Well, I want to say that I think that Socionics looks like a great tool for self-improvement and self-knowledge, which I can totally dig, but the problem is that, after having taken so many personality tests I've got a pretty good handle on which questions type for which functions, so I can pretty much make myself any type I want to be now.
Which actually might be kind of fun, being someone else, but I'd much rather, like, figure out who I am in this system. I tend to get about the same three types on these tests, but I'd rather not tell you what those are, since, well, I don't want to "color your perception" or anything like that. Mostly because I worry that I may have been consistently typing myself wrong for years and that my real type may be way different than what I usually get.
Anyways, whatever, as to who I am:
My name is Steven, I'm 22 years old, male, 5'11", 138 pounds, with hazel eyes and dishwater blonde hair. I have a deep "radio announcer" voice, and I'm left-handed when it comes to writing and doing fine motor skill stuff, but for pretty much everything else I use my right hand. Also I'm right-eye dominant. Apparently these kinds of things are important for typing.
I make the best cup of coffee in my state (or, at least I like to think that I do), but that doesn't mean won't drink coffee from a restaurant either. Its universally shitty no matter where you get if from, so there is at least a comforting predictability to it. Also, I usually don't swear unless I'm around people who also swear. And this forum fuckin' swears a lot.
I like to drive well in excess of the speed limit whenever I can because it makes me feel good. In fact, slowing down makes me feel kind of anxious. I also like girls with soft skin and blonde hair. I've never, like, been with such a girl. Or any girl, for that matter. I feel like the most presumptuous kind of asshole when I ask a girl, "Hey! Do you want to spend hours sitting in a coffee-shop trading inane bullshit for hours about nothing whatsoever where we both leave knowing nothing about each other?" Who wants to start relationships that will more than likely end later, anyway? I don't want to sound like a Debbie Downer here, but it seems that's just how first relationships tend to go. Which makes this kind of an amusing Catch 22 (I have read the book so I feel that entitles me to use the phrase) since if you've never gone through a couple of bad relationships then how will you know what to do when the woman of your dreams comes along? But then, if she's the woman of your dreams, why not wait for her and spare yourself the relationship drama?
Actually, wait, that wasn't a Catch-22 at all, but who cares, this stream of conciousness stuff doesn't lend itself well to proofreading.
Sometimes I read about stuff like this or this or this and it pisses me off so bad I just can't sit down. I have to stand up from my computer chair and pace around my basement and talk to myself. Talking to myself helps me to organize my thoughts and vocalize what I'm feeling. I don't usually talk to other people about this stuff because... I'm not sure, I just don't.
A selection of other things that piss me off:
Litterbugs: You are not a filthy fucking animal and you don't get to just leave your shit where it lies for some other poor bastard to pick up. Throw it in a fucking garbage can you lazy asshole.
People who give overly detailed instructions on how to do really simple tasks: Look, just tell me what I need to do and then get out of my way. If I want your help as to how to do it more efficiently or more effectively, then I'll ask you. Otherwise stop telling me how to work and let me work.
People who correct your grammar in real life: I can get doing this on a message board because you don't have body language or facial expressions to go by and so the written word is all you have but fuck people who do this in real life. I have a really good friend who will correct me every time I have a slip of the tongue or when I trip over my words or when my mouth has, like, a "processing error" when I talk and he'll say, "HAHA YOU SAID THAT WRONG" and I'll say fuck you, you asshole, so I tripped over my words, fuck you, you don't need to call attention to that!
There/their/they're and your/you're and the people who get right up their ass about it: You can't even hear the distinction in real life for fuck's sake. You knew exactly which form I was using not based on how it was spelled but based on how I used it in the sentence, in context. Why the fuck are you correcting me on something you were smart enough to figure out anyway? Why do we even have these words anyway? Why can't we just smoosh them down into one word each and make them all totally context sensitive?! French speakers do that shit all the time with their language and you're telling me we get stymied by this?! God damn!
People who get in the fast lane and don't go fast: Fuck courtesy. I am a corteous guy normally. I am the most polite demure guy you know normally. But not when this happens. No. NO. If you are going to get in the fast lane, go fast. If someone is in the fast lane behind you and wants to go faster than you, then speed up or gracefully bow out of the fast lane and allow him to pass. Don't make me ride your tailgate to get you to leave because I SO fucking will. I won't honk. Honking is just rude. But I will ride you like a filthy French hooker if you aren't going as fast as I want to be.
Oh, and on friends: I have two. There are a great many people who consider me their friend but whose friendship I don't reciprocate because... I dunno. As one of the women who has dated me before has said, "I am a person of many walls."
Friend #1: The guy who corrects my speech slurs. He's going to college to study acting and he's pretty adventurous: he's migrated all around the world when he was young since his family moved around a lot, and he's gone on study abroad trips to London and Bulgaria. Despite his willingness to go far far away from friends and family to parts unknown at the drop of a hat, he's remarkably unwilling to just go out into the world and find real paying acting work. He wants to finish college first, he says. Also he is twice my size, drinks me under the table (but prefers to teetotal) and likes comic books and the movie Cemetary Man. He almost never talks if you don't directly address him, and even then he's more inclined to just answer you in a kind of monosyllabic monotone. HE even does this about stuff he's supposedly interested in or legitimately enjoyed. You really have to twist his arm, so to speak, to get him to talk in paragraphs. I was introduced to him in acting class, where I was told that he was from Australia. He is actually American, and I was disappointed and relived that he didn't have an Australian accent.
Friend #2: The exact social opposite of Friend #1. I've had whole conversations with the man where my only contribution was to ask him to clarify something or what he thought about something. His favorite topics of conversation are Magic the Gathering and the strategies involved therein, his latest sexual conquests, his job and the drama contained therein, and the finer qualities of various draft beers. He is also twice my size and can also drink me under the table. He is currently dating a pre-op transsexual. He has no qualms whatsoever about the fact that his girlfriend has a penis. I find his complete lack of shame in telling me about these things to be fucking hilarious. He's studying to be a corporate lawyer, which suits him (pardon the pun), but his secret desire is to teach history. Which is funny because he likes to joke about pedophilia. We were introduced in a high school civics class, where he showed me a painted wizard miniature.
Dad: Total workaholic. Gets up in the morning, goes to his job as a dermatologist, sees fifty patients a day, gets home, throws his levis on and then works in the yard, or cooks, or goes up to work on his tree farm, or writes journals for any of the half dozen medical societies he's a part of. The man hardly even sleeps at night. I don't know how he does. Just nothing but energy inside of this man. He used to have lots of hobbies, most of which involed carpentry, but he's trying to get rid of all that now and simplify his life in preparation for a much deserved retirement.
Mom: Also a workaholic. Gets up at five in the morning to go to work as the manager of the trauma program of a new hospital downtown. Used to be an emergency room nurse. Got really freaked out by eyes. Of all the things to be freaked out about, she got squeamish whenever there were eye injuries. She comes home and cleans inside, or cooks, or writes papers to be published for medical journals, and then maybe reads a book for a few hours before going to bed. Thinks that I'm a great writer and actor but that I'm wasting my talents by playing computer games all the time. Likes the fact that I'm trying to take more financial responsibility though. Wants me to find my motivation and finally graduate college.
Sister: Loves money. Loves money. Can't get enough money. She likes to make money and she likes to spend money. She's even told me that she wouldn't care how shitty and awful her job is, she would still do it if the money were good. She is almost never at home. She usually only comes home to sleep before going to work or to school or to hang out with friends. Supposedly hates getting drunk while still managing to drink most of the alcohol in the house. Thinks I'm a weird shut-in who needs to get out more. Maybe she's right.
As to college, I'm on my... let's say my thirteenth career choice now, journalism. I'm not liking most of the classes but I've resolved to just get it over with and get my degree and then get as far away from organized education as possible. I don't even really have any desire to be a journalist, it just seemed "kinda cool" when I was looking at career options. If you aren't in college yet, allow me to tell you that going in without a plan is a spectacularly bad idea and that floundering around between majors is a great way to induce extreme nihilistic anger at life within yourself.
Is "existential angst" a cliche, now?
Whatever, I hope this exercise gives you plenty of material to pick at my brain with. I'm hoping this is the only Type Me thread I ever have to make. I'm going to go ahead and assume that you are hoping the same thing.
Anyway, ask me whatever questions you feel like asking. I'm keeping as open a mind as I can about this.