Hey, guys! Long-time lurker, first-time poster.
I'm kind of nervous writing this to you all, especially since I've read so many well-written posts on this forum. I don't think I can possibly compare to the level of sophistication some of you ooze in your posts, especially since what will follow is essentially a long and bumbling rant.
Please bear with me. These feelings thump against my chest, and I need to vent it out. Treat it as a storytime, as an opportunity to read about a protagonist living in a far, far away land, in the world of fairytales, if you may.
Anyway, to set the scene: ever since I was a freshman, I wanted to be the editor-in-chief of my school newspaper. I know, intense. I guess that's my Ni coming out there. I had this vision of leading this magnificent masthead, with members so close to each other that they were practically siblings, that I would personally inspire to great heights.
So starting freshman fall, I wrote a bunch of articles for the Sports page, these funny, short snippets that were a huge hit on campus. The editor for sports was a witty ISTP who totally understood me, thought I was a fabulous writer, and promoted me to a staff writer pretty quickly.
Sophomore fall, I was able to apply to be a copy editor, which, to all those not familiar, basically is the newspaper equivalent of a McDonald's worker. We had to check all the grammar, memorize numerous style conventions unique to the paper, look over the layout right before it was sent to publishers, knowing that we were only valued for this mechanical mental labor.
However, usually, all the copy editors would become page editors in the following years, so I knew I could use this position as a stepping-stone to become the editor-in-chief.
Five other sophomores were accepted as copy editors, including a person we will refer to as R, because I'm in a mood to be mysterious in a totally cliché way. R quickly grew to be the bane of my existence in the most unpleasant way.
A little background on R, though, before I go on. I'll make it short, since you're probably bored from all my ranting. Three words: outspoken, articulate, with a dash of arrogance that only added to his allure. Now it would have been very different if I, as a female, showed any arrogance. But I digress.
Anyway, R quickly stepped up and started acting condensending to the fellow copy editors, myself included, even though I had seniority over him, being a member of the newspaper from freshman fall. He talked over me in meetings. Talked down to me when I tried to organize the articles we edit.
Part of it was also me. It probably doesn't translate to this post well, especially since I'm very frustrated, but normally, I'm a very bubbly girl. I love using emojis and exclamation points, and I will happily spam you with them. But this guy was Te-Fi, and I made the major mistake of communicating to him in a Fe way. R probably got the impression that I was an unthreatening, emotional little girl. And on that sour note, we concluded sophomore year.
Now, to further complicate matters, I was most definitely not infatuated with the editor-in-chief, who we will call Z. Nope. Not at all. I'm sure that sounded very convincing. I guess I didn't really want to cover it up, huh?
Anyway, because I was infatuated with those stupidly enthralling blue eyes, I was sidetracked from my goal to become the next editor-and-chief, and in the meantime, R stepped up his game, showing off his fabulous leadership skills.
I can tell, too, that Z relates more with the underdog, or R, than with me, as he was an underdog himself. Z's quite uncomfortable with the jaded, the experienced veterans in an establishment, which I understand, but that in no way invalidates my unique abilities given my experiences with the newspaper.
At this point, I've resigned myself to being an editor for sports working under R, who will inevitably be the next editor-in-chief. So now I'm struggling with jealousy toward R, frustration with myself, and unrequited feelings for Z.
Color me obsessed with the newspaper. And maybe with him. And maybe after writing all of this and reading your replies I can color myself with something else.
tl;dr a girl who looked at the sun setting in the pacific outside her window, dreamt big, and is realizing that the sky might not have really been the limit, but rather the birds.
I'm kind of nervous writing this to you all, especially since I've read so many well-written posts on this forum. I don't think I can possibly compare to the level of sophistication some of you ooze in your posts, especially since what will follow is essentially a long and bumbling rant.
Please bear with me. These feelings thump against my chest, and I need to vent it out. Treat it as a storytime, as an opportunity to read about a protagonist living in a far, far away land, in the world of fairytales, if you may.
Anyway, to set the scene: ever since I was a freshman, I wanted to be the editor-in-chief of my school newspaper. I know, intense. I guess that's my Ni coming out there. I had this vision of leading this magnificent masthead, with members so close to each other that they were practically siblings, that I would personally inspire to great heights.
So starting freshman fall, I wrote a bunch of articles for the Sports page, these funny, short snippets that were a huge hit on campus. The editor for sports was a witty ISTP who totally understood me, thought I was a fabulous writer, and promoted me to a staff writer pretty quickly.
Sophomore fall, I was able to apply to be a copy editor, which, to all those not familiar, basically is the newspaper equivalent of a McDonald's worker. We had to check all the grammar, memorize numerous style conventions unique to the paper, look over the layout right before it was sent to publishers, knowing that we were only valued for this mechanical mental labor.
However, usually, all the copy editors would become page editors in the following years, so I knew I could use this position as a stepping-stone to become the editor-in-chief.
Five other sophomores were accepted as copy editors, including a person we will refer to as R, because I'm in a mood to be mysterious in a totally cliché way. R quickly grew to be the bane of my existence in the most unpleasant way.
A little background on R, though, before I go on. I'll make it short, since you're probably bored from all my ranting. Three words: outspoken, articulate, with a dash of arrogance that only added to his allure. Now it would have been very different if I, as a female, showed any arrogance. But I digress.
Anyway, R quickly stepped up and started acting condensending to the fellow copy editors, myself included, even though I had seniority over him, being a member of the newspaper from freshman fall. He talked over me in meetings. Talked down to me when I tried to organize the articles we edit.
Part of it was also me. It probably doesn't translate to this post well, especially since I'm very frustrated, but normally, I'm a very bubbly girl. I love using emojis and exclamation points, and I will happily spam you with them. But this guy was Te-Fi, and I made the major mistake of communicating to him in a Fe way. R probably got the impression that I was an unthreatening, emotional little girl. And on that sour note, we concluded sophomore year.
Now, to further complicate matters, I was most definitely not infatuated with the editor-in-chief, who we will call Z. Nope. Not at all. I'm sure that sounded very convincing. I guess I didn't really want to cover it up, huh?
Anyway, because I was infatuated with those stupidly enthralling blue eyes, I was sidetracked from my goal to become the next editor-and-chief, and in the meantime, R stepped up his game, showing off his fabulous leadership skills.
I can tell, too, that Z relates more with the underdog, or R, than with me, as he was an underdog himself. Z's quite uncomfortable with the jaded, the experienced veterans in an establishment, which I understand, but that in no way invalidates my unique abilities given my experiences with the newspaper.
At this point, I've resigned myself to being an editor for sports working under R, who will inevitably be the next editor-in-chief. So now I'm struggling with jealousy toward R, frustration with myself, and unrequited feelings for Z.
Color me obsessed with the newspaper. And maybe with him. And maybe after writing all of this and reading your replies I can color myself with something else.
tl;dr a girl who looked at the sun setting in the pacific outside her window, dreamt big, and is realizing that the sky might not have really been the limit, but rather the birds.
Last edited:
Guess what or where does your energy focus? After reflecting some more on your post...yea, I can see or feel the emotional roller coaster. You know, why is our culture so competitive?! INFJ Utopia. Anyways, the roller coaster. Z, a pull to the eyes. R, pressure, jealousy. Push, pull, push, pull, etc. I like to write this out. Puts me there in the office.