If You Belonged Here

Do Step in Time

Once upon a time, twice in the same week as a matter of fact, I was told by little people--small children, not elves--that I look like Mary Poppins. I should mention that I did not know either of these children. This is how the second of the conversations went:

Very Serious Little Boy: "You look like Mary Poppins."
Me: "You know, you're the second person to tell me that this week."
VSLB: "Do step in time."
Me: "What?"
VSLB: "Do Step in Time."
Me: "I don't want to do Step in Time. You do Step in Time."
VSLB: "Okay."
VSLB then proceeds to jump into the routine, taking it all very seriously (I suspect a budding INTJ) as he hunches over peddling feet and swings his little arms in wide, ground sweeping arcs.
VSLB: "Step in Time. Step in Time." Big Finish. "Now you do it."
Me: "No."

Ever after that day, "Do Step in Time" has followed "You're making me bored" to form a completely INTJ combination of accusation and directive to my friends. INTJ's are observers. In order to have detached interest there has to be something or someone to have a detached interest in: someone has to do Step in Time or I will be bored.

Most of the time I can go through life perfectly happy to live in my own head, occupying myself with cross-analyzing the six most recent books I have read on nuns (or body image, or Cinderella folklore, or grammar, or personality type) but every so often I am between these intellectual pursuits, waiting for the next random obsession to hijack my brain.

These down times are when friends capable of dazzling impromptu performances of Step in Time come in handy. Not that I actually expect anyone to break out into song and dance--although that would would be nice. Step in Time is just a metaphor, which brings me to my point.

Do Step in Time, people.

Seriously. You have my undivided attention for the next fifteen seconds.

Starting five seconds ago.

PP

p.s. Time's up.

Self-Help Wonderland

I love self-help books. I have shelves of them, and that's just the books I can't part with. The books that I'm embarassed to be seen owning or that were ousted by a more profound source, get donated to the local library. If I weren't so convinced that I need the tax write off, I'd dump them and run. But since I insist on a receipt, they know who I am. I think they clear the library of children when they see me approaching.

I have read books on everything from who I am to who you are to what we should eat, breath, and do. I have tamed my gremlin, maximized my body potential, and learned the 100 things every person should know. I have no less than six etiquette books (and not one of them teaches empathy), but I have books on how to say it, thank you, and sympathy so I feel confident that I can fake it.

Not only do I know how to win friends and influence people, I also know when I have loved too much and really must cut those same people loose. I have guides on how not to sweat the small stuff at home, at work, or in love. I also have an owner's manual, guide to bibliotherapy, and a book on self-hypnosis. If I can be reprogrammed without shock therapy, I should be able to manage it at home.

It is the INTJ way to strive for improvement. Self-improvement. We've pretty much given up hope of improving anybody or anything else because one or more of our self-help books told us it was useless. I'm pretty sure those books also said it was annoying and rude but, let's face it, those aren't the kind of accusations that mean much to an INTJ. Useless was definitely the clincher.

Anyway, from time to time, I'll read a new book or revisit an old book, and for the fun of it, and to stretch out my topics, I plan to write reviews. Kind of like the creature of the week episodes on the X-files. I'll also review books that I particularly like. This is just a warning, not a canvass for opinions.

So there you go. You are warned.

PP

Instant Gratification Takes Too Long

My mother once told me to pray for patience.

No way. First of all, patience comes with practice. I practice not getting what I want, when I want, how I want. Why would I pray for patience? Sounds like a crappy prayer to have answered. Even worse, it would probably take a long time. What I want is for things to go my way immediately. If I pray, that is what I pray for: my way, yesterday.

It's hard not to get behind myself on this particular lack of virtue. At least I've been told that patience is a virtue. Of which I have none. But is it really? And if it is, is virtue something worth having in this case?

Obsession is a virtue. Obsession pushes forward, insists on completion, strives for perfection. If necessity is the mother of invention, then obsession is the father. Patience is more like the drunken uncle who is always asking necessity and obsession to loan him a few bucks until payday. But no one ever tells you to pray for obsession. Nope. Too kinetic.

My lack of patience and abundance of obsession, often has me in knots. If the INTJ cannot rest until everything is wrapped up, decided, and determined, then like all of my people, I find myself often restless. Sometimes, when I have truly exhausted my options for what I can do and there is nothing left besides waiting, with or without patience, I resolve that the very worst will happen and decide what I will do about that. It is not patience and it does not always get me to sleep at night but at least it allows me to rest enough to stop pacing.

Relax, my professors told me in college. Relax? I asked, But then who would I be?

So much of my identity is tied into the way I don't relax. I joke that I am nothing without my obsessions. But it's not really a joke. Because if I live eighty percent or more of my life in my own head, it seems like a good idea to have some thoughts to keep me busy.

Maybe I should live more of my life in the real world?

Maybe. But not until someone cleans the real world up or let's me be in charge.

It's a mess out there.

PP