The weekends always feel strangely nostalgic to me. I don’t know why; there’s just something about the way the day ends, slowly and with a sinking feeling, like a cube of sugar being dropped into a cup of black coffee, that makes it feel like a dark, bittersweet time of the week.
I start thinking back to my childhood, mainly my father, and the good times I spent with him. My childhood was peppered with good memories of my father, and it half-killed me when he left me. I felt lost and abandoned. I’m completely whole now, but sometimes, on the weekends, when the sun is starting to set, I begin to feel a certain longing for oldtimes, for childhood, and magic, and pure moments.
As I type this, I’m listening to Taylor Swift’s 1989 album, specifically the song I Wish You Would. Out of all her albums, 1989 is my favourite; I find it nearly impossible to get sick of any of the songs on it, whereas with some of her older songs, I find it hard to play them on repeat.
I wish you would come back, wish I’d never hung up the phone like I did, I wish you knew that, I never forget you as long as I live. Those are some of the lyrics that are playing as I type this, sitting alone in my bedroom, on my laptop, dreaming of magical moonbeans and unicorns that prance.
It’s quiet. There’s the faint rumbling of a motorbike outside, the swoosh of cars. And now the song has changed, to a number called All You Had To Do Was Stay.
Nostalgia is a funny feeling. It’s an ache inside your chest. It almost feels like a watered-down version of heartbreak, although I haven’t experienced heartbreak myself—I suppose it’s a watered-down version of how I imagine heartbreak to be. You are full of longing for something you can’t describe, for something you once had but now don’t, for something you lost but don’t remember. It’s a Jack-in-the-Box of a feeling.
I almost want to turn back the hands of time. It seems only yesterday I was still in primary school, having fun with friends, basking in the glow of a father and mother, playing games with my sister, spending my days listening to Taylor Swift’s country songs and reading and writing my heart out. A lot of things have changed. Since I was a child, I thought I’d one day get published, and might have to reconcile myself to the fact that that might not happen. It’s sad. But there are good things happening, too. I’m growing up. I’m dating, I’ve got a job, I’ve got friends, a roof over my head and food in the fridge. Things are good.
Isn’t it funny, how songs can be linked to memories, to particular times of your life? I used to listen to this song called I Know Places by Taylor Swift a lot while I was doing a retail course, and had to travel by train to this place to study and go to lessons, and now, whenever I hear the song, I feel myself transported back to that depressing period of my life, where I was lost and didn’t know which path in the woods to take. I’m in a much better place, now. Depression has kept itself out of my way for about a month, ever since I started my job, I have a little money to spend on myself these days. Yes. Things are good. Nevertheless, nostalgia still exists, and it will always be there, lurking in the corners, not like monsters, or ghosts, not scary, just simply like lost toys left behind by their owners, gathering dust and loneliness.
One song that always puts me in a good mood is Welcome To New York by Taylor Swift. The song feels full of possibility to me. When we first dropped our bags on apartment floors, took our broken hearts, put them in a drawer. It conjures up images of going on holiday, to dazzling cities like New York, entering hotel rooms, giggling with friends, going out for lunch, taking pictures, a whirlwind of fun and joy, young people basking in their youth and the happiness life can bring, faraway from the sordid, the frightening, the dark and miserable. Taylor Swift is wholesome. Her songs are uplifting, and bright, even when they’re about sad things, like heartbreak and betrayal, and there’s something so charismatic about her music. That’s probably why she’s my favourite artist, and will always be.
I’m halfway through another book. It’s about this young woman who meets a faery-man, and the magical adventures they go on together, and the perils they meet. I think, after I finish it, instead of trying to send it to publishers, I’ll type it all up and put it on Wattpad and make it public for people to read. That way, you can finally read some of my longer works of fiction! It’s a story I’m quite proud of, if only for the concepts I managed to come up with, and I hope, when it’s all done, and posted online, that you like it. I’m still thinking of whether I should post another book of mine online; I think it’s not really suited to the Wattpad demographic, who are accustomed to stories about romance rather than children’s books. Let me know if there are any good sites to publish online books, and if there aren’t any, I might just end up publishing it on this blog.
That’s all from me for now. Looking forward to another week at work. I’ll see you in the next post.
I wrote a previous post, which I will link HERE where I wrote 12 Life Tips for INFPs for a Patron of mine on Patreon (you can find my Patreon at http://www.patreon.com/dreamerrambling) and today, after a while spent working at my new childcare job, and delving into the world of online dating, I have grown as a person and learned some new things along the way which might help some other INFPs, and decided to make a Part 2 of the same post, titled “6 More Life Tips For INFPs”. Online dating, you might say? Yes. In fact, tomorrow, I’m meeting someone in person who I met online, through a dating app. He reads my blog, and he’s a writer and INFP himself, too. I’ll probably write another post all about that—but, for the meantime, let’s get into this post.
1. Social anxiety is all in your head, and doesn’t exist.
For a while in highschool, I suffered from social anxiety. It came out of the blue, and I believe it was a result of childhood trauma, but, either way, I suddenly found myself feeling nervous about talking to people, or even passing by people on the street. I know many INFPs can suffer from this problem, so my advice is, give it some time, let yourself acclimatise to social situations, keep leaving the house and putting yourself out there, and, eventually, you’ll realise it was all in your head, all along, and that other people don’t judge you as much as you think they do. I’ve been free of social anxiety for a while now, and this tip really helped me to overcome it two years ago. Just be yourself, put yourself out there, and don’t think too much. Let the words flow out of your mouth when you talk to people. You’ll get there.
2. You have to actively find your Prince Charming or Princess—and hey, maybe that’s something that exists in your head, too.
INFPs can sometimes have a very idealistic view of what their future partner might be, when, in reality, humans are flawed, not magical beings ready to fix all your problems. What’s more, like the passive creatures we can sometimes be, occasionally we might even find ourselves “wishing on stars”, and hoping for someone to just magically waltz into our lives and whisk us away on a romantic adventure. Unfortunately, the chances of that happening are very low. As I’ve matured, I’ve come to realise you have to get out there and look for someone to fall in love with. For example, I’ve recently started talking to someone online, and I like him and he’s really nice. I would have never have met him and talked to him if I hadn’t actively opened up a dating app account, put up pictures on my profile, then spent the time liking the profiles of other members on the site. You might want to rethink how you view love and romance altogether if you are still just waiting for it to fall in your lap: go join a church, join a group at your university, join a dating site, anything—take your destiny into your own hands.
3. Living in your car isn’t an option, and capitalism exists for a reason.
Sometimes, INFPs can have issues with the whole “earning a living” concept. Actually, scrap that: we can positively lament over the injustice of having to earn a living, when all we really want to do is write books and read and sing and dance and daydream and philosophise all day long, even though none of those activities bring in a single cent of income most of the time. Once upon a time, I was so against the idea of earning a living, because I couldn’t fathom doing anything except the activities mentioned above, that I even debated, without much hope, the thought of living out of one’s car. Obviously it wasn’t a viable option, and the reasons are also obvious: having a home, a roof over one’s head, is one of the most important things there is about life. You need it. We need capitalism in order for society to function. Otherwise, people wouldn’t work, wouldn’t have routines and purpose to their lives, and no-one would get their needs met. Sometimes, we need to mature, and realize that we, even us INFPs, need to follow the rules of this world, and live according to its paradigms.
4. Work doesn’t always have to be fun.
There’s a reason us INFPs, especially when we are younger, like the idea of just living off of our art and our dreams, even if it doesn’t pay the bills: it’s because art, like writing, is often fun, and what’s more, we sometimes only do it when we want to do it, rather than disciplining ourselves to write when we do not want to. But what I have discovered is that, while work can be rewarding, and it can be fun and very enjoyable, it isn’t necessarily fun and enjoyable all the time. And that’s okay. That’s just the nature of work. If it wasn’t that way, and it was just inherently fun, then there wouldn’t be a reason for someone to pay you to do it, because people would want to do it for free in the first place.
5. Sometimes, dreams don’t come true, and as painful as it may be, you may have to accept that they never will.
It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but the truth is, no matter how many of us want to become publishers authors or famous artists, the chances of that happening are very low. For the past three years, I have been painstakingly working on books for children, only to be dealt rejection after rejection from publishers. While it is certainly possible I might get published in the future, in my heart, I know that it is very unlikely, especially since I’ve been rejected so many times. I know, just maybe, that my book isn’t good enough to be published, that I don’t have enough talent or ability to make it in the publishing industry. Since it’s a dream of mine that I have nursed since I was five years old, this is something that will take me years to recover from, and that’s alright. It’s okay. Part of growing up is realising that you don’t always get what you want, even if you try your absolute hardest. It’s all part of reconciling your ideals with reality, something us INFPs find difficult to do.
6. You are a beautiful person, and you should never forget that.
INFPs can sometimes suffer from low self-esteem. We’re a little different from most people, in that we’re quiet, and thoughtful, and brimming with words and creative ideas. It can be a little difficult for us to form friendships with the right people, and we often found ourselves feeling isolated amongst certain groups of individuals. But you should never forget that we are beautiful, and unique, and different, and special, even if we never achieve anything mind-blowingly amazing, or look like we just stepped off the catwalk, or have a scintillating personality. As long as you stay true to yourself, and who you are, then the path before you is laid true, and you can do no wrong.
What? Oh. Erm. Suuure. I have a boyfriend. His name is—is Tim. Tim…um. Tim Um. Yes. Strange last name, I suppose, but that shouldn’t be a deal breaker now, should it?
What does he do? Oh. He does lots of things. Yes. Lots. Erm. He works as a plumber. Yes. Likes to get into the guts of plumbing, he does, fix things up. You know what that’s like, when the urge comes. And he loves to go fishing on the weekends.
See, Tim and I, we’ve been dating for over a year now, only I never told you, because I was afraid—I mean, I am afraid, that he is a little on the shy side. Yes, you wouldn’t expect it, not from a great, big burly plumber, but he’s rather timid, really, which is why I like him, I suppose. We met at a fish shop. Yes. I was just standing in line, minding my own business, thinking about whether I should get tomato sauce with my chips, when suddenly, he came forward, and asked me if I had any change. And I told him I didn’t, of course, because I was so flustered and he was a stranger, but then he went on to say that he didn’t really need any change, he just needed an excuse to talk to the beautiful lady in front of him in line. Yes! It was love at first sight, of course, and terribly romantic.
As for our future, we’ve got it all laid out. We’re going to buy a small Victorian house somewhere in the southern suburbs of Australia, and we’re going to have two kids, one boy, one girl. His personality? Oh, he has a wonderful personality of course, absolutely perfect. He’s very mild-mannered, never shouts, is never aggressive, if you know what I mean, and he loves poetry, and he loves to draw and write, and dance. It really is quite perfect.
You know, he’s taking me on a date to Paris this year. Yep, Paris. Plumbers might do dirty work, but they earn quite enough to live by, and together, we’re going to see the Eiffel tower, enjoy the sights, drink hot chocolate in front of this little cafes, and buy baguettes in those paper bags and ride on bicycles with the baguettes in the baskets and nibble on cheese just like real French people. It will be absolutely marvellous. Janice and John. That’s what we’re going to name our kids. Yes. No, absolutely not, wouldn’t dream of it—they’ll get a wholesome education, the both of them, at a nice private school. Yes. Good-looking? My dear, good-looking doesn’t even cover it. He’s got dark hair, beautiful dark eyes, very strong, too, because of all the plumbing he does, and when he smiles, the edges of his eyes crinkle just so, which makes him suddenly look very shy and boyish. He’s simply marvellous and perfect, John. Oh! Silly me! I meant Tim. Yes. Tim is perfect. Little ol’ Timothy. My Timothy. All mine.
And I haven’t even told you about the gift he got me last summer. It was a seashell ring. It was absolutely gorgeous. I said to him, I said, “I don’t want anything flashy, you understand, all those sparkly rocks are just a big waste of money” so he ended up getting me a seashell ring! It’s a tiny little seashell, attached to a silver band, and absolutely gorgeous. I left it at home, so you can’t see it, but let me tell you, it was quite the thoughtful gift. As for our deep, long conversations together—why, they get deeper than you would believe. Since he is a poet—oh, well, poetry is his hobby, you see, not his actual job, he’s a plumber by day, poet by night—he thinks very deeply about things, and there’s so much he knows, so much wisdom and light and laughter and shiny, pearlescent—
When can you meet him?