My Multiple Personalities

Personality test scores for me always tended toward "I'm such a FEELER. Can I feel you? Feel me." This was back in my semi-hippy days, where every opportunistic college lower-classman feels the need to vascilitate between "budding-philosopher-I-am-like-so-becoming-enlightened-right-NOW" and "Is it EARTH DAY?" This is supposed to ensure the individual with everything from a cool, natural, not-at-all-matching look to a cool "I am ME" reputation. I can pretty safely say I was too overwhelmed with just being in college to form much of an alter-ego, but somewhere out there, there is a photo of me with flowers in my long, "Is it curly or just bumpy?" hair; I am clinging to a tree yes, in a park. Jesus was also there, I'm quite sure. It's so serene, I can almost deny the humiliating truth that I am soooooo out of touch with the real, modern world. Oh well.

Myers Briggs indicated as much as well-A intuitive feeler who finds JOY in people, empathetic toward emotion, and ever so easily hurt. This was about 5 years ago.

Yesterday a friend asked me if I had been one of those "Mean Girls" in high school. When I said no, her clearly skeptical facial expression brought about some very intriguing questions. Why was she so disbelieving? Have my current traits of constant sarcasm, intrinsic judgement, and strong opinions got anything to do with it?

It was then that I realized,

I HAVE CHANGED.

In high school I was absolutely ADAMANT about everyone liking me and thinking I was a nice person. Oh the tears shed over what seemed a cold shoulder or impatient remark or the worst, gossip about me. I was friendly to everyone...then.

Now? Well, I'm afraid somehow, someway, the Myers Briggs characteristic of JUDGEMENT has snuck its way into my harmony-loving heart. This demonstrates itself in a variety of ways, to the point where I have been tagged as the Facebook friend who "won't take your crap," and dangerous in the deed of discipline: "Ms. Clark will devastate you if you talk in class!" "You are gonna whip them into shape!" and so on (authentic student quotes). Just being jokingly called "jerk" by friends has got to mean something. Oh dear.

When I look back to the years of the flowers, I have no idea when this change came about. All I know is I got older and consequently MEANER. Were I to categorize most of the people I see and events we as human deal with on a daily basis, words like "stupid," "ridiculous," and "Really????" would successfully convey my perspective. Unbelievably, I have warped into a proxy snob.

BUT,

I haven't given up entirely on feeling though. I'm still easily affected-funny since I hate to admit it. I still love my friends and would probably write a scathing blog about anyone who had mistreated them in the hope of destroying the provoker's LIFE (wait...is that protective or mean?). I just tend to fancy the feeling of logical reasoning as well. I can't say as I really thought through very much as that breezy teenage girl-I was too preoccupied with EVERYTHING, so much so that my conclusions drifted towards nothing.

I suppose this entire piece is a sort of apology-not the "I'm so sorry, can I weep on your shoulder?" kind, but the "Can I try to make sense of and explain myself?" kind. It's also to assure you, gentle reader, that I don't hate you if I laugh at you or say something sarcastic that ends up making you feel idiotic and publicly "dunced." Likely, I lack some of this wisdom and judgement I've been advocating for here. Is that the way it always is? The things we fixate upon the most are the biggest struggles for us? If I'm really honest, I'm currently trying to rip those little white daisies out of my tangled hair without anyone noticing-I don't want to look stupid.

Logic. Judgement. Feeling. Balance? Yes. Then I can move to the next square. Myers Briggs, brace yourself.

On Dating Duty.

I’ve been studying the letters in the word “Adventism” lately, and although I can pull the word “date” out of it (ooo, shiver), I was somewhat confused by not being able to also find “courtship,” “marriage,” “Christian offspring,” or especially, “if you don’t marry asap, you will be conversely ostracized just as quickly, so sign up for Adventist singles first…asap.” After all, I had heard such token terms companioned with "Adventism" so frequently, I had just assumed...something. It’s an amusing situation, bordering threateningly close to completely comic—in a “please put me in an insane asylum for safe keeping, I am laughing so hard right now” type of way. If you are currently a single Adventist young person, you may be laughing like this right now…self consciously, because as much as you would like to make fun of the idea, you are absolutely terrified the old elders’ tales are true—that you are already past the point of no return, that you already are a spinster, male or female, doomed to a long life of imaginary games.

Various friends of mine show the symptoms, “I don’t understand guys/girls these days…well, I mean, I can’t really because there aren’t any my age. Every Sabbath I come and sit in these pews and just stare at the couples, but mostly the white hairs, or the sullen gleam from lack of hairs. I’m getting old too. In approximately 40+ years I will be just like them. What am I going to do…? Time is running out! Wait, whoa, is that a new guy/girl? He/She’s ALONE! And he/she’s seems to be fairly alert, relatively mobile, and even breathing…I gotta check them, I mean, this out…”

I’m not exactly exaggerating. Really. I wish I was. But here we are. I just can’t figure out the mentality of, “if I appear desperate enough, I’ll be sure to find someone.” Yes, you will, though perhaps not someone who’s quite ideal; “Let me wave my neediness like a banner so as to attract all possible takers, namely those just as codependently hungry as me, aka the vultures.” While it is true that these birds of prey do commonly feed on carrion, there is no reason to place yourself so self-deprecatingly in this category just yet—I promise. Please believe me…

Despite catch-phrases like “wife-hunter” and “theology major” sending chills down all female spines the first couple years of college, these same shivering ladies will be flocking and flogging each other trying to be first in line in a few years time, after several Sabbaths alone and single in their solitary career worlds. It’s too late… Around this point, it is apparently definitely time to begin actively searching for any and all divorcees, older individuals, and if necessary, ex-cons.

It is true that women do not age well. I asked my mother at what age does it all slide irretrievably downhill. She paused and looked surprised at my question, and somewhat offended, “And you’re asking me this why? Because I know?”

“No, no! Just out of curiosity, I want to know how to mentally prepare myself.”

“Honey, you don’t need to worry about this. There isn’t an age.” Mom, yes there is.

I feel the impending doomsday lurking out there just as tangibly as every other female under 40, or maybe 37. Somehow, someway, it goes. Guys, if you’re confused about this dubious “it,” I won’t explain in hopes of keeping you in the dark. Girls, well, you know what I mean. My point is that I can sympathize with the feelings of insecurity that come with each passing week, month, year, wrinkle, sag, and scar. BUT, let us not advertise these sentiments! What ever happened to good acting? It seems we truly are too influenced by Hollywood…’s low standards in dramatic presentation. Walk with your head high in the church aisles, ladies—and not purely for the sake of scanning. Yes, yes, I refer to the infamous and widely used method of looking around nonchalantly for prospects, and if there are none, scornfully judging all of the competition (it is a fact that if you are female, more women will check you out than men in your lifetime, no contest). Forget about it all! Ignore references to “Wedding Colleges,” “Social Networking…Sabbath School Dating Services,” and DO NOT GO TO SINGLES CAMP. Do not. I would love to see my proposition that we the youth age in peace and couple in the right time with the right someone proven possible. Please.

The only regret I have about seeking to banish biologically/theologically driven, yet so chemically unstable patheticism would be the absence of a very real source of social entertainment for me. What will I laugh at and make fun of? I’m creative though and resourceful. I’ll survive. What worries me more are the chances of our survival if we continue at present—will the divorce rate climb or will we remain faithful, sufficiently solving the problem of global population by depressed copulation? Either alternative seems a sorry second to just being happy. Choose the dating diet—Eat, drink, and wait to marry, in a few years you’ll still be spry.