| ENFP - "Journalist". Uncanny sense of the motivations of others. Life is an exciting drama. 8.1% of total population. |
It said:
Extroverted (E) 69.23% Introverted (I) 30.77%
Intuitive (N) 70.27% Sensing (S) 29.73%
Feeling (F) 52.78% Thinking (T) 47.22%
Perceiving (P) 84.38% Judging (J) 15.63%
So apparently I'm pretty even on the feeling/thinking front.
Also, this proves that Kelly was right, which makes sense, seeing as she's been trained in this since, um, birth. (which makes it really awkward when you think about the fact that her parent's mis-typed her for a long time, what with it being their profession and all. Sort of a tragic misunderstanding of there daughter. I think she figured out her actual type when she was, like, ten.)
Anyway: The ratios on the feeling thinking make it make more sense to me now.
Yarg. I slept through most of the day, to compensate I suppose for not sleeping at night. That was one of the most debaucherous nights I've had here, I think. Also, debaucherous should be a real word.
You know, I thought that making out with somebody was one of those things I wanted that wouldn't actually help me at all, but I actually feel a lot better now. Huh.
It's interesting knowing that you're reading this, Kailyn. I kind of enjoyed the total anonymity I felt before, but there is something about knowing that somebody does read and care about all these words that makes them a bit more satisfying too. Also, I have the sort of brain that is good at la-la-la-ing it's way along in the face of unexpected attention. Which is to say, I suppose, that I am good at ignoring it.
Still. Last night was interesting. It went through such different sequences. First the melancholy sort of aimless drifting after house managing, then the fun of the one-acts, and then Yoshi had his talk with me. It wasn't anything I hadn't already figured out for myself, but something about hearing him say that he was no longer in love with me made it real in a way that it hadn't been before. "In terms of the emotional distance between us, I find it annoying to be around you right now because you're my ex-girlfriend, and that's just going to take time. I'm usually fine, but it's when you latch onto my flaws that I have to leave the room. I do think you're a wonderful person though, and would like to close friends with you again eventually."
You think I'm a wonderful person. How nice. Ass. I don't know. Something about that particular phrase is just... ugh. Like when people ask if a girl is pretty and someone says "Well, she got a great personality."
It was hard I guess, because it made real for me the fact that I don't really matter. I don't think that he's not in love with me anymore, so much as he never was. It makes me feel a bit used and discarded, though I know it wasn't really like that or that it was never his intention at least.
What was interesting was how I dealt with it. I mean, Matt was with me for a bit, but I pretty much had to deal with this one on my own. I found myself in this tiny nowhere-room in Titsworth with some mats, a broken piano, and a mirror. I'd never been there before, I didn't even know it existed. I doubt that most people do.
It was such an awful feeling. I was alone, so I got to release myself to those all-consuming, body-shaking sort of tears. I used to do that in front of other people more, but I don't like to as much now. Maybe it's part of the whole "growing up" thing. I don't know. As much as I wear my heart on my sleeve, I rarely have allowed people here to see COMPLETE breakdown.
That's what I did though. I broke down every bit of myself and what had happened to me, examined all the parts, cleaned some, threw some out, and put it all back together. I got into this funny space where I was able to see the girl in the mirror as someone standing in front of me rather than a reflection of myself. I looked at her, saw her in the midst of my own overwhelming tumult of emotion, and saw potential. This would make me a better actor, artist, writer, storyteller. So I took my tears and started doing lines from the end of Lear. I was suddenly in control of a great storm, the words flowed out of me like power, like that certain breed of truth the feels like magic. It was probably one of the best performances of my life. By the end, I had finally stopped crying. The storm had subsided, and I felt strong, centered. I sat there with myself a while longer, singing until I felt fully transformed, and then I left the little room and sought the rest of my evening.
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