Results 1 to 30 of 30

Thread: a brief story

  1. #1

    Join Date
    Sep 2011
    Posts
    8,578
    Mentioned
    7 Post(s)
    Tagged
    0 Thread(s)

    Default a brief story

    tell me your socionics impressions of this story.

    I hated this man. I remember him as an extraordinarily bad tempered ogre who made life miserable for everyone around him.
    I want to describe a typical day in my childhood. Until about 5 PM everything was relatively normal. At about that point my father came home from work. If I had any friends playing with me in our yard, they knew enough to leave. My father would arrive home and prowl around the house looking for something to yell about. One thing seemed about as good as another; he always found something. Occasionally he just started yelling whenever he found something. More often he waited until dinner. We all ostensibly ate together. At least we were all supposed to go the dining room table and eat together. It seemed like virtually every dinner for several years running he would start yelling at someone in the family, usually one of my sisters. I learned early to keep a low profile. Usually my mom would intervene and take the brunt of his wrath. Usually at least one person and more often everyone except me ran away from the table crying, seething. I seethed. I hated these dinners. But I always stayed at the table and ate until I was full. Usually alone.

    As often as not my father had to go to some meeting in the evening so he wasn't around. If he was home, he would either work in his office, where he was unappoachable, or watch TV. I think my quality time with him consisted of us watching TV together, not saying a word to each other. Usually all of the kids tried to stay in another part of the house, the better to avoid him and his wrath. It didn't always work, but there was no other reasonable strategy.

    There were three kids, of whom I am the oldest. Sandra and Carol are two and four years younger than me. He did not treat us equally or fairly. When I was 8 I got a nickel a week allowance. When I was 12 I got a quarter a week, the same as my youngest sister, Carol. When she was twelve she got a dollar or two. In similar fashion, she was always given far more than Sandra or I. It was always clear that Craig was willing to give her things that he wouldn't give to either Sandra or me. The situation persisted until the day of his death.

    He was very concerned with images and appearances. He wanted to present a certain picture to the outside world. We had to fit into his picture. He never adjusted his picture because of our desires or needs.

    In one sense I had it easy. I was a boy. He wanted me to look a certain way. He wanted me to do well in school. Otherwise he pretty much left me alone. Since I did well in school anyway, that was never a problem. The rest is such a hackneyed 1960s story you should be able to predict it. Haircuts were a serious issue. It all started innocently enough. One summer it was hot. I must have been in 6th or 7th grade. I told the barber to give me a whiffle cut. When my father saw it he exploded. When my hair regrew enough to be shaped he insisted I get a flattop cut. It was only hair, so I did. For several years. After a while I decided this was a dorky haircut and let it grow. Initiating a constant series of fireworks. He had me ready to run away from home several times. I don't mean as a momentary thing. I mean that I seriously weighed my options and my future; what price was my freedom from this idiot? In the end I hung on until I got to college. Since that college was Princeton I was A number one material for his public image and he shut up a bit. But as I let my hair grow, he threated to pull me out of school. In my senior year I finally let it grow shoulder length. He had no more leverage.

    My sisters were not so lucky. They had a more extensive and superficial image they had to match. Neither ever achieved it. I doubt either could have. So he disapproved of them. I knew he never approved of me, but it seemed worse for them. Carol seemed to be able to fit into the mold. Until she got sick in about 3rd grade. Suddenly she couldn't see well enough to read. On one hand some things were tried to help her. As was usually the case, what was done was too little, too late. On the other hand, suddenly she was failing in school and she faced massive and continuing disapproval. She began to hang out with other n'er-do-wells and began a career as something of a juvenile delinquent. She must have become schizophrenic as she somehow maintained herself as his ideal child in several ways while being anything but in most everything else. As things got crazier and crazier, Sandra and I actually benefitted because he left us alone more.

    Eventually things got so nuts that Carol attempted suicide while she was in high school. This might have alerted even the brain dead that there was an extremely serious problem that required a different approach. Carol was institutionalized for a year or two, then in various halfway houses. The whole family had to see Carol's therapist, who needed to get a read on what exactly was going on in her life. Craig didn't believe in psycotherapy in any form. His participation was grudging and happened only when there was no possible alternative. His behavior changed not one iota. Sandra and I had already figured out that the way to save ourselves was to create enough distance for ourselves that Craig couldn't threaten us under any circumstances. Again I was lucky. I was nearly out of college. My dependency was about to stop. While I mostly hated Princeton, I suffered thru it, actually finding a few things to like there towards the end of my stay. Sandra was equally unprepared for college. She quit Ithaca College after a semester, then bounced around for several years before enrolling and graduating from Boston University, then Indiana University and finally doing doctoral work at City College in NY. Not being in college left her exposed to all the bullshit my father could throw at her. But it also left her working and not directly dependent on him.

    While all this was going on, Craig was the pillar of the local Episcopal church. For many years he was the treasurer of the church. We went every Sunday. I remember that Jesus was the reason I had to get dressed up, etc. Nothing that they could tell me in Sunday school could counteract the certainty that anybody that made me get dressed up every Sunday was bad. Of course we had to get dressed up-it was the ritual and the appearances that mattered. I can only imagine how I would have been punished if I insisted on going to church without dressing up. The upshot of it all was that I suffered along with it all. In around 9th grade all the kids had to study for a whole winter and pass some test before we could be confirmed as members of the church in our own right. I was a good student. I easily got the highest mark on the test. I was too good a student. I was thinking about what I professing to believe in. I knew I didn't. About a year later I stopped going to church. Shortly afterwards I discover Taoism and have never considered myself Christian since. Craig was so blind that he wasn't aware of that until some 20 years later, when I wrote a series of letters about my experiences living in Indonesia in which I contrasted my inability to accept Islam with my inability to accept Christianity. He never told me directly. He never said anything directly after a while. My mother functioned as his messenger. It was thru her I heard that he was infuriated by my letters. I was also 40 years old and I hadn't been slightly interested in whether he cared about anything in my life for at least 15 years.

    All of the nonsense about appearances came spectacularly in focus at Carol's wedding. Somehow the whole affair was usurped by my parents, who changed it from a celebration for Carol into a pageant for the benefit of my father's business associates. This was absolutely insane since me father had retired a few years earlier and moved from Massachusetts to South Carolina. However, the wedding was staged in my hometown, Needham, Mass. at the old church. The bride and groom were united more in trying to get away from their parents than because they truly wanted to spend life together. Nobody seemed to see this or care. Instead elaborate preparations were made to have the most picture perfect, vapid ceremony that could be staged. The only thing to mar the picture was the minister, who seemed to notice the preponderance of older adults and said some condescending things about how young people liked to inject a few things into the ceremonies that they find meaningful. Then the party proceeded to the local country club for the reception, conceived with the same aesthetic. Sandra and I, along with some other young riffraff sat at a table way at the edge of things. We were obviously there only to be seen by those people who did matter. How tacky was it? There was ice cream so full of preservatives that it didn't melt. How nuts was it? At one point, my mother wanted to get into a fight with me. I don't remember the specifics but I'm sure it had to do with my not accepting the artificiality gracefully. Carol allowed all this to happen because she had always tried to go the extra mile to please my parents. And just like a soldier, she survived her miserable tour of duty high on drugs.
    Last edited by niffweed17; 02-27-2008 at 04:18 AM.

  2. #2

    Join Date
    Sep 2011
    Posts
    8,578
    Mentioned
    7 Post(s)
    Tagged
    0 Thread(s)

    Default

    Carol's unfortunate soap opera has never abated. The marriage, failing on its own, was terminated by the parents of both parties after her husband Matthew suffered severe brain damage in a motorcycle accident. Somehow Carol got a high school equivalency degree and got herself thru Savannah College of Art and Design, graduating with honors. She started a business in Atlanta that was marginally succesful. Superficially successful, but with a hoard of problems just under the surface preventing any real success.

    I remember as a kid the constant carping about how we didn't have enough money to do anything. Especially anything I wanted to do. There was always enough money to get things Carol asked for. There was enough money to buy a cabin cruiser. My father was delighted to be able to bring business associates out fishing for a day. I often went along, and I usually rode outside on the bow most of the way where I could be alone.

    We also owned a series of increasingly fancy cars, culminating in a Cadillac.

    Of course there was money. I just never had a clue how much. Craig never told me. Or told any of us. It was just assumed that there was enough for whatever we truly needed, but that there was wasn't enough for anything unless he wanted it. But there always seemed to be enough for Carol to get things she asked for. Sometimes my mom got a wish or two granted if she kicked and screamed hard enough.

    There were inevitable sqabbles every summer. My mother's mom lived on an island in Portland ME. It was a glorious place to visit. My father despised it. He did everything he could not to come. Wonderful for us-we got to spend a week or two in a great place with him elsewhere. The island proved my father's biggest financial failure. The navy had an oil depot on the island, which was auctioned to the public in the mid 60s. There was a lovely waterfront cottage on a huge parcel. It would have been perfect for us. My father insisted on calculating what he was willing to pay down to the penny. Naturally his bid was a few dollars short of the eventual winning bid. The winning bidder was able to sell most of the land a few years later for about 20 times what he had paid. On the other hand, my dad was very willing to spend as much for an undeveloped house lot on his preferred Cape Cod. This particular development was a failure-15 or 20 years after his purchase most lots in the area hadn't been built on. When he eventually sold, he got his purchase price and not a lot more. I never found much to like about the place on Cape Cod, which I don't suppose anyone will find very surprising.

    In 1977 I visited my parents on Fripp Island, SC. They were contemplating building a house and retiring here. I don't have a lot of nice things to say about this community. It is physically beautiful. The island is a barrier island, which of course should be left wild since it is completely geologically unstable. Half of neighboring Hunting Island washed away in a hurricane a few years after they moved to Fripp. The original development was housing either along the ocean beach or along a golf course. I never have seen any attraction to the notion of looking out one's window at golfers, but then I've never seen any attraction to golf. The beach housing is now under seige. Everyone's front yard consists of huge rocks wired into a massive breakwater. Most of the beach has washed away. Every storm is a threat. I wondered why anyone would comtemplate living in such an exposed place. Of course my parents bought property on the inland side of the island, which is less exposed. But not safe. There were numerous developments on other islands, more inland and much less exposed to the fury of the weather. We drove around and looked at these. I found them all more attractive than the Fripp Island community. On these drives we passed the completely segregated gullah community-poor and black. I never knew my dad was a racist, but his comments about the locals left no doubt at all. We had lived in Needham in the liliest of lily white communities. I never saw blacks until a few were bused into our high school. Those kids lived a kind of absurd life-all the hassles with transportation must have more than compensated for whatever benefits there may have been in coming to our school. I had so little contact that I never encountered the prejudice that comes from infrequent contact. In any event, my father would never have lived in a situation where he would have had to deal with this community. He was content to be part of a crowd of retired white folks from various cold places who all lived in a community connected to the real South Carolina by a single bridge with a security guard at one end.

    It was beautiful to walk around the parts of Fripp Island that weren't yet developed. Of course the rest of the island has now been bulldozed into submission. There isn't really much very attractive about the place now.

    Eventually I got married. After Carol's wedding I wasn't having any part of some huge staged crappy ceremony. Diane and I got married at City Hall with just her mom and stepfather there. A few months later Diane's mom Brenda decided we were going to have a wedding party whether we wanted to or not. I would have preferred to have a party about a mile up some fairly steep mountain-walk or don't come. Don't look for anything fancy because nobody would be willing to carry irrelevant fancy nonsense too far up a mountain. Instead we wound up having a party at an environmental center in the Meadowlands. Guests could walk around the swamp and gaze at the dump next door. I found this suitably thematic.

    This event led to complete family insanity. Of course Diane invited most of my family, never imagining what would follow. At this point Sandra hadn't talked to my parents since about the time of Carol's wedding. Occasionally I would get rather pathetic calls from my mom asking me if I could deliver a message to her since she wasn't even willing for my parents to know where she lived. I'm not sure precisely what Craig did to cause such a schizm, but I know Sandra's anger was directed much more at him than at Barbara. When Diane asked Sandra if she was coming to the wedding, her response was that she wouldn't if my parents did. Craig solved the dilemna for us. He said he wasn't coming to the wedding because we would be serving rice. He meant that he wasn't coming because we had no intention of staging some crappy event for his benefit. Diane offered to cook him a steak. I assume that the offer was made thru Barbara-I can't image Diane actually talking directly to him. In the end Sandra came and met Barbara for the first time in years. Craig stayed home. I can't remember if Carol came-I think not but I don't remember.

    Shortly afterwards Diane and I left for 18 months in Indonesia, where Robert was born. Now Craig and Barbara have their first grandchild. Brenda, Diane's mom, came to Indonesia twice to be with him. Craig and Barbara stayed home. We tried to swing by South Carolina on our way home. We added stops in Hawaii and Seattle for practically free, but adding a stop in South Carolina would have made the tickets prohibitively expensive. However, when we got home we got a pair of free tickets to anywhere in the lower 48, so we went to South Carolina. Craig was so excited to see his grandson he mostly sat in the den and watched TV, as if we weren't there. Of note, he insisted on calling Robert Spike. I have no doubt at all he was furious at me for not naming Robert Craig III, although he never said as much.

    I'm not sure whose idea it was to have us spend the last few days of our week in SC in a cabin at the state park on the next island. Stranded in an fairly interesting place with no car. My mom and Carol visited us frequently. My dad stayed home. It was sufficiently weird that Diane and I decided not to visit South Carolina again for a long time.

    Craig was sick. He was having great some difficulty walking. He was living in an ideal place to walk about-there were beautiful walks thru the salt marshes, along the beaches. He needed to walk an hour or so a day. Instead he got no exercise at all. He continued to smoke and eat candy. In short he was a massive health risk doing nothing to help himself.

    The following summer Craig and Barbara had to travel to Boston to settle the affairs of a recently deceased relative. Diane and I were working with a theater company based in Salem, NY , about an hours drive north of Albany. Barbara somehow convinced Craig to visit us for an hour or two. That was our last contact for the next seven years. In the interim, Carol moved herself and her business selling calenders to a storefront a few miles down the road from my parents. The financial arrangements were and remain a bit screwy. Essentially Carol was leasing the property from my parents. It was not uncommon for her not to be able to pay the rent. As usual Craig was finding a way to prop Carol up financially, while complaining bitterly about it. I found out all about it from my mom, his mouthpiece.
    .
    Last edited by niffweed17; 02-27-2008 at 04:18 AM.

  3. #3

    Join Date
    Sep 2011
    Posts
    8,578
    Mentioned
    7 Post(s)
    Tagged
    0 Thread(s)

    Default

    After taking all sorts of odd summer vacations we decided to go south in 1998. Sandra and her husband Jeremy decided to join us in South Carolina for a few days. We all decided to stay in the campground on Hunting Island rather than stay at my parent's house. We had a place to retreat to. I needed to undertake such a stressful meeting with a plan. I decided I would speak to my father only if he spoke to me. Which he didn't ever do in the week we spent there. At one point I was sitting with him and Jeremy on the porch. My father launched a bizarre soliloquey at Jeremy in which he said he had been a wonderful parent because he had been such a good provider. editorial note: at the time, jeremy had no children. Jeremy may have been as amazed as I was. Neither of us said a word. Later Craig actually talked to Diane. At no point did he say a word to me or Sandra. At no point did he actually look at me or attempt to make eye contact. It made for an interesting week. As we drove onward to Disney World I knew I was not going to make any further attempt to see him. There was no point.

    When Craig became terminally ill two years later things were no less strange. Carol could make Craig eat, take his medicine, etc. Barbara couldn't. He refused to see a doctor until it was far too late to do anything. His diabetes had led to gangrene in the feet. Several times he went to the hospital only to find the doctors refusing to perform surgery because it would probably kill him on the spot. And so he died a few weeks after the gangrene appeared.

    The most bizarre incident came shortly afterward. The local priest was talking to my mother and sister trying to solicit ideas for loving memories to be mentioned in the funeral obituary. Neither could think of anything. Or so they said.
    .
    Last edited by niffweed17; 07-24-2009 at 07:51 AM.

  4. #4
    Creepy-bg

    Default

    no

  5. #5

    Join Date
    Sep 2011
    Posts
    8,578
    Mentioned
    7 Post(s)
    Tagged
    0 Thread(s)

    Default

    umm did you read it? this is intended as a serious topic.

  6. #6
    Éminence grise mikemex's Avatar
    Join Date
    Aug 2006
    Location
    Third Planet
    TIM
    IEE-Ne
    Posts
    1,631
    Mentioned
    37 Post(s)
    Tagged
    0 Thread(s)

    Default

    I did. What's the purpose of the thread anyway?
    [] | NP | 3[6w5]8 so/sp | Type thread | My typing of forum members | Johari (Strengths) | Nohari (Weaknesses)

    You know what? You're an individual, and that makes people nervous. And it's gonna keep making people nervous for the rest of your life.
    - Ole Golly from Harriet, the spy.

  7. #7
    The Iniquitous inumbra's Avatar
    Join Date
    Aug 2007
    TIM
    954
    Posts
    5,989
    Mentioned
    70 Post(s)
    Tagged
    0 Thread(s)

    Default

    Quote Originally Posted by niffweed17 View Post
    this is intended as a serious topic.
    For some reason I'm having a hard time believing this....?

  8. #8
    Creepy-bg

    Default

    no

  9. #9

    Join Date
    Mar 2006
    Location
    Sweden
    Posts
    4,833
    Mentioned
    6 Post(s)
    Tagged
    0 Thread(s)

    Default

    Mu

  10. #10
    aka Slacker Slacker's Avatar
    Join Date
    Oct 2005
    Location
    North Korea
    TIM
    IEE
    Posts
    8,819
    Mentioned
    24 Post(s)
    Tagged
    0 Thread(s)

    Default

    Was the dad an alcoholic or something? This sounds like an incredibly dysfunctional family, with a father who was ill in some way at the center of it, and I wonder if he was sexually abusing Carol.

    Too sick a situation to really know about type. Who are these people?
    It ain't what you don't know that gets you into trouble. It's what you know for sure that just ain't so.
    -Mark Twain


    You can't wake a person who is pretending to be asleep.

  11. #11
    Creepy-Cyclops

    Default

    Please summarise (the story)

  12. #12
    Let's fly now Gilly's Avatar
    Join Date
    Nov 2005
    TIM
    3w4 sx/so
    Posts
    24,757
    Mentioned
    91 Post(s)
    Tagged
    0 Thread(s)

    Default

    Why are you guys being complete cocks about this? I have little doubt that niff is being completely sincere in his desire for a response.

    I'm not sure if it would be too obvious to state that the father seems incurably Beta in the worst possible way. The author gives me the impression of being an NT and maybe irrational, most probably ILI. I guess I will tentatively say SLE or EIE for the father and EIE or IEI for the mother. Perhaps IEI for Carol. Sandra might be the same quadra as the author.


    Funny thing: my parents own two homes on the very island outside of Portland mentioned here.

  13. #13
    Let's fly now Gilly's Avatar
    Join Date
    Nov 2005
    TIM
    3w4 sx/so
    Posts
    24,757
    Mentioned
    91 Post(s)
    Tagged
    0 Thread(s)

    Default

    Quote Originally Posted by Slacker Mom View Post
    I wonder if he was sexually abusing Carol.
    I wouldn't doubt it for a second if there were any positive evidence whatsoever.

    Too sick a situation to really know about type.
    This is the absolute truth.

  14. #14
    The Iniquitous inumbra's Avatar
    Join Date
    Aug 2007
    TIM
    954
    Posts
    5,989
    Mentioned
    70 Post(s)
    Tagged
    0 Thread(s)

    Default

    Sorry for doubting your sincerity Niffweed.

  15. #15
    MysticSonic's Avatar
    Join Date
    Sep 2004
    Location
    USA
    Posts
    2,993
    Mentioned
    4 Post(s)
    Tagged
    0 Thread(s)

    Default

    Story made me so angry that I couldn't read the whole thing.

    I don't really care what his type is. I don't care about pieces of shit.

    And yea too unhealthy to type and all that.
    "To become is just like falling asleep. You never know exactly when it happens, the transition, the magic, and you think, if you could only recall that exact moment of crossing the line then you would understand everything; you would see it all"

    "Angels dancing on the head of a pin dissolve into nothingness at the bedside of a dying child."

  16. #16

    Join Date
    Mar 2006
    Posts
    1,969
    Mentioned
    2 Post(s)
    Tagged
    0 Thread(s)

    Default

    I hope this doesn't sound too impertinent, but the fact that the website automatically removes the indents is probably one reason why people aren't reading your story with the attention it deserves. I would recommend skipping a line after every paragraph if you have time to edit it.

  17. #17

    Join Date
    Sep 2011
    Posts
    8,578
    Mentioned
    7 Post(s)
    Tagged
    0 Thread(s)

    Default

    Quote Originally Posted by Jonathan View Post
    I hope this doesn't sound too impertinent, but the fact that the website automatically removes the indents is probably one reason why people aren't reading your story with the attention it deserves. I would recommend skipping a line after every paragraph if you have time to edit it.
    sorry

  18. #18

    Join Date
    Mar 2006
    Posts
    1,969
    Mentioned
    2 Post(s)
    Tagged
    0 Thread(s)

    Default

    Okay, I finally read it. It's very matter-of-fact in style, and from some definitions, it's full of . If so, it's the aspect of I feel least connection with. (That's not a reflection of the quality of the story, just my reaction to it.) It's so different from the way I write stories (or used to...haven't had time in awhile). It just has so many facts; my stories would be more made up, and would focus more on the twists, odd happenings, poetic phrases, symbolism, emotions, and overall a sense of structure.

    I must say, I'm not 100% convinced that this emphasis on "the facts" is Te, and I've known some clear F types who write that way, but then again by some definitions, it is related Te, or at least some aspect of Te.

    In some ways, this story reminds me of a really good novel called "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time." Of course, it's very different in that your character seems basically normal, whereas the novel is told from the point of view of a highly autistic child. However, it presents a good example of how one can use a highly matter-of-fact narrative style in a dramatic way that affects the reader's emotions. The trick in the novel is dramatic irony: The first-person narrator sees and tells things in a way that suggests that he's not aware of the emotions of others (or of emotions at all); however, many things are clear to the reader that aren't clear to the character. It is this tension which gives the story shape and holds the reader's interest.

    Anyhow, overall, I think the best part of your story is the way you're able to maintain the fact-based tone in a way that's convincing and believable. However, my own personal opinion is that I would like to see a fuller participation of more information aspects...perhaps some Fi to go with Te, for example....or maybe some "growth" event (e.g., some circumstance that forces the narrator to confront his lack of conscious awareness of his own feelings of resentment)...maybe like the movie Beautiful Mind, where he has a shift at the end regarding what he believes is really important. In particular, I don't get the sense that the first-person narrator has changed much over the course of his life. I realize that it's hard to write about experiences you've never been through, but somehow when he says he's 40, it doesn't seem believable to me.

    I also see the part following "The situation persisted until the day of his death" as a possible missed opportunity. Since the piece of information "the day of his death" comes suddenly and unexpectedly, it suggests the opening of another dramatic turn (I'm thinking of the way Poe can be very matter-of-fact and then suddenly jolt the reader in a highly effective way), but that doesn't happen.

    Anyhow, I don't mean to be too critical. These are just my opinions.

  19. #19

    Join Date
    Mar 2006
    Posts
    1,969
    Mentioned
    2 Post(s)
    Tagged
    0 Thread(s)

    Default

    One other quick thought....I guess taking a step back, the story is largely about the theme of artificiality. The narrator seems disgusted with the artificiality of his father, and seeks to make his own more "geniune" choices in his life.

    This is another reason why portraying him as telling this story from age 40 or so presents a particular challenge. I think people in their teens are keenly aware of artificiality as an issue. One reason for this may be that parents feel that they're judged by others regarding how they raise their families, so they may compensate by being overly concerned about "appearances." As the children get older though, I think this typically becomes a less salient theme, as they tend to forget how this was a problem, and are more focused on their own challenges in life.

    Then again, events later on could cause a person to reflect on superficiality/artificiality in other ways. Perhaps this could involve some circumstance that reminds the character of his father and growing up. Certainly, the problem of artificiality is a common one in literature.

    An interesting question is whether the obsession of the parents on "appearances" is at all type related. I think it's typical for "N" children to view their parents as "S" and to see "S" as the reason for all that negative superficiality. It may be an illusion though and have nothing to do with "N" and "S."

  20. #20
    Cudcat's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jan 2008
    Posts
    105
    Mentioned
    1 Post(s)
    Tagged
    0 Thread(s)

    Thumbs up

    The entire story was told in a Ni manner in which one event leads to another rather than showing the possibilities. Sure there were some key points where the story could have taken a different turn, but the narrator treated it in a more as was expected manner. That the narrator also values Fi is equally clear seeing his nonconformity and outright disdain for his fathers (bad) Fe.

    เล่าแบบให้รายละเอียดสั้นๆหรือเล็กน้อย:
    I liked this story, especially the fact that he didn't come to some tearjerking insight at the end.

  21. #21

    Join Date
    Mar 2006
    Posts
    1,969
    Mentioned
    2 Post(s)
    Tagged
    0 Thread(s)

    Default

    I liked this story, especially the fact that he didn't come to some tearjerking insight at the end.
    That's a good point...my comments may have suggested that he should have imitated the typical formula of having a big emotional insight at the end. There's something to be said for a story that purposely avoids a cliche. But to make that really work, you have to do it very boldly. I still think that someone in his 40s is going to have more mixed feelings about these things. I mean, a person can be in his 40s and still act totally like a child, but it's different, because you've seen and experienced so many points of view. Also, I don't get the part about hating Princeton without any explanation; again, the way it was said seems to reflect more the thoughts of someone who thinks he'll hate it rather than someone reflecting back on college life.

    What might work with a story like this is to have it progress as if he's getting older (as is the case here), going to where he's 40, where his father passes away, etc., and then at the end the reader realizes that he's still a teenager, dreaming this up, and his father is still alive, yelling at him. Pulling that off convincingly would also be a good writing challenge that would be fun to read. Just a thought...

    Quote Originally Posted by Cudcat View Post
    The entire story was told in a Ni manner in which one event leads to another rather than showing the possibilities. Sure there were some key points where the story could have taken a different turn, but the narrator treated it in a more as was expected manner.
    This is one of those issues that just will never go away...

    Yes, it seems Ni, because while he tells lots of "facts," it isn't very detailed on experiences...one doesn't get a sense of how one experiences things. He mentions that the place by the ocean was beautiful, but the reader is simply being "told" this. Incidentally, many "experts" on creative writng these days tend to recommend a more Si style...."Get the reader to experience it; don't just tell them," they say. I believe you can have a great story based on narrating/telling, as this was common in pre-20th century literature.

    But what you seem to be implying is that Ni is characterized by the absence of unexpected events. This is a common belief on the forum...sometimes expressed as Ne/Si values unexpected stuff, whereas Ni/Se is all about having things go in a predictable manner. (Hitta, with his left-shifting hypothesis, shifts this to Fe/Ti vs. Te/Fi, but that's another story.)

    The fact is, Ni is more about dynamic perception with the absence of specific concrete experiencing (everything is like vapor, narrative).

    What may be true, however, is that there's a lack of Ne here. This may be the key point. Ni doesn't necessarily imply lack of Ne. But rather, you could have Ni with Ne, and you could have Ni without Ne. We agree that there isn't much Ne emphasis in this story.

    In the movie directors thread, I think Expat makes a good case in discussing Stanley Kubrick as ILI that Ni can Ne can go together. Also, for those who believe Woody Allen is ILI (or acc-Ni in any case), it seems that Ni and Ne may co-exist.

    Perhaps one has two different kinds of Ni types (besides IEI and ILI)...namely those who are all Ni and kind of anti Ne, and those who are Ni with Ne too.

  22. #22

    Join Date
    Sep 2011
    Posts
    8,578
    Mentioned
    7 Post(s)
    Tagged
    0 Thread(s)

    Default

    @ jonathan: to clarify: this is a true story. i didn't write it, but i know the person that did.

  23. #23

    Join Date
    Mar 2006
    Posts
    1,969
    Mentioned
    2 Post(s)
    Tagged
    0 Thread(s)

    Default

    Quote Originally Posted by niffweed17 View Post
    @ jonathan: to clarify: this is a true story. i didn't write it, but i know the person that did.
    This could be a good experiment in how assumptions about the person one's listening to affect ones perceptions. We're probably all reading it with the bias that we're thinking it's written by an ILI in high school. Who knows, maybe it's written by an LSE who's in his 40s.

  24. #24
    aka Slacker Slacker's Avatar
    Join Date
    Oct 2005
    Location
    North Korea
    TIM
    IEE
    Posts
    8,819
    Mentioned
    24 Post(s)
    Tagged
    0 Thread(s)

    Default

    I thought it was probably written by his dad. I assumed it was true though.
    It ain't what you don't know that gets you into trouble. It's what you know for sure that just ain't so.
    -Mark Twain


    You can't wake a person who is pretending to be asleep.

  25. #25
    Banned
    Join Date
    May 2005
    TIM
    D-LSI-Ti 1w9 sp/sx
    Posts
    11,586
    Mentioned
    0 Post(s)
    Tagged
    0 Thread(s)

    Default

    This is one of niffweed's more brilliant joke topics.

  26. #26

    Join Date
    Sep 2011
    Posts
    8,578
    Mentioned
    7 Post(s)
    Tagged
    0 Thread(s)

    Default

    Quote Originally Posted by Slacker Mom View Post
    I thought it was probably written by his dad. I assumed it was true though.
    you got it. (i changed all of the names though).



    basically i think my dad's father was probably an asshole for a lot of reasons that are irrelevant to socionics, but from a lot of this description it sounds to me like he was an EIE as well.

    most people who analyzed the content picked up on the Te sort of flow of how the information was organized. i think my dad and i are actually very similar in that regard.


    one thing that i think people did not notice was my dad's overall lifestyle patterns; ie how he had his wedding party (or something like that) at an environmental center which was essentially a dismal swamp. also the cottage in maine that never got bought. in a lot of places he sort of demonstrates the importance he places on his perceptions of the external environment.

  27. #27
    Cudcat's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jan 2008
    Posts
    105
    Mentioned
    1 Post(s)
    Tagged
    0 Thread(s)

    Default

    To Jonathan:
    Yeah, I can see that I put too much focus on a relatively small aspect of Ni.

    Quote Originally Posted by niffweed17
    one thing that i think people did not notice was my dad's overall lifestyle patterns; ie how he had his wedding party (or something like that) at an environmental center which was essentially a dismal swamp. also the cottage in maine that never got bought. in a lot of places he sort of demonstrates the importance he places on his perceptions of the external environment.
    In retrospect it seems obvious.

  28. #28

    Join Date
    Mar 2006
    Posts
    1,969
    Mentioned
    2 Post(s)
    Tagged
    0 Thread(s)

    Default

    I should have gone with my gut instinct and noticed that the concreteness was coming from this being an ST type. Well, at least I was close when I said LSE after niffweed got us back on track...

  29. #29

    Join Date
    Sep 2006
    TIM
    ILI
    Posts
    2,916
    Mentioned
    1 Post(s)
    Tagged
    0 Thread(s)

    Default

    I've only read the first post so far.
    But I think the author has weak Fe. In the passage, he seems to disregard it, and it is unimportant to him.
    More possibly Fe PoLR imo. IxTp.

    Father; weak Se, possibly Se HA.
    Sounds ENFj? He wants to uphold a certain image of his family from what he deems is acceptable to society?
    I'm not so sure.
    INTp
    sx/sp

  30. #30

    Join Date
    Sep 2006
    TIM
    ILI
    Posts
    2,916
    Mentioned
    1 Post(s)
    Tagged
    0 Thread(s)

    Default

    Just from the first passage, I really wonder what was the author dad's childhood like for him to behave in such a way.
    Venting his frustrations on his family, etc.
    INTp
    sx/sp

Posting Permissions

  • You may not post new threads
  • You may not post replies
  • You may not post attachments
  • You may not edit your posts
  •