burnt ears

Let it be known that INTPs:

- Are truthful. This means we may value truth and honesty over sadistic lies.
- Are personable. They’re called Ti-Glasses. They let you see all kinds of cool shit without getting emotionally involved.
- Are nice people! Just don’t fuck with or misinterpret their notions!
- Are passionate about their convictions.
- Are uncomfortable with words like “passionate”.
- When underdeveloped, consider emotional investment scary.
- Say or post things that may seem personal, which really aren’t. Take my signature, for example.
- Cannot stand disharmony, but sure love entropy.
- Have probably already considered or thought about most things you’ve just mentioned, just won’t necessarily vocalize it.
- Will ask for clarification, assuming their ego is not large enough to impede them from doing so without first attempting to figure it out themselves. Oops.
- Have their egos stroked every time you call them “weird” or “nerdy”.
- Will load their brains with copious detail, but will simplify things just for you. Told you, we’re nice.
- Feel like a child without Christmas every time their mental fruit is rejected.
- Do love. But it may be referred to as a violent influx of catecholamines that overwhelms better reason.
- When underdeveloped, may have a love/hate relationship with their object of affection. Or just about everything.
- Can be walking encyclopedias. Please deposit a $1 for data relay.
- Care about enlightening people. Care about people who care about people.
- Have the attention span of a mango. May stare attentively at a mango and zone out for several minutes.
- Go from “spoon” to “thromboses” in ≤2.5 seconds.
- Have hearts that flutter like birds… Lifeless, zombie birds.
- Frequently feel the urge to incinerate the human race and feed its corpses to Cerberus when something goes wrong.
- Are uncomfortable with absolute certainties and permanence.
- Think they’re wrong before you even get the chance to think so. Criticize their work worse than you do, before you do.
- Are creative writers, and friendly just like those cute and flimsy NFs.
- Have UNDISCLOSED feelings and desires.
- Come in layers.
- May be volatile. May explode. May go into Hedgehog Mode like fucking Sonic and impale retarded muthafuckaz.
- Like being asked questions on the possibility that they might have not thought about that before. It happens.
- Naturally see the world as someone would see it under the influence of shrooms.
- Are disappoint*. All the time. Because even though existence is wonderful, humanity sucks.
- Tend to look serious and grumpy. It’s called Deep Thought Syndrome. Do not approach. They will mentally kill you with fire.
- Must CORRECT, at all costs, because cool kids care about semantics.
- Always need to be reminded. Always need to modify. Will weave in random contexts. Antarctica looks like a duck.
- Will do whatever the hell they want with whatever the hell they want, with reason, so long as it doesn’t unjustly harm another human being.
- Say one thing one day and a different thing the other. Their minds are malleable and adaptable.
- Quickly see the point. As well as 3452345 others.
- Worry that you will miss the point.
- Have 25 different faces with 25 different people. None of these 25 faces are untrue to themselves. Whatever their self is. They don’t care.
- Are rained on and reigned by fascination and intrigue.
- Think like excitable children, never really losing their sense of wonder.

*Intentional, you fucking grammar Nazis.

journalofanobody:

““Ordinary life does not interest me. I seek only the high moments. I am in accord with the surrealists, searching for the marvelous. I want to be a writer who reminds others that these moments exist; I want to prove that there is infinite space, infinite meaning, infinite dimension. But I am not always in what I call a state of grace. I have days of illuminations and fevers. I have days when the music in my head stops. Then I mend socks, prune trees, can fruits, polish furniture. But while I am doing this I feel I am not living.” ― Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1: 1931-1934”

—

I usually find so much to agree with in the words of Anais Nin, but I find her words here terribly sad, for she describes how much life she missed out on. There is music, too, in the mending of socks, the pruning of trees, and the polishing of furniture. To do these things with proper awareness and the right frame of mind, one is living as vividly as when experiencing what she calls the “high moments.” These simple acts are marvelous too, they can be acts of love—or at least done lovingly, and savored, cherished. I think people now, in this age of always seeking the next hi-tech thrill, this age of such easy ennui, especially need to be reminded of the existence of these small glorious moments. ~Nobody