Posted on by crystal · 18 Comments

All cluttered up

My thoughts tend to run around in my head, really really fast. Sometimes I can barely keep track of them, but somehow, I do. When I’m sober. I actually make a very annoying drunk, coz I just go on and on and on rambling out my random thoughts at 73 words per second. It bugs me no end, and is the main reason I don’t drink.

One time I did get drunk, and rambled on and on and on … and saw some multi-coloured beer bottles doing a cabaret dance [fun!] and threw a tantrum and saw some stranger squeeze my knee while my date squeezed someone else … wah … I don’t want to do that again!! The dancing bottles were fun though … But I digress.

I like things like chat and twitter. They allow me to jot down a few of the random thoughts as the sprint by, leaving space for the less random ones to actually get some work done.

So on days like today, when I decide that I have too much work, and I consequently put off my chat clients and tweets, well, I end up being rather confused and not getting very much done. I also end up thinking a lot … well okay, a lot more than usual. So today, I was thinking … but that’s another story.

See why I need my twitter?

Anyway. I had a point. I’ve been listening to American Hi-Fi. They have this really old song called ‘Flavour of the Week’. It’s about this girl who’s living with a boy who really doesn’t like her. The lyrics explain how she’s painting her nails while he’s chatting up her best friend, or how she’s dressed to kill and he doesn’t notice coz he’s zoned out on TV, or how he has posters of all the girls he wishes she was dating … it would actually be a rather depressing song if it wasn’t for the killer drums and guitars.

I always liked this song for some reason. Now I like it more than ever because I’ve been that girl. I was with someone who constantly wished I was someone else, and by the end of it, I didn’t like myself very much.

Listening to this song today, I realised what a lot of people told me all along, including him. He would actually dare me to leave him, saying if I thought I deserved better, I should go look for it. That’s when he was high. Other times it was more of a plea than a dare. I think he actually wanted me to leave him.

The thing is I really can do better. Sometimes you stay with someone because you think you don’t deserve better. And no matter how many times people say you do, you can’t really believe it.

There are sooooo many songs about some person seeing a super girl/boy being mistreated by their S/O and saying ‘Oh let me treat you better, dump the idiot.’ They range from Jesse Mcartney’s ‘leaving’ to that pretty Latino boy’s ‘gallery’. I had lots of guys tell me I deserved better, but I didn’t want to listen. I figured it was just boys trying to slice.

For some reason, listening to that song today it came alive for me. I can do better, and I will. Never ever ever ever EVER peg your esteem on someone else. He may think you’re unpretty, she may think you’re a dork, but there are a million [well at least 5 anyway] other people out there who think you’re amazing, and one of them should be you!!

I’m not saying we should ignore all criticism, we all have our faults, and we should work to overcome them. We all have haters, and even likers who don’t enjoy all our traits. Even the sweetest person in the world has someone who detests them for being too nice – and his name rhymes with mouse. **grin**

But don’t waste your time being around someone who doesn’t like you. Go out, learn to like yourself, and you’d be surprised how many people out there think you’re the flavour of the week.

I’m really glad I finally found that out.

PS: Anna Nalick, In the rough. Yay!! I had no idea I had that in here!!

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Posted on by crystal · 124 Comments

Aaaaaaw

Disclaimer : This is a very girly post, so the boy[ish] among you might want to skip it.

But it’s just so cool !! This is what I want to find in my life. This, for me, is true love. This is what I call romantic. This is it!

Yes, all the links go to the same place, that’s how much I like it 🙂 Nobody ever follows links, and I should probably have just copy-pasted the thing here. But I figure the woman has her own blog, so why drag it here? Plus, if I link it this many times, you’re bound to click on at least one, yeah?

I watched a scene in ER once where an old wife was dying. They were both so old and frail, wobbling when they stood. The woman’s face looked like crumpled tissue, all delicate and transparent, like the light was shining right through, ready to disintegrate. I kept thinking of those vampire and mummy movies where the sun comes out and the creature just poofs into wispy whiffs of dust.

I remember thinking, I don’t ever want to look like that. I want to die young and vibrant and bouncy, with the gummiberry juice of life still zooming through me. I know that makes me shallow and vain. Umia **wink**

Back to ER, in that scene, her husband was telling the Doc “You should have seen her when she was younger, she was beautiful.” He describes her hair and her blush and her smile with such passion and … nostalgia? I thought his voice held regret, I thought he was sorry to see her the way that she was. I thought he was longing for the pretty girl of his youth, and that he was sorry to be left with this … thing that she had become.

In that moment I swore I’d never [re?]marry. I was like I don’t want some man, 20 years later, to look at me and wish he could go back in time. I don’t want to look into the eyes of the man I love and to see them looking back at me, wondering how he had got himself into this, wondering how he ended up with this.

I know most men do, eventually, hence the ndogo ndogo, the mid-life bimbo, and the post-college divorce when the kids grow up and leave home. Hence also the cougar and the stella-getting-groove-back. I don’t want that. I’d rather end up alone and happy. Or die with ageless beauty. Just like Cleopatra.

But if this is what it means to be together, to age in love, to be … well to just be … if I can find this, I’ll be happy. This I want.

In case you still didn’t get it, click —–> here.

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Posted on by crystal · 17 Comments

Tonight I couldn't sleep so…

…now I know what insomnia is like **grin**

So it’s no secret that I’m mad about psychology, and that I love my MBTI. I’m always trying to get people to do the test. I know of two INFJs, but for some reason, I just don’t like them. I’ve no idea why. I so wanted to find out, so I went in search of blogs. Found out a lot of interesting stuff, good, bad, happy, sad.

I liked this:

I’m 31 and have recently discovered that I am an INFJ. Oh my God-today I feel like I’ve had a breakthrough! I’m not NUTS! LOL!

I am the stereotypical INFJ. I’m an artist, have been since birth practically, I draw, paint, photograph religiously, I’m finishing up my BFA finally with a double major in Photography and Drawing. I feel like I’ve fought so hard to live up to other people’s expectations, esp. my parents. (It never worked) I love and cherish my alone time, I read constantly, not just for school, I am just a fanatical learner. I have a small group of close friends and that’s it. I married an ESTJ, and I think we’ve been a great match so far…I’ve never felt like the popular one, never fit in, in some ways, never wanted to.
(Even in the art dept, I don’t fit in. They dress like they went to Goodwill, I dress… normal!)

I’ve always felt like the outsider looking in, I hate crowds and loud people…I would rather sit at home on the weekend and paint, or work on the computer, or redecorate my house. Someone mentioned having coffee with friends, and that sounds like the perfect outing to me. I am always thinking about the future, and sometimes that’s the only thing that gets me through the present. I chuckle when I read about having a strong sense of justice, because nothing gets me angrier in this world than to see someone get wronged. I struggle with crowds, so I take classes online, and I love it!!


I also liked this:

Extroverts are like aliens to me. I look at them with curiosity. What in the world goes on inside their pretty heads?

And I especially liked this:

Being an INFJ to me, is like living inside of a locked house with a very pretty front lawn. People walk by and they see things that they like. A few people even stop and admire the house for awhile, and then move on. Some people try to pluck the flowers out of the ground, taking advantage of the beautiful yard when they don’t think anyone is watching.

But I’m always inside, and I always see the people walking by. Only a few people stop to see if there is anyone inside of the house. At one point it bothered me tremendously what other people thought of me. Then I learned I was an INFJ. My curiosity has been insatiable. I read everything I can get my hands on. When I realized that I was perfectly normal, for an INFJ, and I felt better immediately. I stopped trying to put on an act for other people, and I immediately felt a sense of peace come over me, a sense of peace that has been very new to me. I feel very contented, because everything I’ve read has validated my feelings and validated my existence. It helps me to

counteract the effects of the times I heard from others that I was, “weird”.

Well, world, I’m not weird, I’m an INFJ, and I’m just as normal as every other INFJ. Ah, that feels so good to say.

I’m uncomfortable talking with everyone. That’s normal for me. I’m very easily amused, and very easily thrilled. That’s normal for me. I love people, but I usually doubt that people love me. That’s normal for me. I don’t like to be the center of attention. That’s normal for me. I would rather spend my saturday evening reading than drinking. That’s normal for me, too. I have faith that life will only get better for me if I keep looking toward the future, and working hard in the present. Wowee, I do so many normal things for an INFJ!!! I’m so glad I learned about MBTI.

When I was young I was often told by my teachers, and also by my parents that I was a smart kid. I also got messages from my family that smart people are dumb. Smart people have no common sense according to them. And to a large extent, I lack what they consider to be common sense. I can’t fix a car. Sometimes I put off doing dishes because I value conversation and connection with another human being over chores. I’ll switch my major from engineering to communications, just because I know it’s better for my happiness, even if it’s not better for my wallet. I care very little about my financial situation, now or in the future. I have goals for my life that I planned out when I was little. My most important goal is that I want to be happy. I want to be happy in my career, and in my family life, and with a few strong friendships. I had a sad childhood, and am busily trying to overcome it. I also have a strong drive to be the best I can be. I’m rather competitive. I like to be held. I like it when people thank me for helping them, and the feeling is especially good when I helped them without realizing that I did, just by being me.

My best friend here says, “You usually don’t know what’s going on, but you usually know just what everyone’s feeling.” My boyfriend says, “How did you know I wanted to go inside? I didn’t tell you.” and he says, “How did you know I needed that hug? I didn’t tell you.” He’s an INTJ. He’s very perceptive, too. But not so much about people’s feelings. When I need a hug, he usually happily obliges, once I tell him I need a hug.

I absolutely love being an INFJ. I love having access to this great store of knowledge. I love my creativity. I love my intense and varied moods. I love intrinsically knowing people, sometimes better than they know themselves. And I don’t mind that I don’t like big parties. I don’t mind that I don’t like office politics. I don’t mind that I think about things a lot and analyze them like crazy. I like being me. I like being an INFJ. I’m completely normal.

Thanks to Megan, I can stop defending myself about this compulsive need to defend myself, because I know it is me. I can stop questioning why I write what I write, because it is me. I can grin when I say that I love to be cuddled, and I will immediately dismiss as a potential boyfriend any man that doesn’t like to cuddle, sorry boy.

I can smile knowing that I adore twitter because it lets me reach people one-on-one from a nice safe distance. Bliss! It’s like it was built for INF [and T] Js, custom made! I can be content with my likes and dislikes, and with seeing through people in a way others don’t see or understand. I can know that no one is above faking, not even INFJs,and I can grin knowing that even though I’m sometimes fluff to others, I am always true to me, because that’s just the way I am.

I can accept that it’s hard for me to accept that people like me, and to believe that I am popular, but that it is even harder for me to realise that for no distinct reason, some people out there don’t like me, and some of them are my friends!! I can accept that I can’t change their minds, but I know not to beat myself up for wanting to. That’s me. I can stop questioning why I am not ‘like other girls’ because it is me. Heheh yes Nzembi, I know what you said about that. **grin**

But best of all, I realised that almost all the deep, dark, whiny INFJs I read about today found love. Happy love! With all the creepy, crawly, crazy zany quirks, they found a special someone to accept and love them, and not all of them were E’s! So yes, I can also stop questioning why I am unnaturally drawn to I’s, it is simply me. I can stop being upset that while I respect and comprehend my beloved ones, I am still scared by my Fi’s when they go into themselves and shut me out, coz that’s me too.

I can admit that I hurt easily because it’s my nature, and not blame myself for being weak. Instead I embrace that part of me, grin, bear it, and get over it. I will not run away. I will not hide to avoid hurt then hate myself for hiding. Instead I will shine, hurt, and heal.

Finally, and happily, I can recognise my feelings, my thoughts, my reactions, and even my responses to those thoughts, feelings and reactions without apologising to anyone, especially to myself. Today, I’ve grown beyond a resigned acceptance, I’ve flown past the wry smile. I’ve gone hukooooo way ahead of acquiescence. Today, I embrace myself, and I celebrate all that I am.

So now, I has a happee. Yay!! He’s out there somewhere, and I shall find him. We will work on it, we will compromise, but above all, he will love that I am a BJ-phobic commifrigid antistriptease waxallergic I-specific pseoudopushy uberclingy nymphoprude, and he will love to cuddle me in my sleep, and he will love my little girl and the little girl inside me, and I will be happy. Just like I am now. So there.

Wenye wivu meza we—>?

**grin**

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