Before I begin, I would like to give a shout-out to Louis, for donating to my Patreon page. Thank you very much! Please a topic you’d like me to blog about, Louis, if you want to, to firstname.lastname@example.org. And for those of you who want to, you can donate at my Patreon page http://www.patreon.com/dreamerrambling.
Now, let’s get started with today’s blog post. What has been happening? I’ll tell you what. A big, fat nothing. Isn’t marvellous, when nothing particularly remarkable or special happens in your life? I mean, that’s just what I wished for, ever since I was a little kid, for nothing to happen. In fact, I’m sure I remember wishing for that to happen when I was five years old—I’m almost certain for nothing to happen has been lifelong goal, and now, guess what, I have finally achieved it.
Sarcasm aside, I spent a good hour or so once I got home today, after visiting a newsletter group and my job agency, trying to figure out if I would make a good medical transcriptionist. And the answer, my friends, is a resounding no. While I do have a typing speed of 65 words a minute if I concentrate especially hard, if I want to write accurately and correctly, my typing speed is much less than that. What is more, whenever I try to listen to audio recordings of people’s voices, like that of a doctor’s, I can never quite make out a couple of words, which makes writing the transcription nearly impossible. So, no to transcription, my friends. Another day, another job ticked off the list.
As for childcare, well, I signed up for a traineeship, but I don’t think I’m going to get it. On the medical form part of it, I excluded mentioning any mental illness, for fear I would be discriminated against, but, on second thoughts, I wonder if that was a bad idea, because both of my references, a TAFE teacher and my job agency coordinator, know about my mental illness. Either way, it’s one way to pass the time, going to interviews for jobs I have no interest in, isn’t it? This is exactly what I mean by nothing has been particularly happening. Job interviews aren’t interesting enough to mention in a blog post, are they?
Well, let’s just say, I get nervous during job interviews (okay, maybe job interviews are worth mentioning). Extremely nervous. Perhaps not nervous enough to be classified as having some kind of anxiety disorder, but, well, I get pretty frazzled: my hands get sweaty, my heart starts to pound, my mind works at a hundred miles a minute, trying to predict interview questions beforehand, even though that technique never works because they usually go flying out of my head the moment I step inside the interview building. As an INFP, while I believe job interviews are important for life, I don’t think they’re something I’ll ever get used to. In fact, they are something I dread, with the kind of chest-clutching panic most people reserve for speeches and spiders. I would nearly rather give a speech, to a crowd of people, than have a job interview. Nearly.
Lately, I’ve been reading a lot of books my Sophie Kinsella. She’s this marvellously funny author, who writes irreverent, beautiful material on marriage and divorce and being a “shopaholic”; her work is fantastic, and I genuinely recommend you check her work out. Her book, Confessions of A Shopaholic, was even turned into a major Hollywood blockbuster movie. Okay, I guess you can tell I’m definitely running out of things to say, if I’m even mentioning what kind of books I’m reading at the moment.
Like I said, nothing in particular has been happening lately. Not particularly happy, but not particularly depressed, either. Everything seems to be going along in a straight line, a very straight, single line. I don’t like it. In fact, now that we’re on the subject of things INFPs don’t like, I would just like to point out that I am of the adamant belief that INFPs, if we’re being honest here, especially if they have anxiety and are daydreaming, soft, sweet little creatures, aren’t very suited to the workforce at all. I don’t like the idea of working in a stressful job, and every job, at the end of the day, has its own measure of stress. I think it’s because INFPs react so badly to stress in the first place. I mean, we’re not exactly Zen about it, are we? On the inside, we panic as though we are dying, and try to hold it all in, only to burst into tears at the end of the day. There isn’t a single job out there that doesn’t feel as though it is made for grown-ups—that is, other people—rather than INFPs. We’re not mature, in the sense that you need to have this sort of official, self-comforting personality to operate in society, and we don’t have any of the skills that are required for most jobs, such as high intellect or great socialising abilities. No. Instead, all we have is a penchant for daydreaming, a brain that is good for daydreaming, and usually an ability to turn these daydreams into works of art. Pretty practical and useful, I should say.
You know what I think INFP are suited for? Being children. As a child, all you do is play, all day long, by amusing yourself and finding ways to occupy your own time, whether this is through watching films or movies, imaginary play, reading or writing, or singing. Playing the piano. Going for walks. We’re suited to being children, and staying children, not adults. We can’t go to work, dressed up in a suit, and talk important business-talk—that’s just not us! Nothing about us is suited to the modern workforce. And so far, the only solution to this problem is to either somehow make money off your art, or be on government benefits to survive.
Am I being dramatic? You tell me. Maybe this only applies to myself, instead of all INFPs. Anyway; I wish you a wonderful day, and I hope your life is filled with starlight and late nights spent breathing in the spices of the wilderness. Or something like that. Cheers.