Lily Iserson
Social media sites such as Tumblr, Pinterest, Reddit and even obscure forums are rife with occasional superstitions.
Lingering over my computer at night, I chance upon familiar subjects, typically written by young adults: full moon cycles, chancy tarot and horoscope readings. Each provokes a series of introspective posts regarding our strange universe and the interactions that occur within it.
While some of these posts certainly fall within the genre of soon forgotten late-night angst, most have poetic rights. Bloggers love phenomena; like checking for ghosts in rearview mirrors, just in case, a blogger speculates about Mercury in retrograde, quietly informing the internet that a certain week might prove stranger than most.
At the casual surface of these mystical hobbies, many bloggers adopt horoscope traits as an affirmation of identity, wielding the labels of “Gemini” beside such important details as name and country of origin. (And why not? Proclamations of common characteristics, however fictional, create links in the world, and they’re fun.)
Myers-Briggs, the scientifically-backed personality quiz many have taken on certain whims, has circumvented the culture of these mythologies. True, Myers-Briggs maintains a degree of accuracy (Myers and Briggs compiled personalities from Carl Jung’s work) — it has nonetheless adopted the trends of aforementioned astrology. Internet users mention their Myers-Briggs type as a means of introduction, but they also incorporate Myers-Briggs in brief, personal dissections, shared for self-help (“an ENFP’s greatest weaknesses are”), in addition to more fanciful descriptions (according to one post, in a fantasy universe, an ENFP-type would encompass the “Genie trope: friendly and helpful, but not always the most reliant character in the story,” courtesy of Tumblr user infj-mbti).
I would not write about this trend if it did not apply to my day-to-day life — and it does. At mixers and coffee chats, in dorms and various club meetings, Myers-Briggs types have become a topic of inquiry, a starting point for meeting new people. I struggle to think of any other personality quiz that has so deeply resonated with a population to the point of its application in job interviews, in addition to The College of Wooster’s own first-year roommate forms.
Myers-Briggs embodies the vast potential of relationships. Consider initial conversations with a stranger: instead of explaining my complicated attributes, I point to my ENFP-type (Extraverted, Intuitive, Feeling, Perceiving), and I am summed, all drawn-out, a series of patterns with more details underneath — Myers-Briggs composes the top layer of a forest floor.
According to compatibility charts, I should watch for my “natural companions,” INTJs and INFJs. Though I’ve yet to meet these individuals (as I recall), they exist in the tropes of soul mates, friends-for-life, travel partners: Myers-Briggs points to latent traits that exist in everyone, however simple a person may appear on their surface. I deem this a hopeful notion in a culture that reinforces self-actualization and what we’re accustomed to, rather than meeting individuals outside the spheres of our own experiences.
And yet, I can’t help but love the familiar in my favorite aspect of Myers-Briggs: fictional character lists that coincide Myers-Briggs types. According to a TvTropes page, Buddy from Elf, Pheobe from Friends and Aang from Avatar: The Last Airbender share my type. While I’m not sure what will amount from these realizations, such figures may assist the creation of my own (evidently idealistic and purposeful) narrative in the world.