Sometimes I'm amazed at how well my Myers-Briggs type fits, or-- I am a nerd, with a crush on plants
I think I'd forgotten about this journal until just a few days ago. I have DSL now, so the likelihood of me posting more regularly is significantly improved.
Last weekend was my turn in the month to work, so it was myself and a high school girl with whom I sometimes work--shelf-reading, shelf-reading, and cleaning books. All the while one of our junior high regulars, a boy who lives across the street--that is, when he's not living at the library playing internet games involving burly Viking-types going on Missions--occassionally tears himself away from his pillaging or somesuch to pipe up when he feels the need to add his insight into our conversation. A previous example of such sage advice being that if someone to throw a cheeseburger at you, you should take it "open it up and throw it back in their face." (Don't even ask me how we got on the subject of throwing cheeseburgers--that's an even longer story involving yet another regular who works the graveyard shift at the McDonald's drive-thru).
Our scene opens at the circulation desk--
HIGH SCHOOL GIRL: Sometimes I think it would be fun to just shelve the books by size.
ME: Actually, before the advent of the Dewey decimal system and librarians trained in cataloging, that is how books were shelved.
HIGH SCHOOL GIRL: (noncommitally) hmm
ME: Oh man, I love the classification system. ...Every once in awhile I actually get the urge to catalog my own library according to Library of Congress...
BOY (from the computer): You're a dork, dude!
ME: Well, uh, yeah.
I am a dork. But really, I prefer "nerd." Is it a sign of a true nerd that I quibble over the semantics?
I hadn't really thought of my Myers-Briggs type in quite awhile (is this a sign that I'm becoming less self-absorbed?). However, I've been starting seeds lately--a project that started casually enough with a single packet of basil and some containers lying around the basement and soon evolved into a trip to Home Depot to buy peat pots and seed starting mix, and 150 tiny containers of dirt dutifully labelled with markers made out of toothpicks. And yesterday I found myself smiling secretively--the way you smile when your crush passes by you in the street on his bike and waves, except that I haven't had a crush in probably half a year. I was thinking about the nasturtiums, dill, and purple basil I had yet to plant. And so, I recently remembered this quote I read quite awhile ago about INFPs, as it seemed rather apt:
When it comes to the mundane details of life maintenance, INFPs are typically completely unaware of such things. They might go for long periods without noticing a stain on the carpet, but carefully and meticulously brush a speck of dust off of their project booklet. [INFP]
Yes, I carefully consider my ratio of okra to cilantro, I fashion nameplates with Sharpie markers, adhesive labels and toothpicks; meanwhile my bedroom floor is riddled with clothes and variously-hoarded odds and ends desperately needing to be sorted and organized. Damn those "mundane details of life maintenance"--I think the latter is not much more than a conspiracy to needlessly complicate my life. Currently I am in search of a paycheck from February that I did not get the chance to deposit and cannot find. (Eeek.) Needless to say, I think I've got a lot of drudgery to look forward to this weekend.