Injecting Data

Scraps of Life

Many times, my closest friends complain that they don’t get important information from me. Whereas I absolutely agree with them, on the macro level, many times, I have difficulty finding the appropriate micro-opportunity to disclose essential data.

On one hand, I am a great believer of journeying together in life with those whom one loves. I’m reminded of a profound episode of “Will and Grace,” in which, due to their recent geographic distance, Will and Grace no longer had the kind of intimacy they once enjoyed. The conclusion was that they each would contact the other with every thought or event in his/ her life. I believe Will said something to the effect of “if you change tooth pastes, I wanna know about it.” Yes. I agree with that. That’s how one journeys together in life. Sadly, social media has given us a great means of the output portion of that equation, with little of the input benefits— namely, the intimacy.

Therefore, on the other hand, people mostly don’t seem to want to hear anything that disrupts their current flow of thought or task. Being an effective communicator means understanding one’s audience and the context into which one projects to insert data. Many times, the data that I hope to insert has no proper port.

For instance, I once had to sit through an entire brunch while secretly mourning the death of a dear friend. I scheduled this brunch, with acquaintances with whom I was still becoming familiar, a few weeks in advance, so when the tragedy happened, it was impossible to cancel. If I did, I would have to explain why and then they would begin treating me strangely or not addressing my pain at all, all of which would be quite uncomfortable for an INTJ. Therefore I kept a smile on my face and my emotions in a nice sturdy cage.

Also, texting seems to inhibit the exchange of proper data due to its immediate and toneless nature. I’ve tried to disclose significant information using this means, but have failed miserably, causing unnecessary pain for both parties.




I would quite love to exchange thoughts and feelings efficiently. Perhaps, given our highly detached forms of communication lately, it wouldn’t be a terrible idea for all of us to decide to pay closer attention to what others are actually communicating and be ok with being interrupted in our current paths.

The ride home

Scraps of Life, the thoughts of a kat

My personality never gave me a chance. Being an INTJ, the thing that most drives me to either sit in the corner peeling the skin off of my thigh or plot the bloody demise of innocent children is misunderstanding. And yet the way that I, as a soul, have been designed seems to make it nearly impossible to make my intentions understood. Perhaps an even greater finger-in-the-eye is that due to my many years of training on social interaction (AKA being around humans and having to survive in a society), I’ve come to function relatively smoothly in social situations, thereby giving people the wrong expectations.

The thing that often trips me up, I suppose, is that though, being an artist, I do have strong emotions and am aware of them, my decisions and behaviors are based on thoughts rather than feelings. This does not work out well sometimes.

Once, when I was living in Seoul, Korea, during a small group gathering, my close girlfriends and I were sharing our thoughts and feelings. We were really baring our souls and being vulnerable. One of the girls, a neighbor of mine, in fact, shared some honest fears, to which I was quite compassionate.


The typically 15 minute cab ride home lasted about 3 hours that evening. I was always taught, in counseling classes, to address the current issue, and not to form general conclusions. So if my friend was feeling insecure about how people feel toward her, doesn’t “people” include me?


It was time to be comforting. Some other people might not have thought to tell a friend how valuable she is. But I wasn’t going to be “some people”. That’s how we get people who go through life wondering if people love her.


So I began…


But then my feelings tried to fight my brain. “This is weird, you crazy woman!” they said. But my brain rebutted, “That’s what selfish feelers say, which prevents them from being kind and logical humanitarians. Shut up!”





I don’t know what I expected to happen. I think I thought that she might just say “thank you” and that we would stop for shaved ice on the way. Instead, the reality of the situation hit me like an angry woman with a dead fish in her hand. I’d made a monumental mistake and now I was, once again, the awkward girl in the group. How would I recover from this? What would make this right?



Thank God for socially capable people.