#couldn't tell you how I look for instance; like I could describe myself; but can't tell you if it looks remotely good or ugly or what

[medicinemane]

Well, got that section finished up... still not sure I made the right call with the kind of lumpy deposits look, but the ravine was tall and narrow and it's hard to add depth both to long stretches and in confined areas so...

But we'll see, like I said I've kind of lost the ability to evaluate anything I do, it just is what it is

So long as it's better than default gen I guess that's good enough

[eye-in-hand]

I'm wondering is this is an autism thing: one of my biggest struggles irt art has always been posing and expression. Posing not as much as expression because if I have a reference and I know how a pose works I can draw it for the most part, specifically my issue with posing is whenever I want to come up with a scene to draw with OCs for example, I know what I want to convey, I know the emotions the characters are feeling in the scene, but I always get stuck at how to convey those feelings. What poses would work? How do people do things when they feel something? What is their body language?

Logically I know the answers. I can tell you someone widens their eyes when they're surprised or frowns when their sad. I can tell you that someone who's closed off typically will show it by crossing their arms or leaning away from the person, etc. I can tell you these things, I write these things all the time.

But when it comes to drawing for some reason I just can not? Like I could describe what I want the pose to be in vague terms but I can't like. IDK. Idk why drawing is different to writing it's so stupid lmfaoo

like the thought process will literally be "I want to draw the scene from the RP where character x is yelling at character b. Okay. So place them here and here, the bg looks like this." But then it just feels like I'm standing unposeable Barbies around or something. I can't imagine in my head what they're doing enough to draw it.

I've always been more of a word person. I can articulate myself better through writing than I can when speaking (by far, speaking I am a whole ass mess), I can remember words from my dreams fairly well (spoken or written), I can remember whole movie scripts. But I couldn't tell you what the character looked like when they said whatever line it is I repeated.

Expressions are just face poses, but they convey so much emotion, and I know they do. But I don't know how to put that onto my characters. Whenever I manage to put emotion in my faces it was entirely by accident I promise lmfao

IDK I just. IDK lmFAO and I'm just realizing now today that this is probably an autism thing. It's just really frustrating for someone who wants to draw things like comics, or visual story telling with poses and expressions. But most of my art centers around symbols and stuff, which are just "picture words". Or sometimes literal words.

IDK I don't know what to do with this either. I know practice is a thing, but I've been drawing people since I could pick up a pencil and I feel like I still have no grasp on how to convey emotions through a character. And when I do manage to in the rare instance, I just feel so clinical about it lmfao like I don't furrow their brows because it feels angry, I furrow their brows because that's what people have told me anger looks like.

[wildskip]

Currency Exchange / Illusion of having integrity

It's really a hot country.

This country does not welcome foreigners. Even the "Welcome" sign written at the airport seems like a lie. It's because of the weather. The endless heat. From morning until 7pm in the evening, the merciless beating sun seems to be trying to drive me out. The scorching sun rays are felt on the back of my neck, not covered by clothing. Even when walking in the shade to avoid the sunlight, I can't pick up the pace because of the sweat that pours out the moment I stop. I don't want to show that I'm at a loss dealing with this country's daily life.

To escape the heat, I went inside a shopping mall. It wasn't that I had something to do, but I also happened to have run out of this country's currency, so I intended to find a money exchange. The money exchange booth across from a Japanese ramen restaurant. Do money exchanges usually situate near restaurants? It was a trustworthy-looking money exchange with two or three European groups waiting. I clutched a 50,000 won Korean bill in my hand and waited. The exchange booth had a simple structure. What separated the inside from the outside was just a waist-high wall, above which was a glass barrier, and there were a few tiny holes punched through just big enough for clenched fists to pass through for transactions and conversation. The exchange booth had two operating teller windows, and inside was a scene of employees conversing with each other and scurrying about chaotically. For instance, if the teller at window A requested something from the teller at window B, they would hand items back and forth, crossing over the teller divide even while dealing with customers. While watching the group of European customers at the other window exchanging thick wads of cash, I wondered what they would spend all that money on when cards work just fine here.

Exchanging 50,000 Korean won into this country's currency comes out to about 170 ringgit. There would be one 100 ringgit bill, one 50 ringgit bill, a few 10 ringgit bills, and some coins. When my turn came, I pushed the 50,000 won bill through the tiny slot. I wonder where they frequently see Korean currency from. There must be so many Korean tourists already that it's nothing unfamiliar. But the employee's processing of the simple matter of exchanging just a few bills was noticeably slow. He repeatedly punched numbers into the calculator. He put a handful of local bills into the counting machine and rechecked. It was an amount that would obviously exceed 1 million won just by a quick glance. Why so much? He must have mistaken 50,000 won for 50,000 dollars or euros. My stomach churned. At that moment, I didn't know if the sweat dripping down was from the hot walk or from abruptly stopping. My breath caught in my throat. So this moment has come, as I knew it someday would.

When I was 20 years old, in that hazy era when I had nothing to show for myself, I tried looking back at myself to dig up and find some quality in which I was superior to others that I could proudly wave a flag for, probably as a result of absorbing too much TV, dramas and movies. But upon reflection, I really had nothing worth showing off. Even if I tried to describe myself with two Chinese characters, while some acquaintances might acknowledge them, others could shake their heads. Or I might feel embarrassed enough to want to reject my own description. For example, if I decided "I'm an honest person, a diligent person," and someone retorted "But you used to tell lies as simple jokes without batting an eye just for fun." Or if the memory of me choosing to take a nap last weekend instead of doing my tasks immediately came to mind, how could I claim diligence? Afraid that in that state, with my reddened face, I couldn't deny being branded a hypocrite, devaluing even the good I had intended to do and falling into depression – gripped by such anxieties, I shook my head and searched for something else. What I ended up finding as my value was integrity. (You could ask why I behaved that way, but for me at the time, this act was a way to objectively appreciate myself among countless individuals, and it was my own name tag for the personality that generation demanded, but looking back, it also seems like a determination to live upholding this value going forward.)

Integrity.

The integrity I conceived of at the time was nothing special – just not coveting things that weren't mine. To the level of finding a dropped wallet and returning it to the police station. Picking up and returning a 10,000 won bill an elderly woman dropped while trying to tap her transit card. Perhaps I had felt a sense of vigilance after watching some drama where prosecutors ended up in a catastrophic situation from constantly receiving all kinds of solicitations. But as a mere college student, if I just upheld those few principles of conduct, I could obtain the same integrity as the prosecutor protagonists in the dramas I watched, so it was like getting something for nothing.

From then on, for over 10 years, I lived as "a person of integrity." Meaning, I didn't pick up any money others had dropped. I wouldn't become a prosecutor who accepts bribes for immediate personal gain. Working as the video equipment manager at a local broadcasting station, I at least had a romantic mindset. Facing a deal worth just under 20 million won, when the company president suggested a drinking occasion and tried to secretly slip me a drone worth about 2 million won as surplus inventory – disliking spending time after work with someone I wasn't close with, and having no hobby interest in drones, I declined. But I never said that was the reason, steadfastly recounting this episode as solid proof to make myself appear a person of integrity.

But if I was handed that thick wad of bills through this slot, what would I do? Should I say in English, "The amount I should receive is 170 ringgit"? But my English isn't fluent enough for that. Would it be okay to just naturally accept it, since if I was overpaid, it wouldn't be because I deceived them but the employee's mistake? Mistakes like this must be common at currency exchanges, no? I'm just a foreigner after all. I don't know much about this country. This country didn't welcome me anyway. The weather was also too hot. The sound of the bill counter spinning sounded like it was ripping, and I felt the urge to urinate.

At that moment, the employee from the other window handed me a suitable amount of around 170 ringgit in bills. He must have double-checked the previous customer's transaction. I needlessly checked the Korean won amount on the monitor one more time and recounted the bills. If that wad of cash had been handed to me through that slot, how would I have acted? The delusion of integrity. What I exchanged that day was certainly not just Korean won and local currency. Something of mine was traded away along with these bills, which I stuffed into my wallet uncounted and returned to my accommodation.

[landscaping-my-life]

9/11/23 - Day 1.1 - May Fight Diaries

Why don't I have the words to describe how painful this is? Well, let's try this - let's try forgiving Nate first. Forgiveness, as far as I can tell, is a pretty established practice of human spirituality. So I will assume it will not turn me into a dormant. Yes, this was very painful. I felt alone, so alone. I just felt like I couldn't fight back. When he said "it shows immaturity and ungratefulness".

I guess its okay. I can give him grace, I can try. He's not perfect, no one is, and God never promised me he would be perfect. But I still am surprised... I didn't think I'd be this hurt. I didn't think he would be this violent. I guess that's why they call it "sinful". Am I really as sinful as that? It feels horrible to imagine. I just can't forgive this.

But I can remember its for me, not for him. But I guess me is the one who doesn't want to forgive. It doesn't solve anything if I just forgive... it feels like such a superficial thing to do when I imagine all those hurtful texts he sent. How can I possibly forgive? I don't want to become a dormant!

No, Stephanie - read your last post - you said you believed it was justified for you to feel you lost your worth and God stopped loving you, and you believed you couldn't speak. This is really painful, isnt it? Really really painful. This is an instance of "Father please forgive them for they know not what they do". He really didn't know he did this.

It isn't making it easier for me to forgive him right now. He still did it. He said those words.

I wish I could give myself the compassion right now for the pain I'm going through. I can't even bear to look at those texts. I guess I'm angry at myself for being this weak. I can't even stand up to Nate about this because I'm afraid of what he will say. Where did all my control go? How did I become so powerless?

What's the worst thing that can happen if I bring this up to him? It feels like anything would be better than just sitting here in pain. I guess what I'm really afraid of - is this whole thing leading me to realize we need to break up, and the pain I will feel from breaking up with him.

So perhaps its about doing what I need to do to get myself to the point I can talk to him about this. Maybe that even means reminding myself of the good moments we have had, and the love, so that if we do break up, it is not a failure.

I'm not sure what to do right now - give myself compassion first? Or strive to talk to him. I'm feeling tired, and like I'm being punished and mocked as this memory goes round and round in my head.

[funkymbtifiction]

Hi Charity! :)

It would be great if you could answer my question. Unfortunately, English is not my native language, so sorry for mistakes in advance.

It's a widely discussed question, but, unfortunately, I still don't really understand what is the correct answer and what is the logical explanation for it. In MBTI community, there is a belief that intuitives are deep, thoughtful, curious, imaginative and good at abstract and symbolic thinking and theoretical discussions, while sensors are boring, punctilious, narrow-minded cavemen-like beings who just run around, touch, smell and lick stuff and can't understand anything which isn't directly connected with physical reality (and aren't even interested in it).

Typically, the prejudice comes from ignorance about the types and over-glamorizing intuitives while refusing to look at their faults (along with being imaginative and creative, they are often delusional about what is possible, disconnected from physical reality, and struggle to perform basic sensory tasks, lol). Sensors are actually far more engaged with the physical world and therefore get further in life because they know either how to leap on an opportunity (high Se) or work through the system to transform it (high Si).

Intuitives don't always ground their theories; and senors don't always want to discuss abstract theoreticals endlessly without there being a way to make it relevant to the real world.

For instance, I read an article about Nietzsche's MBTI type, and the main argument for Ni was his usage of subjective symbols and archetypes. But... That's just incorrect. Ni is a way of perceiving information, it has nothing to do with personal "abstract" vision of the world.

Subjective symbols and archetypes is indeed Ni, yes. INJs do indeed form a "personal abstract vision" of the world or their desired end. That is how Ni functions. Other types do not understand this, because it's' so far removed from their own way of perceiving reality.

Do you mind telling me what do you think about it? If this point of view is false, why is it so widespread among people who are interested in MBTI? If it is true, how is the way we perceive information connected with the way we think? I mean, getting data and doing something with that data afterwards are two completely different processes, what is the connection between them?

Perception means absorbing information -- what you do with data relates to your judging functions (Te/Fe or Ti/Fe).

Personally, I seem to be an ISTJ (By the way, your answer for my previous question helped me to understand it, thank you for that!). At least I'm hundred percent sure that I'm a sensor, because I have been studying cognitive functions for quite a long time, and I don't relate to dominant or auxiliary Ni or Ne at all. However, I have no problems with that "abstract" stuff at all, for example, I just enjoy thinking and arguing about common laws which determine occurrences of our life, holistic vision of the world and humanity, hidden meanings of novels or other objects of art, meaning of life, philosophical theories invented by famous people or by myself or my friends, future outcomes of something, unrealistic scenarios, etc. Also, I'm not sure that I pay much attention to sensory details. Moreover, l've noticed that I often can't answer automatically and need some time to think when asked about sensory impressions (for instance, when I need to explain what something or someone looks/looked like, describe the taste or the texture of food or my way to some destination). I'm 19 years old, so I don't think that my inferior function is well-developed (futhermore, Ne is about perceiving, not about thinking).

My mother is an ISTJ 1w9 and would agree with most of what you said above, except she gets super impatient for extremely theoretical concepts and wastes none of her time on them (for example, she complains that C.S. Lewis couldn't just say what he means and make things easy to understand). ISTJs are the most grounded and realistic of all 16 types, so they have the least tolerance for "mumbo-jumbo." Doesn't mean they can't be intelligent or insightful.

I also don't think that all the intuitives have their head in the clouds and can't be interested in anything "sensory".

Intuitives do enjoy sensory things, yes, but our preferred focus is in the realm of ideas, possibilities, and speculating on the future.

According to PDB, there are plenty of intuitive sportsmen, architects, fashion designers.

PDB is one of the most inaccurate typing websites on the internet, because it allows everyone to vote, so 99% of sensors wind up typed NFJ 4w5 there. There's an extreme intuitive bias over there. :/

All in all, I believe that one's interests and things one likes to pay attention to are not defined by perceiving functions, as well as level of imagination or ability to reflect on "abstract" things. But is there any correlation in fact?

I would say your way of perceiving reality does in fact influence what you care about and pay attention to in a broad sense. Being an ENFP doesn't foster my love of costume dramas (unless it's the romanticism of low Si wanting a rose-colored view of a past I have never lived) but it does make me actively seek out and over-indulge in books based around theoretical systems like MBTI or the Enneagram or the 12 archetypes of the human soul.

[stanbillyhargrove]

Ghosts chp 11

Billy x Katrina

A/N: this is a multi chapter series that will contain smut, angst, fluff, substance abuse

February

Katrina's POV

Billy pulled the Camaro up to our rental place and let it idle as we sat there, staring at the old house. A small, gothic style house that sat sandwiched in a street of similar places.

"Is this it?" Steve asked from the back seat.

"Yep, purple door. Just like the site said."

Billy cut the engine and we all stepped out into the streets of Salem.

It's been a couple months since telling everyone that I can see ghosts and they've taken it surprisingly well. Steve can't get enough of it, he always wants to be touching me so he can talk to them too which made Billy jealous. He wanted to talk to them so badly. That and the fact that we'd had more than one instance of an unwanted guest during sex was what brought us here. To try to find someone to help me control my power. And in Steve's words 'worst case, we get a cool vacation.'

We took a while to settle into our rental before setting out into the town. We ducked into every shop we passed, searching for someone to help me. Unfortunately, nobody was able to. Nobody dealt that intimately with the dead. We met a few mediums, whose advice was to try meditation. Imagining a protective barrier around myself to keep the spirits at bay. But that wasn't good enough for me.

We stopped by a little apothecary for Steve to look around while Billy and I went across the street to a coffee shop to wait for him. We ended up sitting at a table for much longer than we expected when Steve came running into the shop.

"Guys! I met someone!"

I perked up and looked at him, "you did?"

"Her name's Riley, she works at the apothecary. She makes a lot of the stuff in there, soaps and stuff, and everything in there smells so good! I could spend all day in there," he rambled.

"Steve," Billy interrupted.

"Oh! And hair products too," he held up a paper bag, "she helped me pick out a bunch of stuff."

"Steve."

He shook his head, snapping out of his rambles, "yeah?"

"Is she able to help me?"

"Oh, I don't know. But we're going out for dinner tonight, I can ask her then."

"We lost him," I groaned, playfully knocking my head against Billy's shoulder.

"No, no, I promise! I won't forget."

--

Billy and I were curled up on the couch watching Evil Dead when we heard Steve come back from his date.

"In here!" I called, "movie night!"

Steve poked his head into the door a moment later, "oh good, you're decent. I want to introduce you guys to someone."

I cocked an eyebrow at him and sat up. He walked the rest of the way into the living room, leading a girl by the hand. She had long, wavy brown hair and a sweet face, was wearing a black tank top and tight blue jeans.

"Guys, this is Riley. Riley, this is Katrina and Billy."

Riley lifted a hand and waved a little, her cheeks a little pink, "nice to meet you."

"You too," I replied.

Billy nodded at her and smirked a little at Steve, who also started to blush.

"A-anyway..we're going upstairs, night guys!" He stammered before they fled upstairs.

I looked back at Billy, who had the biggest grin on his face and was biting back a laugh, "do you think he remembered to ask her?"

His composure slipped and he barked out a laugh as he pulled me to lean back against him, "I think that's the last thing on his mind right now."

I laughed a little, "Billy! They just met, he's more of a gentleman than that! We came here looking for someone though so he better ask."

"I'll bet you twenty bucks he is not that much of a gentleman and he totally forgets."

I smirked, "you're on."

--

Billy and I padded downstairs in the morning, following the sound of voices and found Steve and Riley sitting at the kitchen table. Half full mugs of coffee sat between them with their hands wrapped around them, fingers just barely brushing against each other.

Billy tapped his fingers against my back, a smug smirk on his face when I looked back at him.

"Morning you two," I smiled when they jolted to look up at us.

"Morning," they answered.

"So, I see you spent the night," Billy smirked.

Steve glared at him from across the table, his cheeks turning bright red.

"I hope you don't mind, Steve and I saw there was a Scream marathon on TV and we stayed up all night watching it."

"Don't mind at all," I answered, pouring myself a cup of coffee.

There was a moment of silence before Riley downed the last of her drink and stood up, "anyway, I should be going. Have to go home and get ready for work. It really was nice to meet you."

Steve stood and followed her to the door, returning a minute later with a huge smile on his face.

He stopped when he saw mine and Billy's smirks, "what?"

Billy reached forward and clapped him on the shoulder, "nice one, buddy! Finally got a girl in bed, I was starting to think after Nancy-"

"Oh my god!" Steve interrupted, "first of all, you know I've slept with people since her and second, we didn't sleep together. Not that it's any of your business."

I elbowed Billy's side and laughed, "pay up, loser!"

Billy groaned, tipping his head back, "Steve...you disappoint me."

"Wait, you guys bet on me getting laid? Rude!"

"Doesn't matter," I smirked, "is she able to help me?"

"I don't think I should tell you now," he pouted.

Billy snorted, "he forgot."

"I did not, actually. She thinks her and her sisters can help, she's gunna text me a time to meet them."

--

We met Riley and her sisters the next evening at the coffee shop across from the apothecary Riley worked at. Audrey, Brook and Riley. Triplets.

Riley was the youngest. She described herself as a green witch, using what she grows to create products for the apothecary and specializing in love and protection charms.

Brooke was the middle child. She had grey hair cropped above her shoulders and wore a ton of jewelry. Bracelets and rings adorned her hands, clicking and jangling when she moved. She worked at one of the psychic shops doing all sorts of readings. Tarot, runes, tea leaves, palms, you name it, Brook can read it.

Audrey was the oldest and had bright red hair shaved on one side and a lot of tattoos. She was a tattoo artist by day but her specialty was talking to spirits. A different type of medium, could summon all sorts of spirits to talk to.

Together, they wanted to try to help me.

"Alright, the plan is set!" Riley piped up, "we'll work with Katrina in the evenings and you guys use the rest of your time as vacation. Now, I promised to show Steve around and get some ice cream. So, we'll see you later," she explained as she got up and lead Steve out of the coffee shop.

-- Thursday Night

"I found something interesting last night."

I looked past the stack of books covering their kitchen table at Brook and cocked an eyebrow at her, "how interesting?"

"Very. I found a spell that could let ghosts into you. Rather than you having to repeat what they say, they could say it themselves."

I hummed, thinking about Billy, how jealous he was that he couldn't talk to Olivia directly. How quiet him and Max got if Susan or Olivia were talking to me. How they barely hid their anger behind clenched jaws when Steve would grab me so he could talk to whoever was around.

"I want to try it."

"It could be dangerous," Audrey warned.

"How dangerous?"

"Like, something bad could come through. Take over your body and not give it back."

"Oh," I mumbled.

"Just something to think about," Brook explained, "but we think you're powerful enough to try and with the three of us doing the spell, the chances are low."

"But still there," Audrey added, her eyes steely as she stared at me.

"I want to do it."

-- Friday Night

We'd left our rental this morning to spend the weekend at Audrey, Brook and Riley's house. Safer that way, they said, easier to make sure nothing goes wrong. I hadn't told the boys about our plan to try this spell, I just told them the triplets wanted us to stay with them.

So when they found out our plan for tonight, they weren't exactly on board.

"You want to what?" Billy asked.

"It's a spell, I'd be like a human ouija board. They'd be able to talk through me. Susan and Olivia could talk through me. You could actually talk to them."

He pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan, "and if something goes wrong?"

"The chance of anything bad happening is low," Brook explained.

"We're not going to throw her to the wolves," Audrey chided, "Riley and Brook have set up every kind of protection we can think of and Brook and I have the Latin down perfectly."

"No," Steve piped up, "no way. I'm drawing a line in the fucking sand here. Do not say anything in Latin. Haven't any of you seen a horror movie? Latin is always bad."

Riley laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, "Steve, it's just a language. Audrey and Brook know the language, they know what they're doing. Everything will be fine."

He clenched his jaw shut and looked back at me, one final attempt to stop this.

I looked from him to Billy, who was equally tense, "Billy, I want to do this. Everything's gunna be fine."

@charmed-asylum @champagnesugamama