If You Belonged Here

Cinderella Story

Okay, people, this kokology (p. 70) is patterned after my own heart. Let's hear what you've got to say.

The rags-to-riches story of a girl whose dreams come true, Cinderella is one of the classic fairy tales in world literature. Of all the memorable scenes in the tale, which stands out in your mind?

1. Cinderella suffering at the hands of her wicked stepmother.
2. Cinderella being transformed into a beautiful princess by her fairy godmother.
3. Cinderella losing her slipper on the steps to the palace as the clock strikes midnight.
4. The scene where the prince finally finds her and fits the glass slipper on her foot.

I choose number two the transformation scene. Maybe it's just the Bibbity-Bobbity-Boo song, or maybe it's that I really like fancy ball gowns. But the truth of the matter is that I've always wanted to be a fairy godmother or a good witch like Glenda in the Wizard of Oz. They seem to have all the fun and there's a lot less fuss and bother.

As always, I will post the answer here when enough people have played.

A Perfect(-ish) Match

I think INTPs are just INTJs who postpone decisions so they can gather more information, and more information, and a little more information.

Mr. Poppins is an INTP. The only sticking point in our relationship, and it's actually pretty minor, is precise communication. I'll grab whatever word happens to be handy when I'm trying to get to the point (floor instead of ground, car instead of truck, dog instead of lion) and this can really derail a conversation. We either have to stop and sort the word out or Mr. Poppins corrects me, which is annoying because if he knew what I was talking about and he was the only person I was talking to, then there was no reason to interrupt me to make a correction.

Also, for a long time if Mr. Poppins said we should go to, say, Tokyo, and I agreed, I started making calls to book air travel. By the time I came back to him with a choice of hotels, he'd forgotten the conversation. Now I ask: are we actually going to Tokyo? This saves some disappointment on my end but can throw a wet blanket on his fun because I have no interest in having a conversation about visiting Tokyo unless I'm going there.

On the other hand, Mr. Poppins stays much calmer than I do and seems to have more patience for interruptions. And, if I want to know the merits of one consumer product over another, I can get him to research it. After a few days, I check in to see where he's at. By then he'll have narrowed the field down to three almost perfect choices and I can jump in and make the final decision.

I was just looking at a site that claimed "INTPs make ideal companions to INTJs, as neither of them notices they're in a relationship." This same site also claims that "INTJs don't have relationships! They may, however build their own friends." I have never built my own friend but that is perhaps only because it didn't occur to me as an option.

Mr. Poppins and I do notice that we're in a relationship. We just don't do it the same way a lot of other people do. For one thing, we don't get into heated arguments, raise our voices, or throw things. We talk things out, if it is necessary, but most of the time we are so like-minded that it isn't necessary. We enjoy each other's company and we value each other's ideas.

We also engage in behavior together that we don't engage in with anyone else. And, no, people, I'm not talking about sex, although we don't engage in that with anyone else either. I am sure that many people would never believe this but Mr. Poppins and I have been known to be a little silly. I sometimes surprise him with a little Tune in Tokyo just to keep him on his toes. He occasionally does impressions of the kids from South Park. I give him one-legged hugs, which are hard to explain, but definitely not something I would do in public. He gooses me when I'm climbing up stairs in front of him. We have our ways.

Not that it's all giddy revelry. We do these things and then immediately snap back to our normal ascetic selves.

But we also have long talks about grown up things, such as world politics and religion, and not so important things like why if a gander would never be called a goose, are drakes usually referred to as ducks?

Mr. Poppins also takes an interest in personality type and nuns and alien abduction because they are important to me. Because it is important to him, I listen to the major and minor details about the reason the latest computery something-ma-bob is only marginally compatible with the other computery-thingy-ma-geeb (which, is why we are waiting for the next generation whatever-da-heck before we make a purchase).

Mr. Poppins is not personally all that interested in personality type or nuns, although alien abduction is another story, but he does a fair job of humoring me. And, likewise, I do a fair job of humoring him when he gives me a three-product spec-sheet comparison and omits the only detail I personally care about: does it come in pink?

But, for a couple of introverts, we never run out of things to talk about. Nor are we uncomfortable with a little companionable silence.

Ours is a match made in geek heaven.

The Eleven Dollar and Ninety-Five Cent Question

Mr. Poppins, bless his beating heart, asked me a question the other night. Honestly, I cannot believe he had to ask. I mean him, who shares my bed and sees the books on my nightstand daily, him of all people. I was almost speechless. I said almost, people.

Mr. Poppins asked me if I really needed to read any more books on personality type.

I shudder a little just typing that last sentence. I thought he knew me. Clearly I was deluding myself. But Mr. Poppins did not understand why that was a strange question. He explained that he assumed I must be an expert, know absolutely everything there is to know, have not one iota of knowledge left to acquire regarding personality type.

I appreciate the compliment, mais non.

I am only beginning to scratch the surface of what I want to know about personality type. I am still learning the basics. Only when I can make my own conjectures, establish my own theories, and generally achieve supreme typeliness (I had to make that word up), will I be able to rest. Because right now people, I am still learning to understand how to correctly identify type in others.

You might want to sit down for this next sentence, people:

I make mistakes.

You might gasp, shake your head in disbelief, cry out a resounding No! to the universe. Go ahead, I'll wait.

Can I tell you a secret? I mistyped Bookgirl. My longtime best friend, constant vacation companion, the woman whose pajamas I threw up on. I screwed the pooch when it came to identifying her core personality. Bookgirl would claim that it is because she is so unique as to be untypable but I do not believe such people exist. It is akin to believing there are people walking around without hearts, or lungs, or pedicures. It cannot be true. And so I persevere.

The truth is that Bookgirl and I have both had a hard time typing her from the beginning. I will admit she is a complicated creature, full of mystery and excitement, containing unexplored levels of depth, always changing and acquiring new facets. I mean if Bookgirl can't pin down her type, then who can? Granted, she claims I know her better than she knows herself, but I beg to differ. Bookgirl keeps secrets. Some would call it having a rich inner life but I call secrets, Hank bless it.

Bookgirl is loyal, she never forgets a birthday, she always shows up for a party, she seldom complains about anything. She insisted she was an S type. Insisted. I was too green to know better. Mostly, I was too green to make a clear explanation of the difference between N and S types. N type is hard to describe. But Bookgirl loves life, loves new experiences, loves everything. She must be an S.

Nope.

Bookgirl took the test again. I have to say that while I appreciate that test, it is easy to do, and it has the advantage of being free, that test is really not so great. The questions are often vague and confusing. I guess you get what you pay for. And you don't get what you don't pay for.

But I have been reading a new type book, one I will review later, and there was a description that struck me as being particularly Bookgirl. Did I mention that she took the test again? Right. She humors me. Anyway she came out eXfp. She was sure about everything but whether she was sensing or intuitive. So, she must fall either into the Idealist (NF) or the Artisan (SP) subgroup. Definitely not a Guardian (SJ) as was previously suspected.

Well, the new book cleared things up by describing Artisan (SP) and Idealist (NF) temperaments in children. Bookgirl agrees, there can no longer be any doubt about her type.

Bookgirl is absolutely an NF type.

No child has a more vivid imagination than the little darling who grew up to be Bookgirl. Not even J.K. Rowling.

If this is all so clear now, how could the confusion ever come to be, you might ask. And thank you for asking, because I have a theory:

Bookgirl thinks circles around most people and she does it all while snapping her fingers, playing hopscotch, and chewing bubble gum. Not really, but you get the point.

Bookgirl has a decidedly Splash Mountain feel to her despite being as deep as the Mariana Trench. When I am with Bookgirl, I am often so busy having fun that I often don't remember how serious and sensitive she can be.

Don't get me wrong, I know better, people.

I am only occasionally given access to Bookgirl's most personal, treasured thoughts and, let me tell you, they are intriguing and delightful, but I am quite often entertained by her bubbly displays generosity and hedonistic gusto. Bookgirl knows how to have a good time. You may remember my previous mention of her exceptional margarita skills.

Imagine if I had not read that last book and gone blithely through life thinking of Bookgirl as an ESFJ. I don't know how I would have lived myself.

The answer is Yes, Mr. Poppins. Decidedly yes.