst place you have ever been to?
• 32) choose east coast or west coast?
• 33) most attractive singer of your opposite gender?
• 34) to you, what is the meaning of life?
• 35) define art.
• 36) do you believe in luck?
• 37) what's the weather like right now?
• 38) what time is it?
• 39) what was the last book you read?
• 40) do you like the smell of gasoline?
• 41) do you have any nicknames?
• 42) what was the last movie you saw?
• 43) what's the worst injury you've ever had?
• 45) have you ever caught a butterfly?
• 46) do you have any obsessions right now?
• 47) ever had a rumor spread about you?
• 48) do you believe in magic?
• 49) do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong?
• 50) what is your astrological sign? does it mean anything to you?
• 51) do you save money or spend it?
• 52) what's the last thing you purchased?
• 53) in love?
• 54) in a relationship?
• 55) how many relationships have you had?
• 56) can you touch your nose with your tongue?
• 57) where were you yesterday?
• 58) is there anything pink within 10 feet of you?
• 59) are you wearing socks right now?
• 60) what's your favorite animal?
• 61) what is your secret weapon to get someone to like you?
• 62) where is your best friend?
• 63) what is your heritage?
• 64) what were you doing last night at 12 am?
• 65) what do you think is satan's last name?
• 66) are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend?
• 67) you are walking down the street on your way to work. there is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. what do you do?
• 68) you are at the doctor's office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) what do you do with your remaining days? c) would you be afraid?
• 69) you can only have one of these things; trust or love.
• 70) what's a song that always makes you happy when you hear it?
• 71) what are the last four digits in your cell phone number?
• 72) in your opinion, what makes a great relationship?
• 73) how can i win your heart?
• 74) can insanity bring on more creativity?
• 75) what is the single best decision you have made in your life so far?
• 80) what size shoes do you wear?
• 81) what would you want to be written on your tombstone?
• 82) what is your favorite word?
• 83) give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word; heart.
• 84) what is a saying you say a lot?
• 85) what's the last song you listened to?
• 86) basic question; what's your favorite color/colors?
• 87) what is your current desktop picture?
• 88) if you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be?
• 89) what would be a question you'd be afraid to tell the truth on?
• 90) one night you wake up because you heard a noise. you turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by mummies. the mummies aren't really doing anything, they're just standing around your bed. what do you do?
• 91) you accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. they were good, and what's even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! what is that power?
• 92) you can re-live any point of time in your life. the time-span can only be a half-hour, though. what half-hour of your past would you like to experience again?
• 93) you can erase any horrible experience from your past. what will it be?
• 94) you just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. you have to depart right now. where are you gonna go?
• 95) do you have any relatives in jail?
• 97) have you ever thrown up in the car?
• 98) ever been on a plane?
• 99) if the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say?

Yes, I do recognize that some were missing. It's a test. *obvious winking*
On my Tumblr, I've already got a request from my favorite mutual--

Hi Cody(:

Some undepicted but also important catchphrases:

• Hello, Sweetie.
• Well, aren't you a fun little lollipop triple dipped in psycho
• NO WAIT COME BACK I LOVE YOU
• did you just-
• Are you an angel? 'Cus i won't blink....
• rude.
• Was it das??!
• Get in loser, we're going shopping
• right in the feels!
• THIS SHIP WILL NOT SINK

That about sums it up(:
If you'd like to see some more little quibbles or possibly a bunny trail story, email me a number! I'll respond to all of 'em.


xoxo, Your Mostly Friendly INFP