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Hi guys

Local time
Today, 02:18
Joined
Jan 11, 2013
Messages
27
#1
Hello.

Let's see...

First of all i'm INTP.
Consider myself to be an optimist perceiver.
In my head, i don't worry about bad things. I consider bad thoughts to be way too troubleing for people, so i don't think too much about them. The media is also a bad influence for me, they only think to mention the bad news.
It's a waste of my time.
So instead i walk around, thinking and enjoying the little things. It's kinda satisfying and mind meditating.
I do photography alot, but my carrer is IT technician/administrator.
Just graduated top of my class, so i'm looking for a job right now.
My deep thinking and calmness have ruined a few job interviews,
so i started studying myself to find out who i am, and how to tell it.
I still haven't figured out the last part, i guess that's why i'm here.
I have some ENTP in me and that wants to come out.

Greetings.
 

snafupants

Prolific Member
Local time
Yesterday, 20:18
Joined
May 31, 2010
Messages
5,026
#2
I never watch the news because it's mostly negativity. I'd rather read it anyway.

Why would I want to hear overeducated people bitch?...sounds like the forum. :D

At any rate, welcome, Kenny. Have a...cat. :cat:
 
Local time
Today, 02:18
Joined
Jan 11, 2013
Messages
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#3
Actually i meant that i don't really watch TV at all.
Even the commericals is annoying me with them trying to tell consumers what to buy.
 

SpaceYeti

Prolific Member
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Yesterday, 19:18
Joined
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Messages
5,600
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Crap
#7
Actually i meant that i don't really watch TV at all.
Even the commericals is annoying me with them trying to tell consumers what to buy.
I'll have you know I'm a copywriter, and your subjective opinion is offensive to me. Do you know what would happen without commercials? My family would be homeless and they'd starve to death! Do you feel good about yourself now?!



I keed, I'm not a copywriter. But you should still show copywriters respect. Without them, how would you know about the cool new toys Nerf has come out with?
 
Local time
Today, 02:18
Joined
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Messages
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#8
Thats why we need all diffrent kinds of people in this world. Not saying everyone should pursue my path, but they should make up their own minds.
 
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Yesterday, 21:18
Joined
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New York City (The Big Apple) & State
#10
I like this place already, fantasic :cool:
You can't judge by these few guys if you know what's good for you.:mad: INTP's always need a large sample not being able to tell a representative one from a gross distortion.:slashnew: This place is much larger than you think.
 

TheScornedReflex

(Per) Version of a truth.
Local time
Today, 13:18
Joined
Dec 9, 2012
Messages
1,910
#11
Without them, how would you know about the cool new toys Nerf has come out with?
I have spent all Xmas and the following weeks shooting people with my nephews nerf gun. I am definitely investing in some. The big ones that fire lots and lots of bullets/dart thingies. They are fucking awesome!
 
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Joined
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Messages
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Location
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#13
If yer going to make up your own mind you should pay attention to the bad stuff as well as the good stuff. It's the former that can git ya.
 
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#14
Your mind should make up her own mind!
Yeah that's what i'm trying to say.
People are people and they use their own minds, good grace for that.
You seem very agressive and dominant, be nice to new people instead.
(I'm assuming this from my feelings, you should relate to this fact)

You can't judge by these few guys if you know what's good for you.:mad: INTP's always need a large sample not being able to tell a representative one from a gross distortion.:slashnew: This place is much larger than you think.
I was judging the fact that the first person who answers, was like "Me too bro, we have something in common".
I can judge that everything is off to a good start, making me like this place already.
Just expressing my feelings and trying to be nice.
 
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#16

SpaceYeti

Prolific Member
Local time
Yesterday, 19:18
Joined
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Messages
5,600
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#17
Yeah that's what i'm trying to say.
People are people and they use their own minds, good grace for that.
You seem very agressive and dominant, be nice to new people instead.
(I'm assuming this from my feelings, you should relate to this fact)
Your mom seems aggresive and dominant!

But no, it's mostly just stupid jokes. In fact, the post you just quoted was a typo. It was supposed to be a 'your mom' joke, and I simply failed to notice I typed 'mind' where I meant to put 'mom'.
 

Duxwing

I've Overcome Existential Despair
Local time
Yesterday, 21:18
Joined
Sep 9, 2012
Messages
3,783
#18
Hello.

Let's see...

First of all i'm INTP.
Consider myself to be an optimist perceiver.
In my head, i don't worry about bad things. I consider bad thoughts to be way too troubleing for people, so i don't think too much about them. The media is also a bad influence for me, they only think to mention the bad news.
It's a waste of my time.
So instead i walk around, thinking and enjoying the little things. It's kinda satisfying and mind meditating.
I do photography alot, but my carrer is IT technician/administrator.
Just graduated top of my class, so i'm looking for a job right now.
My deep thinking and calmness have ruined a few job interviews,
so i started studying myself to find out who i am, and how to tell it.
I still haven't figured out the last part, i guess that's why i'm here.
I have some ENTP in me and that wants to come out.

Greetings.
Here's an in-universe greeting to our forum. Take it with a grain of salt, but enjoy it nonetheless. :) And I encourage you to answer the question posed at the end in your own literary "voice".

__________________________________________________ ___________________

As winter's snowflakes drift from clouds on high, you make soft strides o'er the ground below. Beneath your coat, bandages cover the wounds of battles past. You think of how your blood had run red as an autumn apple, making little crimson pools in the freshly fallen snow. Yet you didn't let the darkness take you; with fury that burnt like the summer sun, you'd risen, angry tears pouring down your cheeks. You'd wanted to make the seas run red with the blood of those who'd attacked you; to choke the rivers with their bodies; to rend the night with their screams of anguish! But they had gone, and you were alone.

You took what little you had left: a beaver-skin coat too ragged to sell, wool pants too tattered to wear, and love note-- now wet and nearly ruined-- from a Jane, girl you'd met in the last town you'd been to, Evair. On that first night you'd met at the New Year's festival, she'd wrapped you in her coat when he'd seen you shivering, she'd listened when you'd ranted about the cold, and she'd had just that certain twinkle in her eye. When the night had ended, she'd taken you back to her house. Suddenly, you'd realized that you liked her, but not like that; she'd noticed, slapped her forehead, put her palm over her face, and said, "You're right, I'm taking things too fast; I'm sorry. Here, I hope that this helps," and offered you a silver piece to get a room at the town's inn. You'd said goodbye, walked down the steps, and off to that nice warm bed. There's a silver lining to every cloud, you'd thought to yourself.

The next day, you hadn't seen her. You'd looked for her by the ashes of the bonfire, in the tavern, and even in the jail. No luck. In desperation, you'd walked back to her house and knocked on the door. No response.

Oi, what a strange girl: Eager to get frisky one day and hidden the next. had rung your thought. How could anyone be so shaky with their feelings?

But as your eyes had passed over the top of her door frame, you'd found the answer. A Latin motto, in black gothic letters upon the worn white wood, had been there. It had read, Logica, Scientia, Veritas. Classic INTP.

I guess that Fe had gotten the best of her

And as the days had passed Jane had become but a foggy memory, and your time at the inn had come to an end. The innkeeper had given you a few hours that morning to pack your things: spare clothes, a few pieces of bread, a jug of water, a small knife. As you had been putting them into your leather satchel, you'd heard a knock on the door to your room. "Who is it?" You'd asked. No reply. You'd sighed, gotten up, and opened the door. There had been no-one there, only a note. "To Kenny," had read the title. Within, there had been all the signs of a love-struck thinker trying to express herself: crossed out words replaced with ones that were themselves crossed out and replaced with words whose definitions you could barely remember, forcefully pressed pen-strokes, and even a horridly scribbled picture mentioning a visit to a place called "INTP Forum". Another sigh had passed your lips; 'twas cute.

So with note in hand you had left that town, and with note in hand you'd been beaten down, cut, stabbed, and hurled against a sycamore tree by a roving gang of robbers. They'd left you for dead, but they had been wrong. And you had risen from your snowy resting place to take revenge by living-- living in a place where one could walk in peace. You'd ripped some cloth from your meager clothes and fashioned bandages to keep your wounds at bay, gathered your strength, and pressed on into the cold.

And so you stand in the freshly fallen powder like a springtime bud: hardy, strong, and alive despite the bitter cold of nature. You stride forward, eager to know what the world has in store, eager to forget the battles past, eager to let the wounds heal and let you live in peace. Zzzip! An arrow zings by! Snapped back from your thinking, you leap behind a snowbank!

"Halt, who goes there?" cries a woman's voice.

You press closer to the bank, shut your eyes, and shudder.

"Who goes there?!" she cries again.

Your chest rises and falls like a drum beaten by a madman.

"In the name of the order of the INTP forum, who goes there?" the woman cries out once more.

Your eyes flash open. You recall the note that you'd carried in your pocket. You realize that you might be saved!

"H-here! I-I'm h-here" you chatter, partly from cold, partly from fear.

"Then stand and unfold yourself!" comes the reply.

You rise and shout back, "I-I a-a-am Kenny the B-Brave!"

The woman wears a thick, russet tunic-- warm enough to brave any chill-- navy blue pants, full mail, and hard leather boots. She carries a hard-used, rusty broadsword upon her hip, and, upon one of her rough, strong arms, a buckler that bears the image of a quill and inkpot. Beneath the symbol are the words, "Logica, Scientia, Veritas". Her mien is one of confident determination, and her eyes look upon the world with the air of long-dead heroes. Relieved, you walk toward her and exchange stories. Her name is Alice, and she's been guardian of the order of the INTP forum for years and asks if you'd like a place to stay. You nod, teeth still chattering in the bitter cold.

The two of you walk for hours on end, crossing wind-swept hill and frozen dale. The snow, which once fell but one flake at a time, now falls in huge sheets and piles in great drifts as far as the eye can see. The wind howls and roars like a demon, ready to swallow you both up. You shudder and shake, but Alice has nothing to wrap you in. The winter wonderland has become a frozen waste, and the sun, which sets early in the winter, falls below the horizon. The night is as black as pitch.

"H-how are w-we to g-get t-to the O-order?" you ask, teeth clattering together.

"Well, I know a song that will help us get home," she replies:

"In winter-tiding's starry night
See abbey fires burning bright
See the north-star's e'er fixed light
And you will find your home to-night"

Her voice croaks a bit with the cold, and you can barely hear the words over the blasting wind, but for that moment, she looks happy-- like woodpecker caught in a thunderstorm who finds brief respite beneath a tree. Yet the snow pounds down like huge bricks of lead. Each step is harder than the last, and eventually, you drop to your knees in exhaustion.

"A-alice, g-give th-this n-note to a girl n-named J-Jane in E-evair. T-tell h-her th-that i-it had k-kept me warm. Th-then, r-raise y-your s-sword to s-s-tormy c-clouds o-on h-high, th-then b-bring i-it d-down u-upon m-my n-neck; i-it's a b-better way t-to d-die."

"Kenny, where is your courage?"

"I-in the d-drifts of s-snow"

Alice pauses, looking down at her boots. Then she kneels down before you and looks you in the eye.

"Come pain, come death, come suffering, your name is forever. Like a legend, it carries you thousands of miles. So rise, brave Kenny, rise and take the name that you were given!" Your jaw quivers a bit. Your whole body tenses up. With one great breath, you straighten to a height that you never known that you'd had. With the fury of the summer sun, with angry tears frozen on your cheeks, with all the courage of your name, you rise.

"Death's scythe shall clang upon my armor of rage" you shout, too furious to chatter.

And so it does. Made warm by the heat of a summer sun within your breast, you press on for miles through the night and eventually come to a titanic castle. You barely make out a motto on its towering iron doors, "Logica, Scientia, Veritas". Alice smiles at you as you mouth the words. The sentries, who stand upon the walls, call down through the howling wind, "Alice the Guardian, who stands beside you?"

"K-Kenny th-the b-b-brave!" you scream up at them "A-and I-I'll c-climb up th-that t-t-tower and r-rip y-your throats o-out i-i-if y-you d-don't l-let us in! A-AM I-I C-C-CLEAR?"

Alice nudges your ribs, "Easy, easy, take it easy. We're reasonable people here, no need to shout".

"W-wait? Th-they're a-all INTP's l-like m-m-me?"

"Well, yes, for the most part; however similar we may be, though, some of our most colorful members aren't INTP's at all.". You tilt your head questioningly.

"Cognisant, for example, is an ENTP, and he's practically melded with the floorboards. The place just wouldn't be the same without his Ne-fueled dreams of humanoid robots and sentient AI. Just be careful with his feelings, though: he's sad and lonely so he tries to pretend that he's emotionless."

One sentry runs down and opens the a small door in the larger ones. The two of you enter and proceed into the bailey.

"My, my, my, is this Kenny the brave?" asks the guard. You snarl at him like a hungry wolf. He gulps. "For the title is well deserved!" The sentry directs you toward a large stone building just a little to the left of where you'd entered. He tips his helmet disappears into the falling snow.

"Well, I suppose that this is goodbye, Kenny." says Alice as the two of you stand before the building's door, a tinge of sadness in her voice. "My place is out there, standing watch and searching the woods for others like you." She gives you a hug as warm as a crackling fire, a lonely sigh under her breath. Then, she too disappears into the drifting flakes and howling wind. You open the door and enter.

You find yourself standing in the atrium of a great castle. A mosaic of light streams through stained glass windows bearing the visages of such great men as Socrates, Plato, Godel, Picasso, and Nietszche and creates bright, dappled pools the dim vastness. Two white-bearded old men argue unintelligibly over what looks like calculus, but could very well be abstract modern art. You wander through the softly rustling halls and hear the clinking of glass and the ringing of laughter down another hall. Though they are far away, these festivities have a distant quality in themselves-- like the horizon at sunset, always so far away; curious, you walk toward the far and merry sounds.

As you softly step over a fallen lectern, you hear the racket reach a climax. The laughter is still distant, yet roaring! You wish that you could enter, you wish that you could just walk in and slip into the crowd, you wish that you'd instantly be one of the members, but you know that such things take time; as you begin to walk away, the words of Alice transfix you like one of her arrows, "So rise, brave Kenny, rise and take the name that you were given!". You imagine her standing beside you with that look of devil-may-care determination in her eyes, a gutsy smile on her lips, weather-beaten arms crossed over her breastplate, dinged and rusty sword hanging from her hip, and flakes of snow drifting from her hair. You stare at her and whisper, "But Alice, I can't; I'm just a wanderer. They've likely got years of philosophical, political, and scientific education and experience behind them; I'm only a kid."

With an incredulous chuckle and a hand on your shoulder, Alice replies, "Gimme a break, kid. These people were all once just like you: cold, lonely wanderers looking for a place to call home. And guess what? The order welcomed them with open arms."

"But that's inductive logic!" you reply, shoulder slinking back under her glove.

"The matter at hand is scientific, not philosophical. We're looking to create an empirical model that will predict the most likely outcome, not every outcome." Alice retorts.

"But what if a black swan arrives?" you implore her, begging her to see the deeper philosophical question.

"I understand that my model does not account for every possibility, but since I am limited to knowing only inputs and outputs, not the true nature of the acceptance-rejection mechanism; therefore, the best that I can do is make an educated guess, and my guess is that you'll be brought into the fold swimmingly."

With a heavy sigh, you nod, "Point made, Alice, point made," escape the words. You glumly turn to face the entrance. Again her hand stops you!

"Hey? Is Kenny the Brave about to enter a room all sulky and sad?" she prods. Your silence unnerves her slightly, yet she presses on.

"Kenny, listen, kid." she begins, a hint of compassion entering her voice, "We all get nervous when we're going to meet new people: Nobody can tell you what'll happen, they could be crazy, they could be murderers, they even might want to kidnap you and boil your skin in molten salt-- the whole gamut of human existence is a possibility when meeting people for the first time--"

"--see! You're just going to get yourself--" you butt in.

she continues with a voice as soft as lilacs and as strong as mountains "--even though we know that the next person could very well harbor deep animosity toward every living thing, we keep talking, for long years of lonely sorrow can be outweighed by just a few of friendship."

A long, quiet pause breaks her words, and you reply without a sound. You reach your hand up... and find that she, being but a memory, isn't there. But her words echo in your mind, stirring a thunder in your heart. You rise without tears, a smile of fond reminiscence upon your face, and whisper, "Thanks, Alice". You turn toward the door and enter.

A resplendent golden light beams down from a chandelier upon a long, broad banquet table piled high with all the beasts and plants of the earth. A sad boy of twenty-two years sits there, alone, wearing a masquerade mask over half his face. But not quite. Around him, dressed in all the airs of high society, are figures made from brass and wood. From time to time, one raises an arm and brings it crashing down on the table as if it had heard something worth laughing over. Then the boy laughs, a creaking, distant, lonely laugh, one wet with the wine that had once been within the towering bottle by his chalice. As you walk in, he sees your shadow on the table. As he looks up, his mask falls, and he roots you to the spot with eyes full of pain and loneliness. Then, a softly shivered sigh passes his lips, he slaps his forehead, squeezes his eyes shut, then tips the table over with a tremendous crash and sprints out a door in the back yelling, "I have no soul! Emotions are but a defect of my design. See the men of wood and brass-- they don't even wince when they're lonely!"

Disturbed, you gulp and step out of the room. Was that Cognisant? you wonder. You return to the atrium; there, a cloaked figure emerges from the shadows, holding a leather satchel that bears your name.

"Hail, traveler, and welcome to our quiet halls. You'll find a room down five doors and on your left-- mind the cobblestone floors, it's easy to stub your toe. The nights are a bit cold, drafty, and damp, but there's plenty of hot, crispy, succulent roast boar and cold, sweet, clear mead to wash it down. This place has a glorious history of titanic battles among the great knights of our order: Cognisant, Architect, Da Blob, and ProxyAmenRa, just to name a few. And in our finest hours, we've taken trophies: the heads of Norse Gods, the crimson blood of dreamers scorned, and the still-beating heart of a troll. Yet, if trade you seek, other manors may better able to help you.

For example, and though you likely didn't see it through the snow, the one-hundred story glass tower that you saw on the way in is a colony of ENTJ's; their very similar functions and yet different perspective on life have made trade and friendship with them both lucrative and interesting. But they are just as 'soulless' as we, and few have ever tried to mate with them-- a course I that highly recommend maintaining.

As a final detail, even we of the rational temperament can fall victim to our emotions. Try to remember that in your posts, as even a simple, "Alright, let's let this cool off for a few days" or "Oh, that must have hurt something awful; here's a dry shoulder *hug* " can work wonders when another poster is angry or upset."

With a gentle nod and the wink of an eye, he hands you the satchel. Therein you find your room keys, a thick, warm, cotton cloak, cold, slippery slices of partridge carefully wrapped in parchment paper, a small, hearty loaf of bread, and a frosty glass bottle of water from the castle's spring.

"Just in case you decide to leave, let this be a gift from our order" interrupts the figure "Oh, and do dig deeper, you'll be pleasantly surprised."

Reaching further into the satchel's murky depths, you find a scroll on which is written in small, neat script, an oath:

The Thinker's Creed

In brightest day,
In darkest night
No falsehood shall escape my sight
Let those who worship Madness' might
Beware my power,
Pure logic's light!

The cloaked figure touches your shoulder and asks:

"Swear you this oath? For only through it shall you find Truth, be it in the Void or another code. In times of darkness, let it be your candle."

-Duxwing
 
Local time
Yesterday, 20:18
Joined
Dec 19, 2008
Messages
5,948
Location
Oklahoma
#19
actually I rather agree with utterly discounting the negative. I owned a TV for 4 years during the past twenty and used it mainly for watching the occasional sporting event. people, perhaps motivated by egotism, do not seem to realize the tremendous power that classical conditioning in conjunction with induced hypnotic trances can have on a person's life. I can say with certainty, that those who control the media are not on humanity's side.

Secondly, I have found that the quality of life can also be grossly affected by what manner of thought I entertain in my mind, or allow my mind to be entertained by. Now if a thought annoys me, i just tell it to go away and it does.

I wonder how many contemporary Americans have ever actually experienced "Peace Of Mind", instead being constantly bombarded to invest moments of consciousness or to pay attention to that which works in a Hegelian fashion to frustrate a natural flow and divert it to serve an Other's purpose?
 
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