Hopeless Dreamer

I finished a 500-and-some-odd page book in two and a half weeks of winter break, and I'm here to write a review. The book is "The Paying Guests" by Sarah Waters.

Ahoy, matie. There be spoilers below.

"The Paying Guests" is really about the evolution of a relationship -- a lesbian relationship set in London in the 1920's. Frances Wray and her aging mother used to be very wealthy, but have fallen on hard times and have to take in boarders. Their boarders turn out to be a handsome young couple who on the outside seem to have the perfect life.

But looks can be deceiving. Both sides are hiding things. Frances's father squandered the family fortune, her brothers died in World War I, and she's had brushes with the law in the past at pacifist and feminist protest rallies and has had to turn away from a previous lesbian relationship to take care of her mother. Meanwhile, the young couple, the Barbers, have a crumbling marriage based on lies, adultery, and lost babies. (After miscarrying the first time, Mrs Barber actually gets an illegal abortion at two different points because she doesn't want her husband's baby, and one of the abortions is described in rather brutal terms.) Neither Miss Frances Wray nor Mrs Lilian Barber seem to have a happy life.

But they find happiness in each other. They begin a secret relationship, which is evolved slowly, and rather than this being idealized and romanticized, it's quickly shown that this falls apart. First, it's made quite explicit that carrying on any sort of homosexual relationship is insanely hard in this time period. But there's more. Mr Leonard Barber finds out about his wife's adultery, and -- quite hypocritically, since he's committed adultery himself -- he tries to strangle Frances. Lilian responds by killing him from behind. The ensuing scandal as they try to cover up the truth of the death from the police nearly tears the two apart as they begin criticizing and second-guessing each other's motives, the strain and stress of their crime weighing on each of them. (One interesting point: Lilian claims the death was accidental and she just wanted to hurt her husband, but she also got a great deal of money and newfound freedom out of his death, so Frances isn't sure whether or not to believe her. Since it's all from Frances's point of view, we never really know what to think of Lilian either. This is never quite resolved. Lilian's motives remain mysterious, perhaps even to herself.)

A few thoughts on the book:

You can't help but dislike Frances and Lilian for the last third of the book. You don't feel like you're on their side anymore. A young boy is about to be convicted for their covered-up crime, but they're going to wait until he's committed to the gallows before admitting their guilt. When he's set free by the court, they never admit what they did at all. It's a triumph for the characters -- they get to be together and at least somewhat patch up their relationship at the end -- but it's also a moral failure, and the characters seem very aware of that. Basically, they get away with at least involuntary manslaughter in order to be together. That the death was in self-defense is only part of the puzzle.

I didn't really like Lilian and Frances's relationship -- until the very end. When after it all, they have that quiet moment together when they sit in alcove on the bridge and watch the passersby, close together, and a completely silent understanding passes between them. Paradoxically, even though you've stopped liking the characters, you like the relationship. It carries a heaviness and subtext that the previous, somewhat childish relationship lacked. I liked the relationship better that way -- I'm not sure what that says about me.

The pacing was a bit odd. It was slow, of course, I've said that, but for most of the book it worked. For that last third, though... it just dragged on and on and on. I'm not sure if that was intentional, to get us into the characters' trapped mindset, or if it's just a failure on the part of the author. But either way, that last section involving the murder trial and investigation centered on the young boy was torturous and agonizing in its slowness.

Also, shoutout to the deliciously complex relationship Frances has with her mother. I really liked that part. Mrs Wray in herself is a bit boring, your typical friendly and gullible little old lady used to being wealthy and Churchgoing and doing charities, but put her together with her newfound lack of money and her rebellious yet responsible and duty-bound daughter Frances... oh, and interesting things happen.

Overall, it was a good book, as you can see by the fact that I read it in less than three weeks. I would recommend it to others.

Dear Teenage Self,

I’m not quite sure how to begin. There’s so much I want to tell you; so much has changed. Most of it for the better.

First, I know being a teenager is hard. It seems like people are always trying to under-rate the problems of being a teenager. But I remember: being a teenager is insanely difficult. Just know that things will get better, if you give them time.

I know you think you’re ugly. I know those bullying girls in middle school make you feel like you’re ugly. And I remember what you look like in middle school: long frizzy hair, braces, snobbish little gold-rimmed cat’s-eye glasses, tomboyish clothes. I remember that you cried the first time you heard “I’m Not That Girl” from Wicked. You pretended you were smarter and more arrogant than everybody else to hide the truth -- that you never felt like you fit in, that you doubted you’d ever find a boyfriend or fall in love.

Well, guess what? All those bullying girls in middle school? They’ll lose interest in you in high school. Your braces will come off. One day you’ll just decide to cut off all your hair, and it will feel incredibly liberating. You’ll get some new square plastic black-framed glasses. You’ll learn to make your tomboyish look work for you, with band T shirts and checkered open sweaters and long wool coats and skintight jeans.

And guess what else? Guys will call you pretty. So will girls. You’ll be asked out on dates. You’ll make new friends. College will free you from the confines of teenage hierarchy -- yes, you have to wait till college, and it will frustrate you because it seems like everyone else has it all figured out in high school. (They don’t. Trust me.) In fact, you’ll go to prom stag with a bunch of your girlfriends instead of with some immature teenage boy, and you’ll have the time of your life. You’ll rent a white limo and put on a lavender ball gown, and you’ll giggle and silly dance on top of a ship overlooking the sea sparkling in the night. And then, eventually, a year or two later in college, you’ll have the courage to ask somebody out and romance will happen for you.

But you’ll also learn not to let your beauty define you. I know you can’t even conceive of this right now, but you’ll get into a relationship, realize this guy’s not right for you, and you’ll have the courage to tell him “no.” He will validate this idea of the beauty you never thought you had, but he will not be the right person for you, and you will realize that it is okay. It is okay for him not to be the right person for you. You don’t owe anyone anything just because they called you pretty.

And it is okay not to have a boyfriend. Especially in high school. Ya got time, girl! Go easy on yourself!

Also know this: you still haven’t completely fallen in love. I think you’re probably one of those people who falls in love really intensely, but only once or twice a lifetime. And you’ve realized that’s okay too. You’ve kissed boys, held hands with them, even made out with them, but you have never given your virginity away to a guy who hasn’t earned it. And your inexperience? That doesn’t bother you as much as it used to. In fact, you’re a little proud of it. You go slow, and that’s okay -- your relationship experiences will be more rewarding that way. It’s okay to wait until the time is right.

You will try to force it. There will be a point in college when you try to force relationships that aren’t there, out of some misguided idea that you’re supposed to. And guess what? You’ll get over that, too. It’s a phase. You’ll grow out of it.

Don’t get me wrong. You’re not always the paragon of self confidence or anything. You still have your self conscious moments, but you’ve learned that those are okay. Progress can be imperfect and still be progress.

I know you have a lot of celebrity and book crushes right now. You’ll grow out of those, too. Don’t get me wrong, admiring sexy guys is awesome and so are idle daydreams, but the intense crushes on people you’ve never met? I’ve found those usually fade as you get older as well.

I also remember that those bullying girls used to call you a freak. Behind your back, which is worse. Even now, you still haven’t forgotten that girl who cheerfully told you, “I know everyone says you’re a freak, but I think you’re really nice! Oh, wait. You did know people call you a freak, right?”

You hadn’t.

Yeah. Ow.

That one still hurts a little.

But overall, you’ve come far. Time heals most wounds, and all those times you were socially humiliated in middle school? Those times don’t seem so important anymore. You can look back now and see those bullies for exactly who they really were: immature airheads. You can remember the memory, and be exasperated by it, and not feel pain.

And you know what? You ARE a freak. And you should be damn proud of that! The freaks are the best! They’re the originals, the daring ones, the ones who will change the whole fuckin’ world! Dare to be different! Live it up! Don’t let those assholes weigh you down!

And don’t give up on your childhood dreams. Remember when you wanted to be a novelist, a poet, a musician, an actress, but everyone told you that would be too hard and so you gave up? Don’t give up! You’ll get to a place where you’ll feel brave enough to start dreaming those things again.

You’ll also get better at talking in front of people. You don’t just babble incoherently and shake like a leaf in a high wind when you get up in front of people anymore. You’ve learned to deal with crowds, parties, and yes, school presentations -- at least to a certain extent. They can even be kind of fun!

Don’t start drinking. Stick to your principles and instincts and don’t get caught up in that addictive cycle. It may separate you from your peers now, but you’ll be so grateful for it later. For the ability to have an occasional beer or glass of wine without feeling the need to get drunk.

Yes, you WILL find jobs. You'll volunteer at the local library for a year in your senior of high school, edit someone's book for publication for a fee, and you'll have a really cool virtual internship doing business writing for an environmental company. (Your major right now is Creative Writing, with a minor in Marketing -- this may surprise you because I know you were thinking Psychology. But really, budding young writer, is it such a surprise?)

Also, you know that girl you’re best friends with? The daring, original one who loves goth stuff and who you walk home with every afternoon so she can show you her anime collection? The one you really admire and envy for her sheer comfort in being different? The one who takes you to the cool rock concerts? The one you wear bandanas with because you want so badly to be her? Yeah, you’re not really friends with her anymore. Not because you had a big falling-out or anything, but just because you both went off to different colleges and she turned out not to be the kind of friend who wanted to keep in contact with people she didn’t see every day -- even though you DID turn out to be that kind of friend.

I’m not going to lie to you and say that won’t hurt. It will. It’ll hurt like hell. It’ll feel like a betrayal. But eventually, you’ll come to the realization of this: that girl you admired and envied? You ARE that girl now. You’re comfortable being yourself, and being different.

And maybe you’re not different in the same way she is. Maybe you don’t wear dark eye makeup and dye your hair twenty different colors. But that doesn’t make you any less special and unique. Guess what? She’ll admit to you one day that SHE always really admired YOU -- for your dedication to your creative endeavors, especially to your writing, a dedication and creativity she’s found she can’t quite match.

Another compliment you’ll get, from a completely different girl, at the end of high school? That you’re “mysterious” but “passionate about your music.” And here was you always thinking people don’t talk to you because you’re a dorky loser. They may actually have been intimidated by you!

Speaking of that girl you’re friends with, you actually did want to go to the same college she did. She got in. You didn’t. And guess what? She was fucking miserable there. You cried when you didn’t get in, and she didn’t even like the goddamn place. So you moved far away, to a college in a different state right in the downtown area of a big city. You explored different kinds of cuisine. You tried online dating. You got interested in politics. You became addicted to coffee. You found out that snotty private school kids can be cold, bitchy, judgmental, and mean.

What I’m saying is -- first, you’ll get into college. Don’t worry about that. But second, the college you first went to? That wasn’t even your final destination. You ended up transferring to a totally different college, a public one in a small, rural town, and meeting some absolutely incredible people there. You’ll move out on your own, share an apartment with your college-age sister. The two of you will become incredibly close. You will successfully become independent.

Somewhere in between the first college and the second, you’ll be diagnosed with bipolar disorder. That’s right, all your online research proved you right. And I know that right now you’re trying to convince other people that how you’re feeling is an illness, and they’re grownups so they’re trying to tell you it’s really just because you’re not doing THAT and THIS and THAT OTHER THING.

So I just wanted to validate you. You were right. And finally getting that diagnosis and starting on the path to recovery? It’ll feel like a huge relief.

That brings me to my central point. I know you’re feeling suicidal. I know your parents are angry with you because you withdraw and hide in your computer so much, but you’re just trying to get good grades in class (you feel a lot of pressure there) and ignore the feelings welling up inside you. And I’m not going to sugarcoat it for you -- it’ll get worse before it gets better. There are times when you’ll sob and scream. There are times when you’ll just want to fucking die. There are times when you’ll feel broken. You will lose people. You will be bullied and abused. You will act fucking insane. Horrible things will happen to you.

But I’ll let you in on a little secret: It. Gets. Better.

You will go see a psychiatrist and a therapist. You will find a medication regimen that works for you, and learn self management techniques to keep bad thoughts from controlling your life. You will also start being healthy -- going out walking regularly, eating more frequently and healthier, sleeping more (but not too much), and you’ll travel and find tons of new hobbies! (You’ll even feel brave enough to take night classes in swing dancing downtown above a really sketchy bar.) These might all sound cheesy in isolation, but put them together and you’ve got a great recovery strategy.

Recovering from depression and suicidal thoughts is the most incredible feeling on the planet. All of a sudden, you’re grateful for everything -- you’re so much wiser, and you take a whole new lease on life. Life is an incredible journey, and you’ll want every part of it.

And the realization will come to you, over and over and over again: That you made it. You survived. You’re a survivor. And that realization never stops coming. It’s the gift that never stops giving. You will feel that triumph again, and again, and again. Every time you learn something, every time something good happens to you or you get reflective, you will feel that triumph again.

Like today.

So congratulations, kid. You’ve hit your twenties. You made it.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

So I decided to see the guy I'm dating (kendo/Cowboy Bebop Dude) at least one last time before he left to see his family for Christmas Break.

I had it all settled. I put a time aside for him in between all my finals studying. He came over to my place, I gave him his Christmas present, I sat him down in an armchair before the TV with a mug of warm apple cider, and I let him pick any movie out of all the movies I owned for us to watch. I made plenty of commentary throughout the movie, though always in between important scenes, and I made sure there were lots of opinions so he could jump into the conversation and offer his own thoughts.

I had it all perfect.

Three things:

1) When I went to Google search something about the movie, he looked at my computer screen and commented on it. Which is creepy.

2) He moved a remote from the arm of my chair so he could leave his arm there, very suggestively and deliberately.

3) At the end of the date, he asked if there was a specific time frame for when we could be physically intimate again.

What the hell was he expecting me to say? "Yes, in three months, two days, and eleven hours I will feel comfortable with you and trust you." And you know what? I'll NEVER feel comfortable with him and trust him if he keeps pushing this!

AARRGGHH!

I went on a date today!

Not with the guy I mentioned in a previous post -- the one from American Lit class who seemed kind of like he was flirting with me? Yeah, it wasn't with him. It turns out he:

(A) Has a girlfriend

and

(B) Is a bit of an asshole, so I don't really envy her

No, this guy I met through feminist club. He's sweet, kind, and funny, with glasses and a long coat. He studied kendo (Japanese sword fighting) for several years. He studies business and environmental science. He has a learning disability but still manages to get As, and is currently interning as a Study Abroad Counselor after having spent some time himself in Thailand. He asked me out, and he also paid for our first date -- though politically liberal, he's pretty socially conservative. His Dad was a Mormon and his Mom was a Catholic.

We just went to a cafe downtown and had a casual coffee/lunch together. We wore fancy jackets and tried to look nice, but we also both just wore jeans. It was the perfect blend of "nice" and "casual."

We talked anime, because it turns out we're both really into that. (He shall henceforth be known as Cowboy Bebop Dude.) We also talked politics, religion, and family and life experiences. It was a really nicely intellectual and deep conversation. We even made future plans: to watch Cowboy Bebop together (I've never seen the whole thing) and to take swing dancing lessons in 2016.

We went to a bookshop afterward, and then we went back to his apartment briefly. It's a really nice apartment right in the middle of downtown. His roommate is a funny guy who drinks a lot and talks to his plants. We got helmets from his apartment and then he drove me home on his scooter/motorbike! I was nervous getting on, but it was so much fun!

We hugged and kissed briefly at my door, and then I went to go back inside. If I were a less awkward person, this would be the moment when I threw him a sly smile over my shoulder and walked smoothly in the door. As it is, it took me a full minute to find my keys and another two minutes to force my way in through the door. He thought it was kind of funny. He applauded when I finally managed to get in.

Just me being my usual, awkward self.

I called my Mom and dished with her over the phone after the date was all over. I also made sure to emphasize to said boy that I had a great time, we should do this again, and he should text me. I even texted him to let him know I had a good time.

So now soon I guess I'll know one way or the other if he was really into me. But either way, it was just nice -- to meet someone through normal social avenues (instead of online) and have a sweet, casual date with him.

I am fascinated by the different forms relationships can take.

For example, you can be in love with someone and not want to consider them your exclusive boyfriend or girlfriend. You can like someone and think they're attractive without being in love with them. You can be in love with someone, or love someone, and not be attracted to them. Well, similarly, you can go on a date with someone and not be thinking about sex.

In Japan, they have these things called host clubs. In a host club, you pay someone to go on a date with you, essentially. But they're not prostitutes. There is no sex at the end. You just pay to be with an attractive person who's friendly to you and has interesting conversation for an hour. Geisha operate under the same principle, which is why there are so many things historically wrong with Arthur Golden's admitted amazing book Memoirs of a Geisha. (He adds in the sex and makes them high-class prostitutes. I'm an American and sometimes I hate Americans.)

I find the host club, the geisha, to be so fascinating as a concept, because it's something we don't really have in the United States. In the US, sex has to be involved. You have to kiss on the first date and be fucking by a few dates in. Or else there's really no point to the dating. There is even doubt as to whether a man and a woman can be friends without wanting to fuck each other. We never pay for dates, either. We pay for SEX and call that paying for dates.

And I just find that so sad, because it allows for such a narrow range of human experience. I've been on plenty of perfectly nice dates with no touching involved, dates full of laughter and conversation, but no touching, simply because neither party felt like going there. But for so long, I was caught up in this delusion that the only good dates were the ones with touching involved. Friends would ask "if he'd kissed me goodnight", and I would feel there was something wrong with me because he hadn't. And guess what? In a lot of those instances, I actually got second dates.

We just didn't feel like touching, that's all. That didn't mean it wasn't a date.

And I know the old argument, that that's just "hanging out", and you know what? It's not. Because on a date, you dress nice and go to a nice place and make a real effort to get to know each other, and that's just so refreshing. And all those things are missing from "just hanging out."

Dates can be with friends. You don't have to want to fuck someone to go on a date with them.

Right now, I'm writing a story, and in it there's a teenage girl. She goes on a "date" with her teacher, and another "date" with a little brother figure. There's no physical attraction involved. No innuendo. Nothing. They're just nice and go out somewhere and treat each other well.

And I think I feel compelled to write that because that acknowledgement of the breadth and depth of human experience and relationship experience is just so sadly absent from our current, modern American society. My first relationship was with a boy I wasn't physically attracted to. Did I miss the sex? Yeah. But guess what? I enjoyed the relationship anyway.

Read that again: I enjoyed the relationship anyway. He was a great friend. And because we went on "dates", I got to know that friend better than any of my others.

I am not a very sexual person. Sex has its place, and it's enjoyable -- I'm not asexual, I've felt attraction for people -- but I'm not really a very sexual person essentially. And I just feel overwhelmed by the sheer amount of uncomfortable sex in American society. What's wrong with a nice conversation, a well meant gesture, a gift or a nice dinner? Why does there always have to be something extra attached at the end?

"What shall I do? My man compares me

To a wild red flower.

When I have withered in his hands,

He will leave me."

- Aztec Native American poem

I went out with my family today. It was the last time I was going to see certain extended relatives -- the aunt I went to the lavender fields with and my Papa -- before it was time for me to move away.

We drove down in heavy traffic to the seaport to walk around there for a while. There were homeless in the streets, and street artists set up by the water. Me and my sister got some cookies at the home-made cookie shack.

We went out to dinner at a seafood grill with a seaside view. There were beautiful paintings all along the walls. It was a really expensive joint. I ate something I didn't even know how to pronounce, picked all the shrimp and scallops out of it, and then I got to sample from the dessert tray.

There was a really hot waiter there serving us. He kept calling me "miss", which was pretty cool. He was kinda into me and my sister. He seemed to be checking us out, and later my Mom said he was "friendlier than he needed to be." He kept talking directly at us and smiling and complimenting us. It felt nice. It's not like he was the first guy ever to notice me or anything -- a friend of my friend's at Comic Con once gets that honor -- but it was nice. Sometimes it's just nice to be noticed.

Papa paid over two hundred dollars to take us there. My God.

My aunt was kind of a dork, but that's as usual. She kept asking me if I was going to see any of my "past flings" before I left for a different state. I think my aunt overestimates my love life. She was really popular in high school -- sometimes I think she imprints herself over onto us.

It was dark by the time we left, but there were lanterns and fairy lights lit up along the water. We went shopping, and got some Nightmare Before Christmas mugs.

I've got a confession: I hate perfect people.

They're simpering. They're annoying. They make me want to smack someone and strangle people. I hate people with perfect photoshopped bodies and perfect straightened hair and way too much makeup -- I think they're terrifying and hideous. I find people who never make mistakes and never fuck up to be utterly boring. And worse than that -- they're typically hypocritical and judgmental.

I have another confession: I'm not perfect.

I'm not. I'm an antisocial, too-smart-for-my-own-good, eccentric, don't-touch-me FREAK. I don't like people but I do like people but I really only like people in abstract. I'm horrible at expressing my feelings. I don't really like hugs. I'm not very playful. My boobs are too small. I think I'm smarter than everybody else. I'm stubborn and prone to getting obsessive over things that I want. I get random anxiety attacks that make me unable to interact with the normal human population. I hate parties and public speaking. My sense of humor is flat, dry, and sarcastic.

I'm not perfect.

Now here's something revolutionary: I don't want to be.

I like my hair messy! I like that I only ever wear jeans! I like that there's cat and dog hair all over my clothes! I like my tiny boobs and my obsessive-anxious-passive-aggressive-antisocial personality!

Imperfection is human. It's natural. And more than that -- we can learn to love it. Mistakes make for great stories and help us learn to laugh at ourselves! Screwups can sometimes end up being the most precious moments of our lives!

I spent so long being told by bullies growing up that there was something wrong with being imperfect. I was supposed to want to fuck boys and go to parties every weekend and look like this and dress like that! And I wasn't! The horror!

I used to be ashamed of myself for not fitting into the social norm. But you know what? I've grown up. And now it's time for me to celebrate it. I propose a celebration of imperfection.

So, on that note, here are my three favorite songs about imperfection:

1."Girl Next Door" by Saving Jane

It's not about the prom queen. It's not about the celebrity. It's not about the princess. It's about the girl next door to the celebrity/princess/prom queen that no one ever notices. It's about her and how much she feels ignored and how much she HATES the seemingly perfect girl next door to her, who always gets the boys and always looks pretty and never acts like a bitch. This is basically my song.

Favorite lyrics:

"Maybe I'll admit it:

I'm a little bitter.

Everybody loves her,

BUT I JUST WANT TO HIT HER!

She is the prom queen,

I'm in the marching band,

She is a cheerleader,

I'm sitting in the stands,

I get a little bit,

She gets a little more!

She's Miss America, yeah,

She's Miss America, and I'm just the girl next door."

2."Little Moments" by Brad Paisley

It's about all the mistakes his wife makes throughout a typical day, how funny he finds all of them, and how those moments are when he truly realizes how much he loves her. Need I say more?

Favorite lyrics:

"I know she's not perfect,

But she tries so hard for me,

And I thank God that she isn't,

'Cuz how boring would that be?

It's the little imperfections,

It's a sudden change in plans

When she misreads the directions

And we're lost but holding hands.

Yeah, I live for

Little moments

Like that."

3. "Secrets" by Mary Lambert

It's all about a bipolar overweight girl with a screwed-up family who defiantly doesn't care WHO knows her secrets. She's tired of pretending to be someone she's not!

Favorite lyrics:

"I've got bipolar disorder,

My shit's not in order,

I'm overweight,

I'm always late,

I've got too many things to say.

I rock mom jeans, cat earrings,

Extrapolate my feelings.

My family is dysfunctional,

But we have a good time killing each other!

They tell us from the time we're young

To hide the things that we don't like about ourselves,

Inside ourselves.

I know I'm not the only one

Who spent so long attempting to be someone else.

Well I'm over it."

In conclusion...

"No one likes perfect people! Perfect people are boring!"

- Two Weeks Notice

In personality psychology terms, I'm an INFJ bordering on INTJ. I can't find any really good articles about either type, so I'm writing one. Let's break the terms down into letters:

I

This means I am an introvert. What is an introvert? An introvert is a person who expends energy on socializing, rather than gaining energy from socializing. From this simple difference springs a whole host of others. Introverts are more likely to enjoy spending time alone, can be seen as homebodies, prefer small gatherings, and would often rather listen than talk.

N

This means I am an Intuitive. Intuitives are often caught up in their own heads. This is in contrast to Sensory types, who are better at outward actions and observations. Sensory types live in the world outside of them. Intuitives, however, prefer to live in the world within them. They are excellent at philosophizing, moralizing, daydreaming, and idea-generation. They are attracted to visionaries and aspire to be such themselves.

T-F

This is where I'm caught between two types. F types are Feeling types -- they are moved by emotional pleas, follow their heart rather than their head, and interact with others in a sensitive way. T types are Thinking types -- they are moved by rational arguments, follow their head rather than their heart, and tend to be rather tough-skinned, stick-to-the-facts sorts of people. I am on a cusp between these two areas, head and heart.

J

J types are the organized types. This also means that they do not do well with spontaneity and sudden changes in plans. They prefer things planned to the letter, their calendars filled out neatly, and they tend to be very organized.

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Since INFJs and INTJs are considered separate areas of personality, it's worth noting some salient traits for each of them.

INFJs, having the F to soften their introverted, head-based, highly organized personality, can be very likable. They are romantic, daydreamy, sensitive both to criticism and in their interactions with others; they try hard to get along with absolutely everybody. They tend to be very good writers with an excellent penchant for imagery, and often express themselves better through writing (poetry, for example) than in conversation. It tends to take them awhile to make both friends and lovers, since they're reserved and prize depth in relationships and conversation. They are called The Counselors, having an instinctive sense of what is going on both inside other people and within themselves. They can attempt to repress their feelings, however, until an impending explosion is inevitable. INFJs are more likely than any other type to experience prescient dreams, strange emotional connections, visions, and other unexplainable phenomena.

INTJs, by contrast, have no F to soften their introverted, head-based, highly organized personality. Instead, they have a hard T -- a head-based, to-the-facts sort of person. As a result, INTJs can be disliked and easily misunderstood. They are not good at expressing their emotions, and do not try to be polite, be agreeable, and mince their words the way others do. INTJs can be witheringly blunt, and they drive others almost as hard as they drive themselves. However, INTJs have feelings, a need for friends, and even a romantic side just as much as others do -- even if they don't particularly like admitting it. INTJs aspire to be magicians of sorts, to be able to create things out of thin air -- only, through science or a craft or business rather than through magic or religion. They make good leaders, being natural strategists, but do not aspire to leadership positions except when they feel it's necessary. INTJs, being introverts, prefer to work behind the scenes -- and because of this, they are known as Masterminds.

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Because I have both types inside me, a lot of things about me make more sense. For example, I am studying both Creative Writing and Marketing. Each calling fulfills one of the aspects of my personality. INFJs are natural Creative Writers, while INTJs are excellent business strategists who enjoy the process of idea creation.

Or take my romantic life, for example. I have a strong desire for romance, but I also have trouble making close friends and expressing myself. It's a double-edged sword.

All I know is that I do struggle with the T-F part of myself. Every time I follow my heart, my head protests, and vice versa. Having two such strong personality types can be problematic.

My favorite classical novel is Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte. I'm here to talk today about the reasons why I like it, and why it's a book worth reading.

(THIS POST CONTAINS SPOILERS. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE PLANNING ON READING THE NOVEL AND WANT TO BE SURPRISED.)

Jane Eyre starts out as a poor young orphan girl living at the charity of her rich aunt. Her aunt despises her, and her spoiled cousins treat her terribly, particularly her very fat male cousin. Interestingly, the only person at Gateshead House who treats Jane well is a poor woman, a servant, her nurse Bessie. This is a common theme throughout the novel. Rich people are often portrayed as entitled, snotty, and spoiled. Jane herself, the heroine, comes from poor, religious parents, and works for a living for much of her life herself.

This leads me to what ends up happening to Jane. She is sent by her aunt to a religious, charitable institution, where she is trained to be a schoolteacher or governess. This institution, Lowood School, and its headmaster and chief benefactor are both criticized rather heavily. Bronte portrays the head of Lowood School as overly strict, needlessly harsh, and hypocritical -- he keeps his students destitute while living richly himself. This seems to be Bronte putting a critical light on certain members of the Church and of religious institutions.

All negative characters get their comeuppance throughout Jane Eyre. Her cousin loses all his money gambling and commits suicide. This leads her aunt Mrs Reed, who always spoiled him at Jane's expense, to have a stroke and die. Meanwhile, the head of Lowood School is fired from his position and the school is reformed.

Yet, Bronte seems to be saying, not all religious people themselves are bad. Jane herself believes in God and has a strong sense of right and wrong. Her friend at Lowood, Helen Burns, is quite possibly the most kind, gentle, and genuinely Christian character throughout the entire book. Interestingly, Helen is treated badly by all the heads of the Lowood institution, and dies from disease brought on by maltreatment.

At the same time, Jane Eyre teaches forgiveness. Jane forgives Mrs Reed at one point for making her childhood miserable. Helen forgives the teachers at Lowood for treating her badly. "Life's too short to be nursing animosity," says Helen. Far from being naive, Helen and Jane seem to forgive their attackers for their own health -- it makes them feel better, even if the people they're forgiving don't deserve it.

On an additional side note, women are often portrayed as being educated in Jane Eyre. Girls are taught at Lowood, and at two different points Jane is a governess for a little girl and a schoolteacher at an all girls school. Education for women is put in a positive light.

Just as bad deeds are punished, good deeds are rewarded in Jane Eyre. At one point, a family called the Rivers takes Jane in at a time of great desperation, out of the goodness of their hearts. They are later rewarded by becoming fabulously wealthy because of Jane.

Jane Eyre passes the Bechdel test splendidly. The Bechdel test is a test to see if a novel or film is feminist. The theory goes that feminist female characters do not have to be particularly brave, strong, or career oriented. All they have to be is complex, three-dimensional, and interesting, with a life outside male characters. The Bechdel tests asks if, at any point in the story, two female characters talk to each other about something that is not a male. That's it. That's all it is, but it's amazing how many movies even in modern day don't pass it -- movies with supposedly "strong" female characters.

Jane Eyre passes. Jane talks to Helen about things that aren't a man, and later she talks with a housekeeper named Mrs Fairfax and a female student named Adele Varens.

That leads me to what happens next in Jane's story. Jane grows up at Lowood. She becomes an adult, and seeks work as a governess. She finds a post teaching a ward named Adele Varens at a wealthy manor house out in the moors called Thornfield Hall, kept together by the formidable Mrs Fairfax and owned by the mysterious Mr Edward Fairfax Rochester.

Jane meets Mr Rochester, and it doesn't take long at all for them to become interested in each other. This relationship as it is written is a masterpiece in and of itself.

Jane and Mr Rochester are intellectual equals, and Mr Rochester admits this at one point in the story. Jane stands up to Mr Rochester, and at one point she saves his life from death by fire -- not the other way around. They are presented as soul mates -- twin spirits -- it is not a physical, superficial relationship. They are snarky and teasing to each other. She understands that he is not a perfect person, but loves him anyway. Jane is good for Mr Rochester -- she is a moral, virtuous person, is not afraid of his acerbic wit or his mood swings, and "has no wish to talk nonsense." She refuses to compromise her morals to be with him, and will not do anything with someone she is not married to. Mr Rochester, who is rich and promiscuous and used to being pleased, resorts to many things to try to get her to change her mind. When she doesn't, he agrees to marry her to have her. Meanwhile, Mr Rochester opens the reserved Jane up, he is the first person in her life to appreciate and recognize her, and he gives her a happier life than she has thus far lived.

Mr Rochester and Jane are even hinted to have a psychic connection. Once, he calls out to her in desperation and despair; she hears him from hundreds of miles away.

At last, Mr Rochester has asked Jane to marry him. Preparations for the wedding are taking place, but Jane is troubled. "I will be Jane Eyre no longer," she reflects in disappointment. Just as he is afraid of the restrictions placed upon him by marriage, so is she. Jane has an independent spirit and dislikes the idea of "belonging" to anyone.

One interesting side note is that neither Jane nor Edward is attractive. They are both plain and rather ugly, thus proving that main characters don't have to be beautiful to be romantic or interesting, something even our modern entertainment industry does not seem to grasp. In addition, though both Jane and Edward have a chance to marry a beautiful person, they refuse because they are not in love with that person -- they are in love with each other. To turn the stereotypes even more on their head, there is a wide age gap between Edward and Jane. Jane is nineteen and Edward is in his mid-thirties.

Throughout all this, a mystery has been taking place in Jane Eyre. Mr Rochester keeps speaking of a "blow" fate dealt to him many years ago, and of a "capital error" he drags through life. In addition, people keep turning up attacked and nearly murdered. Jane suspects a servant, but this woman turns out to be a red herring.

At last, the truth comes to light. Shortly before her wedding, Jane finds out Mr Rochester is secretly married. He married a woman many years ago for her money, and later discovered her to be deeply insane. He keeps her locked up under watch in his attic.

Enter Bertha Mason.

Bertha Mason is a remarkable character. Not only is she an example of mental illness being addressed all the way back in the 1800s, her mental illness is not portrayed romantically. This woman is a danger to herself and others, and has problems with delusions, suicidal thoughts, addiction and self medicating. Yet she is not put in an asylum, which are criticized as horrific and inhumane institutions. Part of Bertha's realism may come from the fact that she is based on a real woman Bronte had heard of, who was kept locked up in her attic because she had many of the more mentally ill symptoms of epilepsy.

Bertha's portrayal is not perfect -- not much is gotten from her perspective, and it's easy to dismiss her as a villainous character. Still, one can't help feeling sorry for her, and for its time this was remarkably progressive.

Jane now has a problem. She knows Mr Rochester will never voluntarily let her leave, but she also knows that it is against her convictions to marry someone who is already married and commit polygamy. So Jane does a very brave thing -- she runs away and becomes a beggar woman, because she would rather die than compromise her principles. Whether we share those principles is not the point. The point is that Jane refuses to be swayed from what she feels is right.

Jane is found and taken in by the Rivers family, and given a job as a local schoolteacher. She later discovers the Rivers are her cousins. When a wealthy uncle of hers dies and leaves her all his money, she shares that money freely with her cousins. (Jane is repeatedly shown as modest and unconcerned with wealth and status. When Rochester offers her all his jewels upon their engagement, she refuses them, saying she is plain and that is how she shall remain.)

In the end, Jane returns to Mr Rochester to find his wife burned Thornfield to the ground and committed suicide. Crippled and blinded by the fire, he now lives in a hunting lodge, tended to by servants. Still in love with Rochester, she marries him, despite his protests that he is too old and crippled to make a worthwhile husband to a rich young lady. Just as he was willing to marry her when she was a poor, plain governess.

In addition to all the other virtues of Jane Eyre, she herself is a wonderful character. Jane is honest, blunt, and passionate. She is intelligent, moral, and well educated. She is humble and wishes only to work and be independent. Though young, she is experienced at what she does for a living. She’s a tough survivor who braves cruelty silently and has struggles independent of Mr Rochester. She does not want to be a victim -- she claims her tale is not one of woe, and when she is depressed she tries her best to hide it and carry on as normal. She is also brave -- even when Bertha’s brother and Mr Rochester are attacked, she shows no fear.

She’s small, quiet, serious, plain, shy, and unafraid of solitude -- so an unconventional heroine, going against the western Extrovert Ideal. She is once described as “unfeminine.” She is described as fairy-like and distant, with “rather a look of another world about you.” She has visions and futuristic dreams. She "imagines things she is powerless to execute" -- she paints and draws and is quite creative. She struggles with depression, which is remarkable in a centuries-old heroine. She is kind, is described as “gentle”, and takes care of the people who are kind to her -- Adele, Mr Rochester, and the Rivers family.

Here are some of my favorite Jane quotes:

“I would do anything for you, sir -- anything that was right.”

“You’d dare condemnation for my sake?” “For the sake of any friend who deserved it.”

“Look to God and yourself.”

“Who would you offend by living with me? Who would care?” “I would... I must respect myself.”

To the rich and high-class Mr Rochester: “Am I a machine without feelings? Do you think that because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, that I am soulless and heartless? I have as much soul as you and full as much heart! And if God had blessed me with beauty and wealth, I could make it as hard for you to leave me as it is for I to leave you. I’m not speaking to you through mortal flesh. It is my spirit that addresses your spirit, as if we’d passed through life and stood at God’s feet, equal -- as we are.”

To a man (again Mr Rochester): “I am a free human being with an independent will which I now exert to leave you.”

And here is my favorite quote, just before she meets Mr Rochester:

“I wish a woman could have action in her life, like a man. It agitates me to pain that the skyline over there is ever our limit. I long sometimes for a power of vision that would overpass it. If I could behold all I imagine... I’ve never seen a city. I’ve never spoken with men, and sometimes I fear my whole life will pass...”

I think this can appeal to the women in all of us, the women who want more, who dream big, and who fear they will never fall in love or meet The One. I know it stirs something instinctive inside me.