The Weasley Twins have a sister!

ESFP

• 33% Extroversion over Introversion
• 38% Sensing over Intuition
• 62% Feeling over Thinking
• 22% Perceiving over Judging

This is Me:

"SPs sometimes think and talk in more of a spider-web approach. Several of my ESFP friends jump from thought to thought in mid-sentence, touching here or there in a manner that's almost incoherent to the listener, but will eventually cover the waterfront by skipping on impulse from one piece of information to another. It's really quite fascinating."

"ESFPs love to talk to people about people. Some of the most colorful storytellers are ESFPs. Their down-to-earth, often homespun wit reflects a mischievous benevolence."

"The dominant function of ESFPs is concerned with the reality that is perceived through the senses. This type's prime directive is to examine the tangible through taste, touch, sight, feeling and hearing. ESFPs' need for new experiences surely results from this function....As perceivers, ESFPs do not linger on moral concerns unless it is in service of a Greater Good and/or a unifying cause"

"feeling for ESFPs has a surreal, cryptic, quintessential nature. It is more often implied than verbally expressed, more apparent in countenance and deed rather than word or creed"

"This tertiary function is at the ready to give definitive answers when the world requires them. It provides a measure of balance to Introverted Feeling, allowing the ESFP some level of boundary and protection from those who would take advantage. When overused or overestimated, however, Thinking becomes a liability"

"As is the nature of the inferior (fourth) function, ESFP intuition lacks a sense of balance. This type seems most successful in deducing patterns and seeing connections only after a thorough examination of the facts (which process appears quite unorganized and haphazard to non-SPs). "

This is What I Think:

This "Hummanetrics" test is spot-on, it's actually kind of creepy. I guess being an "ESFP" means that I am a Weasley Brother, which is AWESOME! I have always loved the Weasley brothers, their mischeivous attitude makes them an audience favorite. But, the funny thing is, I don't want to necessarily be an "audience favorite", what I prefer is to do exactly what the personality description said I might: tell stories about people for people in small group settings for all to enjoy. Those who know me best can attest to the fact that I quite often say, "I love people", and I do! Every human being; friend, family, or new acquaintance, is fascinating to me! Each person has their own story to tell and their own personality. My joy comes from finding out what each distinct individual is all about. At CFD, our psychiatrist called me a "center". According to her, a "center" was not someone who liked to be in the middle of everything all the time, but liked to create community like a spider taking time to create an intricate web. Finding similarities and common ground to bring people together, and building a connection of love and harmony is what I like to do best. 

The other aspect of the Hummanetrics test that stayed true to form is that feelings, for me, have a "surreal, cryptic, quintessential nature". From personal experience, I can say that whatever someone might display on the surface is not necessarily the essence of their true being. I function a lot on feeling out the solution, and believe in the philosophy of "following one's heart". That phrase of course, sounds silly and stupid, but is actually a lot harder than I originally thought.

Finally, the part of myself that I am most proud to display of my "ESFP" nature is the inner drive for adventure! At heart, I am a nomad, never comfortable in the same place for a long period of time, and always on the lookout for opportunities to seize. Spontaneity is something that I thrive off of, and planning has certainly never been my strong suit. This is one of the reasons that mission work has always appealed to me so much, the traveling and the experiencing of a new culture and a new way of life. When my thirst for discovery is combined with my love of human connection, it becomes the ultimate healing experience.

So that's all folks, and that's me! 

"Did you ever think, when you were a child, what fun it would be if your toys could come to life? Well suppose you could really have brought them to life. Imagine turning a tin soldier into a real little man...And suppose the tin soldier did not like it...all he sees is that the tin is being spoilt."
-from: "The Obstinate Toy Soldiers" page 179

CS Lewis's imagery of the obstinate toy soldiers is very reminiscent of the tale of Pinocchio and Geppetto. Pinocchio wants to become a real boy, but must first put in to practice the virtue of honesty. With human beings, saved or unsaved, we begin as empty as Pinocchio, as breakable and and small as little tin soldiers. CS Lewis also accurately pointed out that no transformation is welcomed or anticipated with excitement by human beings undergoing the process of metamorphosis. Furthermore, the difficulty of the metamorphosis so often attributed with receiving the Holy Spirit and becoming children of God is a battle that often starts with failure and disappointment. Much like Pinocchio grew a long nose when he lied, and a tin soldier might look with disgust on the Maker that tries to repair him, so do we human beings recoil initially when the hand of God intervenes on our behalf.

Many aspects of Christianity, detailed in the ten commandments and in other places in Scripture, are, as Mrs. Meyers so aptly put, "rather inconvenient." We are content to remain set in our own routines, comfortable with the peccadillos that we convince ourselves are surely not hurting anyone or ourselves. But the reality is, sin is sin, brokenness is brokenness. Of course a tin soldier would not want to undergo the change from tin to flesh, just as a hollow man is reluctant to receive the love of God.

In my own personal experience, I always find myself going back to the issue of the battle between my rational brain and my eating disorder, very irrational brain. I embody the human getting comfortable in the new skin and in the light of God, while at the same time my spirit embodies the irritation of the tin soldier who feels the tin being "spoilt" by an outside force that it can't control. In my younger days, I always imagined of course how amazing it would be to watch my stuffed animals come to life, and in fact I would sometimes put blankets over my bear collection when I went to kindergarten in case they felt like sleeping while I was away. If only I could go back and make those same precautionary measures for myself and for my soul, I would give this present, 17-year-old Melanie the "blanket" of assurance that the process of coming alive in Christ is something beautiful, although it might be excrutiatingly painful. This quote is something that cut me to my core, because it is the exact quote that could describe the struggle this has been, and will continue to be: finding God and letting the metamorphosis occur.

GPS

I have only ever been on one road trip in my entire seventeen years of living, but the bits and pieces that I sporadically float around in my brain bank form a memory that can be described as unpleasant, uncomfortable, long, tiring, and ends at an In-N-Out Burger in LA. Three summers ago before my sophomore year, my mom, brother, and I were driving down to California to visit my mom's cousin and her three kids that lived in a city close to Los Angeles. It was a going to be a short trip, so we didn't have many essentials packed, but we stocked the car with boxes of Cheezits, Chex Mix, peanut butter sandwiches, and drinks that officially lasted us into day one of the trip. Day two was about eight hours of driving, an inordinate and outrageous amount of time considering that our trusty GPS projected our arrival time to take only half that amount of time. But the other four hours were spent trying to navigate the streets of LA, and we got thoroughly acquainted with the city trying to figure out which exit would take us where and what streets led to which place. Of course, at the time, GPS technology did not offer machines in which one could change the voice of the navigator. So, for four hours of wrong turns and obscure streets, we got to hear the hollow and metallic voice of the "GPS" lady say, "Recalculating", with the slight intonation of irritation and condescension that only machines with voices can deliver.

Long story short, my life up to this present moment could be described by the irritation of the road trip; taking wrong turns, "recalculating", and trying again. I was born, there was my starting point, and the destination or end point changes as my goals and desires change. But in the trial-and-error process of growing up, and especially the two-year red light that I was stuck at in my eating disorder that I am still fighting, the GPS catastrophe proves to be the most fitting description. If life were a city like Los Angeles, and the streets were the decisions that I have made and learned from, I have heard my fair share of "recalculating" from the GPS. That hollow, metallic voice is similar to the people I feel that I have disappointed at different points in life; my mother, my youth pastor, my ballet teacher, my friends, and most of all, myself. But for now, I'll keep turning down the streets and trying to find my way. When I hear "Recalculating!", I'll just curse under my breath, take a U-turn, and keep on driving.

Divorce of a Different Kind: Melanie Toschi

You are the heavy fetters of iron,

the prisoner's nightmare.

You are the fork on the plate

and the matinee puppeteer. 

You are the rust on the nail,

and the nor'easter on the seas.

However, you are not the chair by the Thanksgiving table,

or the patterned sunshine on the side of the house,

or the snow under the sled.

And you are certainly not the operatic aria.

There is just no way that you are the operatic aria.

It is possible that you are the last strength of the dying soldier,

maybe even the musings of the schizophrenic, 

but you are not even close

to being the first cries of the newborn baby. 

And a quick look in the mirror will show

that you are neither the wheels on the school bus

nor the bronze chalice on the communion table.

It might interest you to know, 

speaking of the plentiful opportunities in life,

that I am the rubber in the running shoes.

I also happen to be the monarch butterfly,

the first leaves on the branches in spring

and the unopened bud on the rosebush.

I am also the prayer of the drunkard

and the Artist's paintbrush.

And now, I don't want the heavy fetters of iron.

You will always be the heavy fetters of iron.

You are heavy fetters of iron,

not to mention the prisoner and -somehow- the nightmare.