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Enneagram Type 5 Board Archive Re:Quite Interesting...Posted by Missy on December 23, 2001 at 15:24:39: In Reply to: Part 1 posted by Guess Who on December 22, 2001 at 22:17:56: You sound like an INTP. maybe a 5w4. just venturing a guess. :) : My dad was digging the basement with a shovel. I was sitting on top of dirt near him. I crawled around in the dirt, immersing myself in it. I wanted to put my hands all over all the dirt, but I could not. I was too small, there was too much dirt, and my dad kept turning over more dirt with his shovel. I thought that he was moving too fast. I thought he should stop and really feel the dirt with his fingers and hands and roll in it. But he kept throwing these huge shovelfulls of dirt into the wheelbarrow, vast amounts of dirt that we would never be truly familiar with. Then Dad took the wheelbarrow away and came back without any dirt. The dirt just disappeared, and I thought it sad and frustrating. I thought that maybe there was something to find in the dirt, and that by just throwing the dirt away Dad was forever discarding the possibility that he might find that something, and that it might be important. I found out later that Dad emptied the wheelbarrow on a side of the hill that our house stood on. I wanted to paw through all the piles of discarded dirt and make sure there wasn't anything there. : I played with sand at the beach. I dug holes in wet sand and was sure to press down every part of the hole so it was smooth and packed. If I were to let any part of the hole remain unpacked, I would have felt discontentment, so I was sure to pack every bit. After all, it wasn't really my hole until I had really explored it with my fingers. : I would pick up dry sand and let it pour bit by bit through the split between my two hands. Letting it pour through the splits between each of my fingers would have been wrong. The sand would have been pouring out in too many places. I would not have been able to inspect every bit of the sand as it poured out. The sand would have been out of control, and no use to me. : I played with blocks. Before I used a block I had to touch every part of it. I had to smear my hand all over every side of the block, and work my fingertips into the small crannies of the block. Then I would use it. I had to fully interact with it and get a good grasp of that block. Lining up one block and another block was also very important. The blocks had to be firmly contiguous or they were not right. Everything needed to be smooth and connected. When I put the blocks back in the box, I stacked them so they were densely packed into the corner. : I played with constructor sets and similar toys in the same way I played with blocks. : I ate lots of peanut butter sandwiches. I liked to chew them and make them stick to my mouth so that they formed a solid mass with no air bubbles. I also liked to get an end slice of the bread on the top of the sandwich so that the outer crust faced outwards. When I bit into a sandwich that was like that, it would stick to the top of my mouth like a coating of solid glue without my having to chew it. I liked that. : My dad took me out of preschool because a group of kids kept knocking over my blocks. I would come home in tears. I didn't want to leave preschool. I wasn't happy there, but by leaving it I might miss something. And leaving preschool just wasn't done. : I went through a phase where I experimented with my body. I learned to make "waves" on my stomach. I would hunch over so that my belly was compressed and there was the maximum layer of fat on top of the muscles. Then I would tense and relax my stomach muscles in waves, lower to upper. I liked to watch my belly undulate. I liked to feel my belly undulate. I learned to use my face and head muscles. I learned to move my scalp around. I discovered how to move my ears and eyebrows, flare my nostrils, and generally warp my face. I learned to "snap" my hands, snap my fingers, make clicking, clucking, and thrumming sounds in my mouth, burp whenever I wanted to, and whistle in three different ways. I interacted with my body, like I interacted with the objects in my environment, in every way I could. I felt oddly unfulfilled when I left something, or some part of something, unordered, untouched, or un-interacted with to my fullest potential. The body experimentation phase ended maybe around third grade, but I can still do all of these things now. : I wanted my hair to be one solid, contiguous mass. It often "puffed up," and I disliked that. I especially hated brushing my hair. Brushes only work on some of the hairs that they pass through, and I could feel the disorder left behind in the hairs that the brushes didn't straighten out. The unbrushed hair irritated me like rubbing on a balloon might. I always combed my hair instead. Combs penetrated right through all the layers of hair equally. I went through one phase where I wanted my hair continually wet so it would stick to itself. I carried around a little bottle of water and a toothbrush for this purpose. : One day in first grade it snowed. I looked out the window and saw the clean, smooth snow coating the playground. The smooth snow was a coherent whole. I felt that if even one person intruded one footprint onto that snow, the whole of the snow would be ruined. I didn't want anyone to touch the snow. Then the entire school went out for recess. When I looked out the window after recess, I saw the snow covered in footprints. But there were parts of the snow that were still smooth. The footprinted snow and the smooth snow grated against each other. I wanted to go out there and stamp down all the snow so it would be unified again. This is similar to wanting to touch all the dirt. If I stayed out of the cellar entirely and touched none of the dirt, everything would have been fine. But once I decided to tackle the challenge of touching the dirt, I didn't feel right until I touched all of it. : In math class in either second or third grade we were doing "patterns." We had little colored pattern blocks that would stick end-to-end. We had to pick a sequence of colors and repeat that sequence a few times to make a pattern. I loved making my patterns. I didn't want to stop. For a while I looked for patterns in everything. I noticed once, driving past a golf course, that the parked cars were blue-blue-red-blue-blue-red. I told that to my mom and she was pleased.
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