INTJ v. INFJ Smackdown

In the only publicly posted comment on my very fine essay, “INTJ, Therefore I Am,” my dear friend Euphrosyne alleges:  “T sucks!  F rocks!  INFJ!  INFJ!” 

In all fairness, I must concede that INFJs actually have much better insight into human nature than INTJs do, and that while I can usually average 75% accuracy by virtue of being 100% right on half the people (usually those I don’t know well) and 50% wrong on the other half (usually my best friends), Euphrosyne can nail almost anyone dead between the eyes from at least 1000 miles off on the basis of nothing but small bits of second or third hand evidence.  She always was much better than I at archery, and I probably still have the gym class grades to prove it. 

The reason for this difference is of course perfectly accounted for by the MBTI itself.  However, although it will undoubtedly fascinate Euphrosyne and possibly a few other MBTI junkies out there, it will likely bore the rest of you silly.  So, 

Multiple Personalities, Rooms to Grow In

As some of you have noticed, I have decided to move most of my thoughts about parenting, pics of my adorable child, as well as mama-related links to a new site: Travels With Henry.  As if I do not have enough freedom here to write about whatever the hell I want.  But I don’t.

You see, for the past two years, the body and mind that Pollyanna inhabits have been almost exclusively devoted to two things: Henry (about 85%), her day job (about 15%).  Make that 2 years 8 months or so.  Pollyanna.Sunshine was born at first out of my dissatisfaction with the 15%, but it’s only recently that I have realized how much more there is to me that got squeezed out first while I was prioritizing my job and new marriage and then completely eclipsed when Henry came along and became the center of my universe and an all-consuming passion and 24/7 commitment out of which was quite difficult to salvage even enough time or energy for my job or marriage.

Don’t get me wrong–I love my kid and my husband and most of the time I am very fond of my day job, and being HenryMommy and HisWife and Prof. MyRealName are all pretty crucial to my sense of myself.  In fact, the first time I was separated from both of them for more than 12 hours since Henry’s birth, a little over a month ago when they went on a 4-day trip to visit relatives, I was so completely at a loss that I thought I was going to have a psychotic break. 

But I spent that weekend talking to friends and reading and sorting through old papers and went to both a party and a movie by myself.  And I remembered that there was more to me.  Or there used to be.  A creative me, a political me, a spiritual me, a sexual me, a me with a healthy imagination and diverse interests in music and books and art and ideas.  A me who wasn’t so busy taking care of everyone else’s needs that she had time to stop and breathe and think and look around her.  And to write about what she saw.  And I suddenly realized I needed to find that girl again.

Oh, you evil people have sucked me in.

Just finished rewatching Serenity, and am now waiting for the full set of episodes to arrive in the mail.  Thank you for giving me a new obsession.  Like I did not have enough already. 

Until I can report back about my complete assessment, you may wish to take this quiz: Which Firefly character are you?  Anyone have even a flicker of doubt as to what my quiz results said?  Or any doubt at all that I haven’t already assigned a character to everyone I know?