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I don't have dress up clothes. I have a polo shirt. It's blue. I think I have a rugby around here somewhere as well. I think it's maroon and navy. That's my version of "dressed up", lol. If it has a collar and buttons, it's a dress shirt. If I get a job with the school district, I'm going to have to buy some more polos. Lest they think I'm a weirdo for wearing the same shirt every day. :tongue:

I can't buy shirts in a regular store. I'm too bulky/muscular for that. I need a 4lx shirt... actually, I probably need somewhere beween a 2xl and a 3xl, but since some shit (t-shirts primarily) are prone to shrinking after a time, I tend to buy them 4xl so that they still fit properly in 6 months.

Also, I don't like skin tight shirts. I have the build for it, but don't care for it. It's actually quite uncomfortable.

I pretty much buy everything online because I hate shopping with a passion. :tongue:

Clinically depressed, eh? :laughing: I think that's the first time anyone's ever said that, even as a joke. I did have a go 'round with that clinical depression stuff when my parents got divorced. Jesus Jones... didn't much care for that. It was very frustrating to me, being a seriously logical soul, because I knew I was in the midst of it and yet I couldn't make it stop. I think that awareness was worse than the depression itself. Because I knew and if I knew I should be able to fix it and I couldn't. That sucked.

Ah well... time to go to work now. Wanted to play CoD, but... 2 hr update. Yay. :dry:

Cheerio, minions!
I was hoping you'd know I was joking. Your mind--as reflected in your writing--tells me you can pick up nuances many others cannot, don't.

If I like and feel comfortable with someone I am more likely to make a joke on par with your being 20% clinically depressed, but after I sent it, and went to bed, before falling asleep, I thought, "He doesn't know my sense of humor(s) yet, and he doesn't know how much I like his posts like the last one I read in INFJ Vents or wherever it was... about over-doing the candy and his co-worker Nick wanting to do everything but makes rounds. He doesn't have access to my thoughts, so he may have taken what I said not so much wrong as unwelcome..."

You came up hard enough, close enough to how I did except, you know, no mother in prison for armed robbery, not in foster care, being female and raped when I was nine, and all the other jazz, but the relaxed, working-class way you write (that's the best description I have for now) explains to my mind, in part, why so many of us who are INTJ or INFJ and such get stereotypical responses (sometimes the person just thinks it; other times they write it), "Such and such cannot be a xxFJ or xxTJ because he or she is 'too eloquent.'

None of the major MBTI or enneagram practitioners note 'eloquence' or any synonym for types. The closest any come is to say that INFPs, INFJs 'might' enjoy languages; 'might' become teachers, that sort of thing.

None of the people I note doing the stereotyping give any weight to, or ask any questions about the so-called mistyped person's background: Economics, cultural environment that 'might' explain his or her not holding down jobs that fit some kind of mental list for a particular type, or expressing him or herself better, more fully, using colloquial words and phrases.

In my case I was reading dictionaries and encyclopedias when I was 10, loved math, hated English (I didn't give a rat's ass about 'dangling participles' and the rest, but I was reading as many as three books a day by the time I was 13, and had as many as five going, in rotation, up until a few years ago when moving back to my home state (crazy climate) and medications my doctor increased (causes working memory problems) made it necessary for me to spread a lot more energy around Se tasks, less available for what I most enjoy:

Researching favorite subjects ranging from world religions to conflict resolution to anatomy and physiology to ancient history to various philosophers dating back to Plato and coming up to the 19th-20th century Paul Tillich. Also, some psychologists like Karen Horney and Erich Fromm.

I once thought, while reading a very interesting book and feeling high--like others describe that feeling, "I want to swallow the world!" and that was disturbing, to be that greedy for knowledge, so I've been consciously reining that in--not repressing it, just developing self-discipline around recognizing and 'not' acting on that deep-seated 'need to know!'

You are one of my favorite writers on PerC, so any time I joke, if I step out of line by your standards, shoot me a PM--I will back off; I have had to do that a few times with members over on INTJf when I was an active member there, because my joshing tapped a swollen root and caused someone unintentional but pain all the same.

Your description of your clothing and needs, wow--harder to fit than I am but similar in your attitude and actions concerning formal wear. I attended my Mammaw's funeral in a burgundy dress, out there among all those looking solemn in black I was cheerful--conflicted because she'd had such a hard life and end to it as well, and I missed her, but it was a gorgeous day, she was finally free from suffering (died at 88 after having 14 children, married to a brutal man, losing six children (five in childhood), one to suicide when he was in his late 20s (a big, quiet, likable introvert), and having to live with a colostomy back in the days when technology isn't what it is now, and she was in a sub-standard nursing home.

I got a lot of odd looks for my behavior at the grave-side that day regarding how I dressed, not 'acting' all mournful, but you know what? I was there for my grandmother three days before she died, sitting on her bed, stroking her arm and humming a lull-a-bye to her because her breath was coming so fast, like a puppy in pain... her body already in rigor mortis so that when I asked the nurse to change her position which looked uncomfortable, the nurse looked hesitant and I knew, said it for her, "If you move her legs you may break them," and she looked relieved, said, "Yes," sounding sad, and went away. So I stroked my Mammaw's arm and I hummed to her, her breathing slowed considerably.

She was unconscious, in a coma, but she 'felt' the care even if she didn't know where or from whom it was coming.

Such small things...

So often it's only small things we can do to connect with another person.

One of my ways is good-natured teasing.

I don't think you suffer from any kind of depression, and I don't hold to much that The Medical Model tosses out as medical students are indoctrinated early and thoroughly by the curriculum heavily influenced by its sponsors:

Pharmaceutical, insurance, and medical supply companies.


Off to respond to a PM or two--depends on what each contains, and whether or not I have to let something 'gel' or not, and for how long...

Then I am off to play some word games, emphasis on 'play' as I started my weight training routine (after a 10-year break) yesterday, and I am sore, and sure to getting more sore as the day progresses. I'm already feeling mentally foggy.

Hope work went well for you, or if that is where you are now, that it is going well.

Until we cross paths, be safe. ᕙ(`▿´)ᕗ
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