Tag: INFJ

Why I Write

Last week, I had an interaction with someone on Facebook that made me stop and seriously question why I write. The original post, a personal introduction in a group for people with the same Myers-Briggs Personality Type (MBTI), was made under my Facebook profile designated for this blog, The Curated Man. I have a personal Facebook profile as well, but that is used for my friends and family. I use my personal profile to post about personal things. You know, stuff about my kid, my wife, baseball, barbecue (real bbq…smoking and such). Things I won’t post about in a group with over 100,000 members.

While my introduction was widely met with warm welcomes, one person commented with a single word, “Advertisement.” Immediately realizing that they perceived my posting with my Curated Man profile as promoting my writing efforts, I tried to offer them an explanation in hopes that it would relieve the skepticism they might hold about my intentions. I receive no compensation for my little blog. They weren’t willing to concede ground on their assessment of me. I don’t judge them for being wary. However, the interaction did spur me into thinking more intently about the reasons I write.

The primary reason I write is completely selfish. It is a cathartic experience for me. It’s cheaper than therapy. In its simplest form, it is a journal. It allows me to take the random thoughts racing through my head, organize them in a coherent fashion, and create something tangible. It is my feeble attempt at artistic expression. If nobody reads what I write, that’s ok. I’ve still created something that is a reflection of me and the world we live in.

The second big reason that I choose to write is more altruistic. We live in a connected society, as much as some people wish they didn’t. Many are on a journey of trying to understand the world and themselves within that world. My family is well-versed in my experiences and philosophy, only able to withstand small doses of my ramblings. The reality is that most people are not interested in what I have to say. I’m fine with that. But maybe, out there somewhere, is someone on a journey similar to my own. With over 8 billion people on this planet, maybe there are some out there that could benefit by reading a few of my words. Statistically, there have to be at least 20 people out there that meet that criteria. So, for those who might stumble upon my little WordPress blog, I put my thoughts out into the world in hopes that it might in some way help them.

There is another reason I write. It’s another reason why I don’t just keep a private journal. As I make my 52nd trip around the Sun, there are countless times when I wish I could ask my parents for their advice. I wonder what they would have thought about a specific situation. I lost my dad when I was 21. I lost my Mom when I was 30. The older I become, the more I wish I had opportunities to know what they thought about life. Things I didn’t have the wisdom to ask when I was younger. One day, my daughter will likely find herself in the same position. How nice would it be if I could go back and read about what my parents thought about life? So, in that spirit, I will continue to string words together and commit my thoughts to a state of digital immortality. One day, after I’m gone, my daughter will at least have an opportunity to read about my thoughts.

I enjoy writing. There were times when I thought I could make a little extra money with my writing. I soon realized that in the blogging world, making money requires creating a lot of material. It requires consistently pumping out copious amounts of content, all in an effort to stay on the forethought of peoples’ minds. I soon found myself dreading the whole experience. What I created wouldn’t resonate with me. There was no joy. As a result, I decided not to use my blog in that manner. Perhaps one day, I’ll decide to write a book. Maybe, I won’t. As long as I still feel a spark of inspiration which occasionally results in a few paragraphs worthy of sharing, I’ll be just fine.

So, if you see me on social media as The Curated Man, know I’m not there for any purpose other than to interact with people. It means I chose to keep a little piece of myself reserved for those with whom I’ve developed some kind of relationship in the past. It’s merely a partition between my personal self and my less personal self.

The Unmasking of a Highly Sensitive Person

“GET YOUR GLOVE ON THE GROUND!” This was the refrain from my little league coach. At 12, I had just spent my first year in school, in the small town my parents had moved us to. During my brief number of years, I had lived and breathed baseball. Nobody needed to tell me to make sure my mitt was touching the dirt, when fielding a groundball. You have to keep the ball in front of you. It’s a fundamental rule. That day, however, I had let a string of five or six grounders go between my legs, to the aggravation of my coach. The more I told myself not to let the next one through, the more anxious I became. Eventually, I lost my composure and just started crying. I had tried to hold it back, but the harder I tried, the more difficult it became.

In retrospect, this is the first time I remember being confronted with an undeniable truth; I was a sensitive person. I spent the next 30 years trying to change what I, and apparently others, believed was a fault. I was too sensitive, especially for a guy. I did not like the fact that I felt deeply about some situations and struggled in environments that my peers did not seem to struggle with. I wasn’t about to tell anyone about how I cried when I watched the movie E.T. There was no way anyone would know how devastated I had become when I first experienced a broken heart in high school. As a police officer, how could I tell my peers that sometimes at the end of my shift, I would just sit in a dark room and cry until my body physically prevented me from going on. I didn’t let on that I couldn’t stand to look at photos of crime scenes or autopsies, at the risk of becoming sick to my stomach, not with disgust, but with empathy. I was battling what we now know as the Toughness Myth. 

In 2014, I stumbled upon the book The Highly Sensitive Person by Elaine Aron. While reading it, I immediately identified with nearly every indicator of a highly sensitive person. I struggled with receiving critical feedback. I became overwhelmed in certain environments. I took on the feelings of the people around me. I was easily moved by emotion. All of the characteristics I had come to believe were my faults or defects, were listed out right in front of me, clear as day. I was hopeful that the book would give me suggestions on how I could become less sensitive. If I had the right tools, I could surely learn to stop taking things so personally. After finishing the book, I was initially disappointed because it offered no practical ideas on how to stop being sensitive. It seemed as if this trait was simply a part of who I was. However, there was some comfort in hearing that about 20 to 30 percent of the world’s population are also classified as highly sensitive. 

Unfortunately, knowing that I was highly sensitive provided me little solace. I still felt compelled to mask my sensitivity, due to the Toughness Myth. In 2015, I left public service to start working in the private sector. Part of me thought that leaving the world of law enforcement and child welfare behind, the Toughness Myth would be less prevalent. I was mistaken. When receiving feedback from my leaders or peers, it all centered on one central point. I could become too emotional. I tried to explain that when I felt deeply about something, it could come across as being possibly confrontational, when in fact it was just deep feelings about things that others may not feel deeply about. Unfortunately, the more my motives were misunderstood, the more frustrated I would become. It seemed that trying to tell people about my high sensitivity was actually having the opposite effect. This, in turn, caused me to keep my sensitivity hidden safely away from all but those closest to me. Knowing that my sensitivity was something I could not change did little to prevent me from continuing to see it as a fault and a liability. 

Fortunately, I am a man of self-reflection. I have a rich and vibrant inner world of thought that I use to navigate the world. It’s no surprise that this is also a trait of highly sensitive people. I started learning more about highly sensitive people. I put a name to the Toughness Myth. I began to take the advice of other highly sensitive people and stop trying to change the fact that I was sensitive, unable to do so any more than I could change my height. I’ve come to recognize that the very trait that has caused me so much frustration in the past, is also responsible for some of my greatest gifts. The same sensitivity that causes me to dislike many stereotypical male endeavors (e.g. violent movies and extremely violent sports) is responsible for my ability to empathize with others so easily. My deep feelings about fairness, that others perceive as me being overly emotional, are what has allowed me to connect with those I’ve led, so effectively. That same sensitivity has allowed me to see beauty in the world, when others may only see chaos. I feel deeply, and that’s just who I am. 

So, why am I sharing this information with you? There’s no one, singular reason. It is partly due to the desire for people to better understand me, and other highly sensitive people. It also offers me the opportunity to reach other highly sensitive people, with a message of hope. After all, it’s likely that 1 in 3 people who read this are also highly sensitive people, whether they realize it or not. It is equally as likely for men to be highly sensitive as it is for women, breaking another leg of the Toughness Myth. And of course, with most of my writing, it serves as a cathartic experience for me. This is the next step in the acceptance of my sensitivity.

So there it is. The mask is off. I am a highly sensitive person. It is not a character defect. It is, like with all other natural gifts, imperfect. Of course, it is not superior to other gifts people may have. Being highly sensitive is no better or worse than what would be classified as a “normal” level of sensitivity. It is simply a part of who I am and how I experience the world, as is the fact that I’m an introvert and that I have fair skin. It is responsible for my appreciation of nature and all things beautiful. Some people may not understand the concept, whether because of the Toughness Myth or lack of a frame of reference due to their own level of sensitivity. But it should not be squirreled away. The world needs more sensitivity, not less; and I am here for it.

My Soundtrack Part VII: All I Really Want 2013 to Present…And Beyond

As this series approaches its conclusion, it should be clear to all how important music is in my life. Famed artist Jean-Michel Basquiat brilliantly stated, “Art is how decorate space, music is how we decorate time.” It’s a universal medium that reflects who we are as a person. It tells our story, even if it is often abstract. It is accessible to nearly every person, regardless of circumstance. Just as the books we read and the people we associate with tell a story of who we are, music can open the same door into a person’s soul.

So, cover me up, and know you’re enough to use me for good…

By 2013, I was 40 years old. Looking back, I can recognize that beyond this point, I didn’t incorporate any new hard rock or metal artists into my soundtrack. It’s not to say that I didn’t occasionally feel the urge to listen to the genre. I just simply didn’t identify with the new music that was being made. There was no connection. It wasn’t illustrative of who I was at that point in my life. Instead, I turned to more subdued sounds. Artists like Jason Isbell and Brandi Carlile began finding their way into my listening rotation. In my opinion, Isbell’s Cover Me Up and Carlile’s The Story are two of the best songs released in the past 20 years. Both are lessons in the songwriting craft and filled to the brim with emotion. Both were reflective of who I had become by this point in my life.

Another musical highlight during this period didn’t involve any specific artists. As my daughter became a little older, she started to develop her own musical identity. Even at an early age, it was clear that she possessed a knack for artistic expression through music. As a toddler, she would often break into impromptu performances for people, including strangers. Any elevated platform became a stage. It would turn that shy, timid little girl into an entirely different person. As such, we did what any thoughtful parents would do. We made her promise she would never play drums and sent her off to music lessons. Piano lessons turned into voice lessons. To this day, music remains one of the few topics that she and I can talk about, with enthusiasm and clarity.

As our daughter became a pre-teen, a familiar musical outlet would return, with a twist. We began to introduce the child to live music. Excluding a Kids Bop concert in 2013, the first real show we took her to was Taylor Swift. We tried to reach a happy medium when choosing shows. We would drag her to see Matchbox Twenty and Counting Crows. At the child’s urging, we would see Fall Out Boy. I finally got a chance to see Alanis Morissette live. Just as I enjoyed watching my wife dance around at a concert, I experienced the same joy watching my teenage daughter do the same.

Now solidly a trio, we introduced our daughter to musical theater. Prior to meeting my wife, I had only been to one Broadway touring production. As a couple, we were fortunate enough to catch Phantom of the Opera on Brodaway, during our first trip to New York City together. It started with touring productions of some of the Disney musicals. In 2015, we took her to see Aladin on Broadway. By 2021, we had season tickets to national touring productions, here in Phoenix. The child loved it. She loved it so much that she decided she wanted to perform on stage herself. At 14, she began performing publicly. When it was time for high school, we would send her to a performing arts school, that offered a college-level theater program. Today, at 16, I’m firmly convinced she could front a successful band. I couldn’t write this series without including her as one of my favorite vocalists to listen to.

Having a musically inclined teenager in the house has had other influences on the music I choose to listen to. Through my daughter, I’ve discovered other contemporary artists that I would most likely never have given much thought to. Hozier and Noah Kahan are perfect examples of this influence. As I write, perhaps the band I’m most excited about is boygenius. If you haven’t caught their first full studio album, The Record, you’re missing out. Their performance Satanist on this past weekend’s airing of Saturday Night Live was one of the best I’ve seen in several years. Then again, I’m a sucker for great harmonies and artists that write their own material.

Now that my musical preferences have been laid bare, for all to see, I find myself asking questions about why my personal soundtrack is the way it is. What attracts me to a specific song, genre, or artist? Are there patterns? What comes next? Why do I enjoy the Eagles more than Don Henley as a solo artist? Does my personality influence the music I like?

As I ponder these questions, there are some clues as to the answers. Obviously, environmental exposure has an influence. I doubt I would have developed a love for the Eagles without ample exposure to their music by my older brother. It’s unlikely that I would have attached to Hair Metal the way I did if my friends at the time weren’t entrenched in the music. However, environmental exposure alone cannot explain other patterns that have emerged.

Another pattern that has become apparent to me, is that I prefer artists that write and record their own music. While I can appreciate an artist’s vocal and musical talent, there is an authenticity present when they write their own material. It’s my bias, and I own that. It also takes nothing away from artists who record other people’s songs. It’s just my preference.

I’ve also noticed that I gravitate towards bands over solo artists. As illustrations, I prefer to listen to the Eagles or Matchbox Twenty over solo works by Don Henley or Rob Thomas. It’s not that I don’t like the solo artists. Boys of Summer by Don Henley is one of my favorite songs from the mid-80s, but even that was co-written by Mike Campbell from Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers. There is something about the collaborative songwriting process that can create absolute magic. Without the influences of Kyle Cook and Paul Doucette, It’s unlikely I would have otherwise been drawn to the songwriting of Rob Thomas and Matchbox Twenty. If a band can put forward multiple vocalists, like The Beatles, the Eagles, and boygenius, that’s even more impressive. As much as this element influences the music I have enjoyed throughout life, it doesn’t hold up as an answer all on its own.

And all I need now is intellectual intercourse, a soul to dig the hole much deeper…

This brings me to another factor…does my personality impact the music I like. My Myers-Brigg Type Indicator (MBTI) is INFJ. I’m a sensitive introvert and as such, I spend copious amounts of time within my own head. I suspect that music that would be considered introspective in nature, possess a natural allure to me. I can get lost in my own mind while examining the lyrics of a song. I’m a sucker for the skilled crafting of language. Songs that employ symbolism and metaphors are most likely going to interest me. The allegorical nature of many musical theater songs fascinates me. It’s not that I can’t enjoy a feel-good song of a less cerebral nature, as evidenced by my love of 80s Hair Metal, but it also explains why it’s not a genre of music I listen to frequently any longer. My personality preference wants a deeper connection, much like how I view personal relationships. For this reason, I usually find myself gravitating to the introspective songs of Gen-X.

A great example of how my personality influences my musical taste would be in examining the songwriting of Alanis Morissette. As I have come to understand myself better, and my MBTI, I have come to terms with the fact that I’m not a great example of what appeals to the masses. INFJ is considered the rarest of the MBTIs, with somewhere between 1 to 3 percent of the world’s population falling into this category. Break it down further, and being an INFJ male is even more uncommon (Most INFJs are women). I can be an enigma when people try to get to know me. In fact, the number of people on this earth that I consider close enough to actually understand who I am, can be counted on one hand. When I look at my soundtrack, there is only one artist out there that I listen to, whose lyrics come close to explaining how I think; fellow INFJ Alanis Morissette.

Two songs off Alanis Morissette’s Jagged Little Pill are the closest I’ve found that describe who I am. Every word in her song, All I Really Want, captures my desires in life. I have to wonder if Alanis knew she was an INFJ when she wrote that song with Glen Ballard. Being in her 20s when she wrote the song, it’s unlikely she knew. However, when I listen to those words, nothing has captured who I am, nearly as perfect as she did. Her song One Hand In My Pocket also hits close to home. I can be a walking contradiction. I’m equally comfortable watching football as I am watching a Broadway musical. I love humanity, but I can develop a severe distaste for people. I can be as steady as a rock in a crisis, but become overwhelmed with the unplanned trivial things in life. I cannot imagine failing to find a connection in the songs she writes. I’m thankful that there is someone out there like me, who is infinitely more creative than I am, that can speak my truth for the world to try and understand.

Where will my soundtrack go from here? I do not know for certain, but I imagine that the factors I’ve listed above will play a role. I know that I’ll always enjoy listening to my daughter sing. I can’t imagine not enjoying live music with my wife. I am excited to realize that even with 50 years under my belt, there are established artists that I’ve yet to appreciate. I’m also confident that whatever new music I come to enjoy will share similar introspective qualities as I love in Counting Crows and Jason Isbell. I’m not sure I’ll ever connect with another Alanis though. Perhaps, in another 10 years or so, I’ll share another chapter of my musical journey. Until then, my desire is that you take a few moments and think about the soundtrack of your own life. Ask yourself why you like the music you do. Does it connect you to a special time in your life? Does it remind you of a specific person? Does it give people a glimpse into your own mind? How well do you know yourself? Can music help you with your own self-discovery? There are no right answers, just as there is no right or wrong music. What is important is that we decorate time with our music. Appreciation for the arts is intrinsically human. I encourage each of you to embrace it, reflect upon it, and if gifted enough, create some yourself.

My Soundtrack Part VI: Accidentally In Love 2004 – 2012

When we look back on our lives, it’s often easy to identify the moments that forever altered the trajectory that our lives have taken. It’s not so easy to appreciate the significance of those moments as they happen in real time. So it was on June 21, 2004, when a beautiful girl smiled at me amongst a crowd of people. Soon, that girl and I would become inseparable. As I write this, we’ve been married for 17 years. It was never supposed to happen, as both of us had sworn off any thoughts of a serious relationship. Yet, we found ourselves accidentally in love.

Well, baby what am I up to, getting back into, another thing I’d never do…

That Summer, Counting Crows had released a single off the Shrek 2 soundtrack, aptly named Accidentally In Love. While it is by no means my favorite Counting Crows song, it will forever hold a special place in my memories. I have conflicted feelings about the Universe sending me signs. As a rule, I lean much harder toward scientific explanations for what would otherwise be considered omens, yet here was this melodic harbinger of what was to come.

I never would have opened up, but you seemed so real to me…

For the first time, I found myself in a relationship where there was musical congruency. While not identical, our tastes had a significant overlap. Yes, I tended to have more rock preferences and she was slanted toward pop music, but where those sounds met was a beautiful convergence of mutual appreciation. She had a connection to music as well. In fact, the whole concept of a personal soundtrack that accompanies our lives was brought to me by her. And while we cataloged the music a little differently, I found a connection in her love of music.

We also both enjoyed live music. There is an energy associated with a great concert that I’ve yet to see duplicated. I suppose it is similar to the feelings a sports fan feels when invested in an important game, but a concert doesn’t bring with it the anxiety that accompanies a sporting event. There are no winners or losers at a concert. Just a group of people sharing a collective emotional experience. To this day, few things bring me as much joy as watching my wife enjoying herself, especially at a concert.

In July of that Summer, she took me to see Sarah McLachlan, our first concert together. That same month, I brought her to see Don Henley. That cycle would continue throughout the next couple of years. She would take me to my first U2 concert. I would introduce her to Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers and Circus Mexicus. She would take me to see the Rolling Stones and Tom Petty. I’d drag her to see Poison and Cinderella. When not watching national touring acts, we were following local cover bands all around the Phoenix area. We were building memories, almost always finding music tightly woven into each experience. Another new memory was about to be made, as life was about to throw us a curveball. After proposing to my wife in July of 2006, I came home from work five days later to the news that she was pregnant.

Soon reason will have rhyme, soon wisdom will imply…

Both in our 30s, it was obvious that becoming parents would alter our priorities. The chapter of our lives that saw us enjoying live music multiple nights a week would be closing. I’m not complaining, the upcoming chapters are pretty awesome. All the same, it would be almost two years between seeing Tom Petty in 2006 and our next concert, a weekend away at Circus Mexicus in 2008. Of course, that doesn’t mean that music left our lives.

Aside from new material from artists I’ve already written about, there was a new set of artists that was ready to make their debut on my playlist. The Foo Fighters were hitting their stride while bands like Fall Out Boy, The Killers, and The Raconteurs offered fresh new takes for my rock tastebuds. On the poppier side of the melodic spectrum, there was what I dub as the Grey’s Anatomy sound. Think of bands like Snow Patrol, Matt Nathanson, and O.A.R. I still enjoy these bands, yet as with the bands from the early 2000s, the majority of these bands belonged to Millenials. I never developed the same connection with them as I did with my music from the 90s.

And it’s all downhill from here, the curves are sharp and the cliffs are sheer…

Our daughter was born in the Spring of 2007. As you can expect, the transition from a 30-something guy with no children to a 30-something guy with a brand-new baby was a transformative experience. Fortunately, many of the bands that I learned to love in the 90s were also going through their own transformative journeys. The bands that once were writing songs about fumbling through relationships, were now penning songs about relational success. They were writing songs about becoming parents themselves. As I was growing older, so were the themes of the music I listened to. Sattelite by Collective Soul and Small World by Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers are perfect examples of this perspective shift. A natural side effect of that maturation is the mellowing of music I started to enjoy. A note to 20-year-old me: In fact, it can at times be too loud.

With that mellowing occurring, there were a couple other bands that started to make their way into my repertoire. I really enjoyed The Lumineers debut album, incorporating some alternative folk into my soundtrack. I also appreciated the song-crafting efforts of Mumford & Sons. It’s crazy how a British band was able to capture their Americana sound.

Eventually, we would tap back into our love of live music, once again putting more effort into seeing bands that we enjoyed. Of course, the frequency would never be like it was from 2004 to 2006. One new and wonderful twist to that formula would be the addition of a third person into our concert equation. I’d find a new layer of joy in watching my daughter discover the same musical magic that her mother and I had stumbled upon!

Up Next: My Soundtrack Party VII – All I Really Want 2013 to Present

My Soundtrack Part IV: Recovering The Satellites

If the previous four years had been a musical desert, 1995 and 1996 would be a rainforest of new music. In no other period had I broadened the number of contemporary musical artists I would learn to love. It is undoubtedly the broadest expansion of new music in my life. I finally started to pay attention to the Gin Blossoms, as their sophomore record received the attention it deserved. Likewise, Collective Soul would release their sophomore album, packed full of hooky guitar riffs and an occasional kick in the ass not seen in their debut album. I appreciated the fact they had three guitar players, and the way they layered them in their songwriting still amazes me. Their hit December is great example of the guitar complexity.

I even softened towards some grunge bands. I could definitely appreciate the musical craftsmanship of Pearl Jam. Alice in Chains and Stone Temple Pilots put out some legitimately good rock songs. On the fringes of grunge were Lisa Loeb, Veruca Salt, and the Cranberries; powerful female voices who could command one’s imagination. But a new female superstar was about to be introduced to American audiences, from our frozen neighbors to the North. She was in a class all by herself.

And what I wouldn’t give to find a soul mate? Someone else to catch this drift. And what I wouldn’t give to meet a kindred?…

One hot day in the Summer of 1995, I was watching MTV in the cool confines of my climate-controlled home. Just as those in cold climates don’t leave their houses in the Winter, in Phoenix, we do not leave our houses from June through August. Unless, of course, you have a swimming pool. I didn’t have a pool, so I often would pull the shades on the windows to keep out as much of the blistering Sun as possible, and watch MTV in my well decorated cave. The first time I heard Alanis Morissette belt out the chorus to You Oughta Know, my jaw dropped. Her mezzo-soprano voice was at times whistful, while having the ability to knock you over with her powerful belt. Throw in excellent songwriting, and the ingredients for an iconic rock album were all there. Jagged Little Pill would help define 90s music.

A punk rock band out of Buffalo, New York would tweak their sound ever so slightly and produce the silliest named album of the year. A Boy Named Goo would earn the Goo Goo Dolls national acclaim, with their hit Name. But the album also featured legitimate rockers like Long Way Down, Naked, and Flat Top. They would go out on tour with Bush to support the album. The two bands offered a fresh new face to modern rock.

It would be easy to sum up 1995 with just the bands in the paragraphs above. That would be a serious disservice to bands like Better Than Ezra, Seven Mary Three, Everclear, and Spacehog as they debuted to a national audience. Gen-X was coming into adulthood and started staking out their spot in a world run by Baby Boomers. With that, came perhaps the most common underlying theme of the music we listened to: Angst. It provided the backbone for some pretty impressive songwriters, to remind the world that there was a price to be paid for the decadence of the 80s.

We could all wear ripped up clothes, and pretend that we’re Dead Hot Workshop…

1996 was not ready to let up on the gas. The national airwaves were finally exposed to a quirky, beloved band that those who followed the Tempe music scene knew well. The Refreshments released their major label debut, Fizzy Fuzzy Big & Buzzy in 1996. The Refreshments were the second Tempe band to receive significant national exposure, after the Gin Blossoms. To describe their sound is difficult; you really need to listen to it for yourself. Imagine a cerebral poet crafting some skater punk rock, filtering it through the dusty sand of the Sonoran Desert, and infusing it with a legit pop melody vibe. Throw in a kazoo and you have the essence of their unique sound. Their debut album remains one of my favorites, earning Desert Island consideration. Both The Refreshments and the Gin Blossoms enjoyed the wave of a fresh new sound, but they were just two of a some great bands that exemplified the Tempe music scene; specifically Dead Hot Workshop and The Pistoleros.

Other great bands also made their way to the mainstream 90s rock scene in 1996 and 1997. Tonic, The Wallflowers, Everclear, and Dishwalla were new and making a name for themselves with strong debut albums. Counting Crows released their second album, Recovering the Satellites, a solid follow-up to August and Everything After. They were one of many bands who had produced follow-ups to their successful first albums. The era of what would be categorized 90s Alt-Rock was at its peak, with more great music to come. One new band out of Florida would define 1997 for me.

She grabs her magazines, she packs her things and she goes…

As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, I have a tendency to deep dive into things that I have a profound interest in. It is a characteristic of my INFJ personality type.. After seeing the video for their first single Long Day playing in a Blockbuster Video store, I didn’t hold out much hope for Matchbox 20. While the song was catchy with a bit of an edge, the music video didn’t quite capture my attention. Apparently, it didn’t capture the attention of many people. Their debut album, Yourself or Someone Like You, wasn’t selling and they were playing to nearly empty clubs. It was over six months after the album’s release before their second single, Push, would start to get some significant radio air play. I first heard the song on the radio while driving from Phoenix to Tucson. I immediately loved it, rare for me the first time that I hear a song. The next day, I bought the CD. I lived in those songs for the next two years. So did over 10 million other Americans, as the album achieved the exclusive Diamond status. I dove deep, analyzing the lyrics of each song, over and over again. When I had the opportunity to meet their lead singer and principle songwriter Rob Thomas in 2011, my first words to him were, “I hope I don’t faint.” While my tongue was firmly planted in my cheek, we had a good laugh and he pulled me in for big hug.

Matchbox 20 didn’t have a monopoly on Gen-X angst, but I personally connected with their songwriting more than any artist before. These guys were my age. They were singing about the challenges and disillusionment many in our generation were experiencing. We were all out in the real world now, trying to figure life out. We were starting relationships and doing what we thought people do in relationships, only to find out we were so wrong about so much. Everything we were thinking and feeling was tied up into a 46 minute and 43 second package of Gen-X melodies, warts and all.

As the 90s came to an end, so would the sound that dominated the Alt Rock scene. Collective Soul gave us their third studio album, which was just as infectious as their breakout second record. Dishwalla, Better than Ezra, and Seven Mary Three recorded some great second albums. A few other new bands also found their way into my CD collection. Eve 6, The Flys, and Harvey Danger were all noteworthy additions. But the musical landscape was about to change again, as the 90s came to an end. Many of the bands here would continue making music into the next century. Counting Crows and Matchbox 20 would see continued commercial success. One of the keys to their continued success was that their songwriting continued to mature along with their audience. In the years to come, records full of angst would give way to stories of acceptance and enlightenment. Both bands continue to show a reflection of a generation, albeit with a tad more gray hair visible.

As I dash my ship upon your shore, a mad-drunk and reckless troubadour…

The upcoming years would see my musical tastes broaden and mellow. I would experience my last dalliance with new, hard rock music. As the bands that dominated the Tempe music scene broke up, a new Arizona super group would rise from their ashes to establish a near cult like following. I would never again saturate my musical mind with new artists like I had in the 90s. A new century awaited, with new priorities.

Next up: My Soundtrack Part V – Green and Dumb

My Soundtrack Part III: The Dark Ages 1991 – 1994

It was February of 1991. I had just turned 18 and was nearing the end of my Senior year of high school. I lived in Northeastern Arizona, a three-hour drive from the nearest big city, Phoenix. Somehow, I convinced my parents that it was ok to drive to Phoenix with 3 of my friends, to watch my first concert; Poison and Warrant, at the Arizona State University Activity Center. After the show, we would drive the 3 hours back home. All on a school night. The concert was amazing. My parents’ judgment was a little shaky. I felt like an adult, and I gladly went to school the next morning, wearing my new concert tee.

Oh well, whatever, never mind…

I moved to the Phoenix area that Summer, to start college the following Fall. The world was full of possibilities. I finally had cable television, and by extension, MTV. Let the good times roll! In September of 1991, I was contently watching MTV, waiting for the next great Hair Metal music video to play. What I saw and heard was a serious wake-up call. That was the first time I heard Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” While it didn’t sound like what I usually listened to, I couldn’t help but bang my head along during the chorus. It was infectious. The Grunge era had arrived.

As for new music, that Fall was like someone opening up a fire hydrant and letting the water flood your mind. Along with Nirvana, Pearl Jam would hit the mainstream with their album “Ten.” Metallica and Guns n’ Roses both released new albums. I bought them all, of course. At the time, I didn’t anticipate that my beloved Hair Metal would fall by the wayside. I simply thought this was extra. Needless to say, I was wrong about that. The world was changing. Society simply had enough of the non-stop party vibe of the 80s. It seemed that music, as with all art, was a reflection of who we are as a society. The world was changing. Mine was about to as well.

The Autumn leaves have got you thinking, about the first time that you fell…

On a characteristically pleasant October, Sonoran Desert evening, my Dad and I were watching Game 7 of the 1991 National League Championship game, between the Pirates and the Braves. We were interrupted by a knock on our front door. It was my brother-in-law and he had terrible news. My 16 year old nephew had killed himself. I only saw my father cry on a handful of occasions. This was one of them. We all cried. My nephew was only two years younger than I was. In many ways, he was more my little brother than he was my nephew, because of how close we were in age. My whole family was devastated.

Aside from the acute consequences of a traumatic loss, looking back on my life, I realize that I had entered a long term, depressive period. It certainly impacted my world view and I realize now that it influenced the music I would listen to. I lost excitement for new music. In retrospect, I associated this new Grunge sound from Seattle with some signifcant negative emotions. Of course this was an unfair association, but it stuck. Nirvana and Pearl Jam came to represent the loss of the innocence I had recently endured.

In the years to follow, I would fruitlessly hold on to bands like Poison and Warrant. There were a few bands who were still touring together, trying to milk every ounce of magic they could find out of the 80s. While I couldn’t get excited about new music, I was still pouring myself into what I knew. From 1991 to 1994, I would attend more concerts than at any other time in my life. But by 1993, the Hair Metal bands were hanging up their acts, or spiraling into oblivion. Some tried to alter their sound, to be closer in tone to the Grunge sound that dominated the airwaves.

During this time, instead of looking for new music to become excited about, I began to revisit bands from the 70s and 80s that I didn’t pay as much attention to when I was younger. I would dive deep into bands like Van Halen, Journey, Foreigner, and Aerosmith. Unknown to me at the time, this type of deep dive came naturally to my personality type. The music may not have been new, but it was there during a dark period in my young life.

I even tried Country music again. I figured if I liked Willie and Waylon, I could learn to like some of the contemporary Country artists. I tried. I even bought my first pair of boots and my very own Stetson hat. But it wasn’t authentic. I can laugh at myself now. While some of the music was good, it wasn’t my reflection in the songs. That is, until a collective of Country artists came together to pay tribute to a legendary band, that had help shape their own musical tastes; the Eagles. The 1993 album “Common Threads: The Songs of the Eagles” brought all of those songs I loved as a child, back into the view of a new generation. Better yet, members of the Eagles had come together for the first time since their breakup in 1980, to appear in Travis Tritt’s version of their hit “Take it Easy.” Not long after that appearance, it was announced that the Eagles were reuniting for a new album and tour. Hell had frozen over. This, I could get excited about. Once again, I dove deep, rediscovering their music.

A long December, and there’s reason to believe, maybe this year will be better than the last…

Time for another reality check. In December of 1993, my Dad was diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer. If losing my nephew two years earlier hadn’t broken me, this surely would. The prognosis was not good. At 20 years old, I made preparations to say goodbye to the most important man in my life. The ensuing Spring and Summer were the darkest times I had known to that point. When I wasn’t making destructive decisions, I was usually on auto-pilot. I don’t remember being curious, much less curious about new music. If not for the anticipation of the Eagles going on tour that Summer, I doubt I would remember much about the music of that time.

Though I wasn’t in a spot to be receptive, there was new music out there that I would eventually fall in love with. What I didn’t notice at the time, was that a new sound was beginning to take shape, distinctly different than Grunge. The Gin Blossoms released their debut album in 1992. These guys were from Tempe, home of Arizona State University. They had a unique post-grunge, pop-rock sound with a tinge of country, unique to the Tempe music scene. They even had a hit song, “Mrs. Rita” named after a local fortune teller, just a block off the college campus.

Counting Crows released their debut album in 1993. Songs like “Round Here” and “Anna Begins” were emotionally driven songs about taking on the real world and the relationships that accompany such an endeavor. They didn’t sound like anyone else on the music scene. Though they didn’t land their hooks into me then, it was the start of a new musical discovery for me. I didn’t appreciate them in that time. I was too busy trying to navigate my own entry into the real world. I could not begin my exploration into new music until I was released from the sadness of watching a parent die a little bit, every single day. On September 17, 1994, my Dad died. I felt like I had hit rock bottom. Of course, I was nowhere near rock bottom. I knew no better at the age of 21.

Give me a word, give me a sign. Show me where to look, tell me what will I find?

I did my best to keep myself busy. Life had to go on. Aerosmith was touring that Fall and they would be making a stop in Phoenix in October of 1994. It was a welcome distraction. Opening that show was a brand new band out of Georgia, supporting their first single, which was in heavy rotation on MTV. As I waited, anticipating Aerosmith’s set, Collective Soul hit the stage. They were different. It sounded like Southern Rock and Grunge had a baby. I liked it! I liked new music again! I liked the entirty of their 45 minute set! Something changed that night. Excitement about new music had returned to my life. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was ready to take on the world again. Yes, the past 3 years were awful. Life had changed. But, I had to keep growing. Along the way, I’d find new bands to deep dive on, Collective Soul being one of them.

Next Up: Part IV Recovering the Sattelites: 1994 – 2000

Nothin’ But a Good Time: 1985 – 1991

I have always had difficulty making friends. It is still true today. Thankfully, today I do not view this as a negative. I now recognize that for me, depth is more important than breadth, when it comes to friends. When I was a kid, that was not the case. So obviously, the best thing to do for a child who doesn’t make friends easily, is to pick them up and move them away from the only neighborhood they ever knew. Don’t just move them out of the neighborhood, you should take them from the city, and move them to rural America. And that’s how I eventually turned to a life of crime.

Those of you keeping score know that I, in fact, did not turn to a life of crime. At least not yet. However, at 11, with my parents moving us to a tiny community in Northeastern Arizona, it sure felt like a disastrous decision that I would surely pay a high price for…in the form of therapy much later in life. Indeed, it took several years for me to find my place in this new home. Friends were few and far between. But there was kindness and today, I still stay in touch with a few of my classmates from my middle and high school days.

The first kind person to establish a friendship with me was Preston Bigler. I recently reconnected with Preston and I let him know that I appreciated the kindness he showed that new kid back then. I also let him know that I wished I had shown him that same kindness back then, telling him how much I appreciated his friendship. When I look back on those days now, I realize that one of the first bonds we made centered around music. I would learn a valuable lesson from that all too brief friendship with Preston; that of the unifying power of one of the most personal, inner representations of the self we can make as human beings: The music we choose to listen to.

By this time, I was starting to take my sense of self out on more and more test drives. This is when I realized I liked girls. I also really liked music. I started noticing that girls liked guys who made music. If Billy Joel and Ric Ocasek were pairing up with supermodels, there was hope for all of us. Please don’t judge. I was a pre-teen boy, that liked to think about the big picture. With this newfound knowledge, I began to curate my own musical tastes. While I would never leave the Eagles or my Dad’s musical tastes behind, I wasn’t going to land Christie Brinkley with the arrows I currently had in my quiver.

Well time slips away, and leaves you with nothing mister, but boring stories of Glory Days…

I started listening to pop radio for the first time, branching out from the stuff I had been exposed to up to that point. We didn’t have cable/satellite television, so there was no MTV for me. I was relegated to watching “Friday Night Videos” in order to catch 60-90 minutes of music videos each week. It was still fascinating for me. That Christmas, my parents gave me my first, contemporary rock album: Springsteen’s “Born in the U.S.A.” From that point on, my discretionary income was usually dedicated to one of two things; music or girls. Oddly, that still mostly checks out.

You know I like my girls a little bit older…

I started buying albums in 1985. Wham’s “Make it Big”, followed shortly after by Tears for Fears’ “Songs From the Big Chair”; they were the first two. “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” was the first song during this time that I obsessed over when I first heard it on the radio. Mr. Mister, Dire Straits and The Outfield soon followed. I still turn up the radio when The Outfield’s “Your Love” is played.

Preston, whom we met a few paragraphs ago, made me copies of albums by Heart, Chicago, and the Thompson Twins. One thing that a less than vibrant social life affords, is an adequate amount of time alone in one’s room to listen to music. And that’s just what I did. Today, certain songs will take me directly back to that tiny, middle school bedroom. I came down with chicken pox at the end of 7th grade and missed the final three weeks of school. I listened to a ton of music in those three weeks. It was around this time that I first started hearing and seeing what would affectionately be called Hair Metal, when watching Friday Night Videos. The first to land their “hook” in me was Bon Jovi’s “You Give Love a Bad Name.”

If you could hear me think, this is what I’d say…

Bands like Poison, Ratt, Cinderella, and Warrant became the center of my music universe. This genre of music was many things. It was brash and rebellious. It was devil may care and created imagery of life being one big party. In attendance at this party: Girls, Girls, Girls. When not singing about girls, they were singing about rebellion and non-conformity. There were nuances between the party vibe of Poison and the more primal sounds of Guns and Roses and Skid Row. Again, I beg of you to remember that as a teenager, my personality had yet to develop into the rich and complex depths it has reached today. Now, I’m just happy to attend parties with one girl.

The world was new and exciting with all of this music to discover. It was also becoming clear that music was my bridge to making friends. It is that universal of a concept. Around the end of middle school, I decided to learn how to play the bass guitar after a brief but, successful affair with the cello. It was all part of my master plan to become the most charming and irresistible man in the world. Please re-read the section above about Billy Joel and Ric Ocasek.

By high school, Def Leppard’s “Hysteria” would become a phenomenon. They were less in your face than most of the other bands I was listening to. By that time in their career, they were a bit older. They threw in a tiny touch of social awareness, and that appealed to me. Plus, the girls really liked them. I implore you for even more forgiveness. The lack of depth in my motivation during this time still carries with it a tinge of embarrassment. I assure you that the sharing of my shallowness is nonetheless accurate.

By my junior year in high school, this decadent and rebellious chapter in my musical odyssey was nearing its apex and rapid, unavoidable demise. The year before, a couple of my classmates had formed a garage band. Two of those guys were in the school’s Jazz Band with me. As it happens, they were looking for someone to play bass. So, music was again a bridge spanning over the canyon separating me from a legitimate shot at a social life. Granted, that social life was in a small town, but it was about as vibrant as anybody else in the town possessed.

Paint a picture of the days gone by…

I graduated high school in May of 1991. Hair Metal was still reigning supreme, consisting of the most requested artists on MTV. I had finally clawed my way up the social ladder, as far as my musical prowess would take me. Few predicted what 1991 would bring to the world of music. We were all still riding high on the party that was The 80s. We never anticipated a gritty, emotionally infused sound, popular in Seattle, would be taking over and defining the soul of an entire generation. On a personal level, I never could foresee the loss I would experience that Fall. The party was coming to an end. Thankfully, music would eventually return to me, building more bridges along the way. My relationship with music would mature. I would mature. The real world was waiting.

Up Next: The Dark Ages: 1991 to 1994

Warm Smell of Colitas – 1973 to 1985

I am almost 13 years younger than my next oldest sibling. This soon will become relevant. My parents’ musical interests were solidly in the country category. Actually, in retrospect, I’m not really sure what my Mom’s musical tastes were, beyond those of my Dad. The vinyl in our home was curated by my Dad. The smell of a vinyl record still evokes nostalgic feelings of warmth, tying back to my earliest memories of my Dad’s record collection. He had an affinity for bluegrass, but the artists that stood out to me were the deceased artists. He loved artists like Jim Reeves and Patsy Cline, both of whom died young in plane crashes. Throw in some George Jones, Tammy Wynette, and Loretta Lynn, and you get the general idea of his musical tastes.

Hey, you don’t know me, but you don’t like me.

This, of course, meant that any contemporary music I listened to around my parents was created/performed by country artists of that time frame. I was born in 1973, so my earliest memories of contemporary music were artists like Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings, Willie Nelson, and Merle Haggard. I list these artists because I truly enjoyed the music. My country roots definitely fall into the rebellious, anti-establishment country of the day, with the Outlaw music of Cash, Jennings, and Nelson, along with the Bakersfield sound of Haggard and Buck Owens. The sounds were gritty, with the clang of a Fender Telecaster rattling behind some iconic songwriters and vocalists. Put Willie and Waylon together, and some true magic happened.

That was my dad’s contribution. During the early years of my childhood, there was one other person who influenced the music I would listen to and love to this day: my older brother. As mentioned, he is almost 13 years older than I am. He was my only sibling still at home during the first seven years of my life. He was also the one who would be left with the responsibility of babysitting his younger brother when our parents were otherwise engaged. He, too, loves music. Let’s just say that he didn’t listen to George Jones or Loretta Lynn very often. It was the mid-70s, and he was fighting his own rebellion against the world. As I remember it, as soon as the two of us were alone, the television went off and the stereo was turned on. I still smell the rich vinyl today as I write this. That, and well…a more pungent aroma.

Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air.

With my brother came the powerful guitars and vocals of Boston. To this day, I cannot hear “More Than a Feeling” without the hair standing up on the back of my neck. There was the prog rock sounds of Kansas and the operatic offerings of Queen. I was banging my head to “Bohemian Rhapsody” long before Wayne and Garth introduced it to the majority of my generation, as young adults in the early ’90s. However, none of those artists compared to the band that I would associate most with my childhood, the Eagles. There was one album that my brother would put on that would leave me riveted. Hearing the raspy voice of Don Henley sing about the warm smell of “colitas,” rising up through the air in “Hotel California” left me mesmerized. To this day, it’s one of the strongest connections I have with my brother.

The Eagles would follow me into my adult life. I would become intimately familiar with their entire catalog of work. As a young adult, I would disengage from contemporary music, which we’ll explore later. The Eagles however, came along with me. Their songs were the first I learned to play on guitar. I knew of no other band that could harmonize quite like they could. The songwriting was complex and a tiny bit cerebral. Later in life I realized that the dynamic songwriting relationship between Don Henley (introspective and cerebral) and Glenn Frey (energetic and in your face) was the source of much of that complexity. It was the source of their magic. To me, they are in the same company as McCartney/Lennon and Simon/Garfunkel. As we travel along, it would become apparent to me that I gravitated towards bands and songwriting collaborators. The group dynamic has created the most magical music for me.

After my brother moved out of our home, I often had to find ways to enjoy what would be on the car radio when my parents were driving or whatever artist would be appearing weekly on Hee Haw. Country artists like Kenny Rogers and Alabama were staples during the early 80s. At some point during this timeframe, I got my first cassette player. Being incredibly in touch with what 7-year-old boys would enjoy for music, my parents bought me my first cassette tapes. We’ll not spend too much time on this segment as those cassette tapes were a collection of television theme songs, and a light-hearted collection of 60s & 70s country/pop songs. Still, I would spend hours listening to the theme song from M.A.S.H. and Jeannie C. Riley’s 1968 chartbuster, “Harper Valley P.T.A.” I was 7, what did I know?

Fortunately for me, and those of you that are following along, my musical interests would broaden greatly. Next up, we’ll look how the mid 80s through early 90s treated me. These would be my most formidable years, from age 11, into my early 20s. This period would include the first music which was primarily curated by me. Today, it’s still an era that I find myself visiting from time to time, though I view it through a much different lens today.

Up next: Nothin’ But a Good Time

Roll Down The Window and Turn the Radio Up

I’ve always had a deep desire to be understood. I’m sure it stems from going through the majority of my life believing that few people actually did understand me. You pick the group, I was always a bit different than everyone else. At least, that was my perception. Take a person who feels misunderstood, and they will likely search for ways to make themselves understood. For some, that’s pretty easy. For me, it’s torture. Where an extrovert will go out and boldly find common ground amongst the populous, my introverted, sensitive, intuitive self always sought out subtlety. That pattern still exists today.

As I reflect upon how this desire to be understood manifested itself, one method stands out above all others: music. I would never walk up to someone on a whim and start conversing with them about music. But, put me in my car and I would roll down my windows, turn my stereo up as loud as I could tolerate, and announce to the world what my musical interests were. Silly, I know. But the passive, subtle effort was the best way I knew to communicate to people that I enjoy music and this is the music I enjoy.

As I matured, I realized that was not the most effective or respectful method of communicating my musical tastes. Yet, music remains a window into my world. It’s a unifier and it evokes emotion. As an INFJ personality type, it allows me to flex my extroverted sensing muscle in a healthy way. Similar to nature, I am likely to immerse myself in the auditory cornucopia of sounds, lyrics, and chord progressions.

So I’m going to roll down my window, turn the stereo up, and share with you my curated soundtrack. Not only will I share the music that has resonated with me over the years, but also explore some of the reasons why I hold on to some artists and songs even today. I’ll move in chronological order, though you’ll notice that my musical tastes do not necessarily follow a linear path. Later this week, I’ll share with you the first music that captured my attention and why. I hope you come along for the ride!

First up: The warm smell of colitas!

Parenting The Personality: How to not lose your cool when your children are not like you.

I strongly believe that you find what you’re looking for in life. Some refer to this as the Tetris Effect. Simply put, we seek out things that are at the forefront of our conscious thoughts. When I purchased my first, new car, I distinctly remember thinking that I hadn’t spotted many of that make and model on the roads. However, that perception changed as soon as I drove the car off the lot. Suddenly, I started noticing every car of that make and model. It seemed as though they were everywhere. I had been actively searching for them.

Recently, I’ve been thinking and writing about our individual personalities. Sure enough, the more I think about how personalities influence our relationships in every aspect of life, the more I recognize the force personalities exert on our interactions with each other. This is especially true with those I’m closest to; those I know the best. Case in point, parenting my 16-year-old daughter.

As I’ve written about before, my MBTI (Myers-Briggs Type Indicator) is INFJ. I’m an introverted (I), big-picture thinker (N) who views the world through feeling the human experience (F). When I make a decision, it’s after a lot of introspection and thinking about the impact those decisions have on those around me. When I do make a decision, I want closure (J). When I make plans, I don’t want them to change. And if they do change, I want three backup plans waiting in the wings.

My wife is an ISTJ. She’s introverted, just like I am. She lives in the minute details of life (S) and uses past experiences to best predict what will happen next (T). She has a determination to finish a job like nobody I’ve ever met before (J). She craves that closure. Now, let’s look at our daughter.

The child is an ENFP. She’s an extrovert and relies on interacting with the outside world to understand it (E). Like me, she’s a big-picture thinker (N) who views the world through feeling the human experience (F). However, where our child differs from us the most is in that last classification. The child prefers to fly by the seat of her pants (P). She’s brilliant; however, as her parents, we are constantly terrified because we are always questioning whether she’s planning for life appropriately. We perceive her preference to leave her options open until the last minute as being completely chaotic.

How does this manifest itself in real-world application as her parents? Let’s first look at how she approaches time management. At times, our daughter wants to do it all. She’s currently involved in two separate theater productions, taking three Advanced Placement classes at school, and attempts to lead a vibrant social life outside of those commitments. If her mother or I attempted to take on that much, we would approach things in different ways to manage the stress associated with that level of commitment. Though her mother and I would approach the management of that stress in a very structured way, seeking closure of individual tasks (J), the child is most comfortable making decisions at the last possible point in her thinking process. What would drive us crazy, allows her to feel most at ease. Here are two examples:

  • A musical artist recently announced a world tour. The child, and most of her friends, dutifully signed up for the pre-sale lottery. That was the extent of her planning. When she discovered this week that she had been chosen for the pre-sale lottery, she excitedly shared the news with us (E). Tickets would go on sale at 3 PM the next day. Of course, this led to a myriad of questions from us. How much are tickets? How are you going to pay for this? You want to go with friends, are they ready to fork over money tomorrow at 3 PM? You have rehearsal at 3PM tomorrow, how are you going to buy the tickets? All questions you would expect from parents who plan. Spoiler Alert: She hadn’t thought those things through.
  • My wife and I require an organized environment to feel most at ease (J). While never immaculate, our home is almost always tidy and put together. My wife specializes in organizing the minute details of our finances and planning our family activities. I ensure the kitchen stays clean after every meal and we always have clean clothes to wear. We both are methodical in completing these activities and do not tend to rest if there are loose ends. Enter our daughter, stage left. Our methodical approach to closure is completely foreign to the child’s spontaneous self. She loves to create. On a whim, she’ll head into the kitchen and without much guidance, start baking a cake. Once completed with the baking, it’s on to her next creative endeavor. The path of destruction left in the kitchen simply does not stress her out. She’ll get to it. Maybe. Eventually. If she doesn’t, it’s not causing her much stress from the lack of order and closure. Who is this alien?

None of this means that we don’t guide our daughter through things that are challenging. We are 100% invested in her creative pursuits. However, we recognize that a person cannot successfully navigate life while only focusing on their primary strengths and traits. Planning for contingencies can be very useful. Reaching closure on items is oftentimes necessary in life. Just ask your boss about that one. What understanding our daughter’s personality preferences helps us with is in reducing the frustration when the willful imp starts to blaze her own trail and do things herself. Her loose affiliation with sound time management techniques doesn’t mean that she’s doing things wrong. It just means that she does it differently than we do.

It’s no surprise that I encourage all parents to know their own MBTI, as well as those of their parenting partner and their children. I also encourage that we help our children understand their own MBTI. While personality isn’t the sole influencer of human behavior, it is a cornerstone to understanding the dynamic nature of human relationships. What is your own personality type? What about your significant other and children? How have personality types impacted your own familial relationships?