Thought Catalog

20 True Stories Of Ghosts And The Occult To Read Alone In The Dark

Posted: 03 Sep 2015 02:23 PM PDT

Screen Shot 2015-09-04 at 7.34.03 PM


I live in the north of Switzerland. We have a lot of old military bunkers from the Second World War. When I was 7 or 8 years old, three friends of mine and I went out to explore one of these bunkers who was built on a hill inside a small forest. The main door was jammed, so we had to break it up. We found a big log nearby and used it as a battering ram.

After many tries the door won't budge. But there was a peephole. It was about 10 cm (4 inch) in diameter. We opened it and illuminated the dark inside. There was a long, ruined and dark hallway with rooms on the left and right side. We couldn't see the end of the hallway. It was just too long. Every one of us wanted to catch a glimpse of the inside, when one of my friends says: "There is a small light at the end of the hallway". This light was not there when I watched trough the peephole. So I pushed him away and took a second look.

What I saw gave me a shiver. There was not a small light, it looked more like a flashlight pointed directly towards me and behind it was a silhouette of a person. I walked a few steps back and said: "There is someone in there!" At the same moment someone (or something) knocked on the door from the inside of the bunker. This was the moment we got into panic, start screaming and run away. I was so scared I run straight home and locked the door. On the next day in school, my friends and I talked about the event. We came to the explanation that probably some older Kids have played a prank on us. One week later we went to the same bunker again. But as we saw, the welded connection, that should keep the door locked, where rusty and not broken, we just left without saying a word to each other. It was impossible someone opened this door before us, and this was the only entrance. I still live in the same region.

Standing in front of this door again was not very comfortable. The story happened 20 years ago. But it still looks the same.

2. On The Sofa

Years ago I fell asleep on my mother’s living room sofa. She was already in bed but my brother was out somewhere. Some time in the middle of the night I woke up to see someone standing over me and covering me with a blanket. It looked like a man wearing a bandana. I assumed it was my brother but thought it was strange for him to be wearing that. The next morning I asked him about it and he said he didn’t even come into the living room when he came home and it wasn’t him who covered me up. My mother also denied doing it and no one else was in the house that night.
I didn’t really find that creepy until a while later when one of my aunts stayed at my mom’s house and reported the exact same thing happened to her. Apparently there was a ghost in that house that wanted to make sure people were tucked in when they fell asleep on the sofa. Could be worse!

3. The Farmer

My mother in law was a very funny and cool woman. She and my wife were really close and sadly, she passed away when our son was about 4 months old. Flash forward a few years. We live in an old 1930s era craftsman house in Pasadena, CA. Our son is about 3.

I was giving him a bath one night and he starts looking over my shoulder, not at random stuff, but at something. A moment passes and he asks me why Grandma calls Mommy a funny name. Long pause. I asked him what he meant thinking he was talking about MY mom. He then says why does Grandma call Mommy ****** (My mother in laws nickname for my wife). I was really set back by this. My wife and I never used the nickname, it was just what her mom called her since she was a baby. I asked him where he heard that. His reply:

“The Farmer told me”

I asked him who the farmer was and he replied “his friend.” I tell my wife this story later and she’s of course reduced to tears over the whole nickname thing. We both know there is no way for him to know this and we just kinda marvel at it.

Flash forward to the next weekend and my son is playing in his room. My wife is at work (retail) and I’m home (I worked M-F).

I hear him start talking like he’s having a conversation. He’s saying things like “yes” “no” “I don’t know that” then some laughing. I go into his room and ask him what hes doing and he says playing. I ask with who. He says The Farmer.

At this point I’m already thinking about the fucking Exorcist movie and Captain Howdy. It’s a little unsettling. I ask him where the Farmer is. He says he left when I came in.

THE FUCK. So my wife gets home and I tell her this and now shes just as weirded out as I am. We have no idea what do and figure if it happens again we’ll do something.

A few days later in the middle of the night we both over hear our son saying the following: “Grandma says you and I can’t be friends anymore.”

Wife and I go check on him, both of us a little freaked. He’s just sitting up in bed. I ask if he’s ok and he says yea, Grandma says i cant play with the Farmer anymore.

He never once mentioned the Farmer again. Not ever. He’s 13 now and doesn’t remember any of it. We do though.


Was at a friend’s house when I passed out on the couch. Woke up a bit later and realized it was time for me to go. Got up and noticed my buddies light on in his room but the door was shut. Walked by the door and told him I was leaving because I had to work in the am. He said “YUP, SEE YA!” Went to fridge to grab my drink. Walked back by his room and said “later dude”. He said “YUP.” Something didn’t seem legit, didn’t sound quite like him so I opened the door….. No one there…. No one in the house. Went outside and his truck was gone. I freaked the fuck out. Called his cell an he had left to go to McDonald’s 15 minutes prior. I bolted outside and waited for him to get home. He told me the kid that use to live there years ago hung himself In the attic an ever since he lived there he has notice strange things and voices. This was confirmed by the neighbor… The kids older brother! After that just about anyone who goes over there has a weird experience. My buddy has dealt with it for years. When it gets weird he yells out loud “LEAVE ME ALONE” and he says the weird vibes stop for a bit. But they always come back.

5. A Dream Among Siblings

When my son was about six months old I had a dream that I was at my grandparent’s house with him. My grandfather was holding my son and crying while I talked to my grandmother… I told her that I wished her and my grandfather were still alive to see my son and she said “Don’t worry, we see him.”

I didn’t think anything else of it until about five years later I was talking to my sister and I mentioned that I’d had a dream about our grandparents. She said “Was Papa Joe (what we called our grandfather) holding your son while he rocked in his chair, and did Grandma tell you they were watching you?” I said yes and asked how she knew and she said “I had the same dream when my son was six months old.”

And more recently… my son (he was 20 at the time) was driving home from work late one night. As he drove he said he very clearly heard my mother (who had been dead for two years) say “Johnathan, stop the car.” Out of reflex he did, and as soon as he stopped three dear ran out in front of him. Had he not stopped the car he’d have hit them.


My mom had a seizure in her sleep (she was epileptic), got wrapped up in her blankets, and suffocated herself. Paramedics were able to get her breathing again, and loaded her into an ambulance. This was very early in the morning, like 4:30 am.

I was tasked with calling family to tell them my mother was in the hospital. The first and most important phone call I had to make was to my grandmother, her mother. Before I had a chance to grab the phone and call, the phone rang. It was my grandmother calling. This would have been about 5:30 in the morning, but about 2:30 in the morning in her time zone. She wanted to tell us that she’d seen my mother bathed in golden light, and claimed they’d talked and that she was dead, but headed to a better place now.

At this point I didn’t know my mother was going to die. My father was at the hospital with her, and didn’t know she was going to die yet. The doctors didn’t know she was brain dead yet. But somehow my grandmother knew and contacted me.

Incredibly spooky.


There was this lady (we’ll call her Annie) that was a friend of my mom’s and I lived with her for a few months after college.

I worked 2nd shift, so I was up late watching TV after everyone else was in bed. Annie comes walking into the living room, half asleep. I say, “What’s going on, Annie?” and she says, “My grandmother just called.”

I’m like, “Nooooo, no one has called.”

She insists that she just talked to her grandmother and that her grandmother called to tell her goodbye and now she wants to call her family to check on her.

“Nonsense,” I say. “It was just a dream. Don’t bother your family in the middle of the night. Go back to bed and call them in the morning.” And she goes back to bed.

About an hour later, I’m just getting into bed when the phone rings. No, shit. And it’s her family calling to tell her that her grandmother died about an hour ago.

The grandmother was old, but not sick or on death’s bed or anything. Annie did not remember any of this the next day and we never spoke of it. I thought about this for years and struggled with labeling it a ghost story or just an eerie coincidence. My skeptical and logical tendencies decided to label it a coincidence. The only times I have re-told this story have been to people who do not know Annie in situations where everyone is telling their “ghost-stories.”


About a decade later, Annie died unexpectedly. I went to her funeral and her brother delivered a eulogy. In it, he tells this story.

When Annie was about 4, her great-grandmother died. All the family was gathered in the house and someone noticed that little Annie had disappeared. After a brief search, they found her in a bedroom, rolling on the floor laughing.

“What on earth are you laughing about, Annie?” and little Annie replies,

“Great-grandma was tickling me. She came to tell me goodbye."

8. Children. Stop. Now.

Many years ago, as a 14 year old, staying overnight at a friends house, with 3 other friends, similar ages. We’d all grown up together, except one, who was a cousin of the kid who lived there, and we’d never met him before. His older sister, 16 at the time, was the babysitter while the parents were out for the evening.

She decides to unearth a ouija board from a cupboard somewhere, and thinks it’ll be a laugh to scare us shitless. This was back in the days, when you could buy ouija boards as a ‘board game’ from your local toy store.

So we all gather round, and she starts off with a kind of yes/no lie detector, directing questions to the each of us in turn. Cue nervous giggles, but also a feeling of unease, as we all began to feel like this was awesomely amazing, like some kind of secret that we’d all been unaware of before.

Shit gets strange, when the sister asks out loud, that ‘if anybody is here, please show yourself’. A pause of a few seconds, and then a framed picture falls off the wall, and onto the floor. Naturally, we all freak the fuck out. She calms us all down, and insists we go back to the board, because we have to help whoever knocked the picture down.

Ashen faced and hearts pounding, we start asking questions (And I should also add, the pointer is moving smoothly and rapidly, in a completely different manner than before.)

Are you in the room? Pointer says yes. Are you a man? Pointer says no. Do you need help? Pointer says no. What’s your name? Pointer spells out S-A-R-A-H. Tell us a secret, we ask… pointer spells out FLIPACOIN.

So we did. Someone leaves the table and gets a 10p piece from out of the loose change jar in the kitchen. This was in the days when 10p coins were big and chunky. The coin goes spinning high up into the air…as we watch it coming down, it stops spinning and serenely falls edge down to land on the table. When I say land, it didn’t bounce, it didn’t rock, it just came down and met the table, perfectly balanced on it’s edge, as if someone had reached out, and gently placed it there

Breaking the silence, the pointer starts moving again. Seemingly random letters, we soon realize they’re initials, including middle names. Family tradition for my friend and his sister was to have 3 middle names, something not all of us knew. Aside from the brother and the cousin, no-one else would have known the older sister’s full name, and we’d met the cousin for the first time that night. Somehow, every person present, had their initials correctly spelled out to them.

Pointer pauses, and then spells out 3 last words. CHILDREN. STOP. NOW.

Took me many many weeks to be able to sleep properly. No one told their parents, and over the years it became our collective shared secret. Couldn’t rationalize it then, still cant rationalize it today.

Here Is When You Need To Practice Tough Love

Posted: 04 Sep 2015 11:07 AM PDT


You need to practice tough love after a breakup. When your heart is raw and reeling, it will do all of the bleeding for itself. It does not need your enabling – evenings spent pouring over photos and 3am wine-drunk voicemails. When your heart is falling in around itself, it needs your strength to help keep it together. It needs early bedtimes and busy mornings. Healthy food and hearty routine. It needs you to force yourself to get up and face the world in all the ways you are not quite ready to, because it has the falling apart covered. The pain can take care of itself, but the healing has to come straight from you.

You need to practice tough love when you're transitioning. When life isn't quite what it used to be but it's also not what it will be next, you need to be the bridge that takes you from one stage of your life into another. When everything around you is shifting and you're not sure whom you can rely on, you are the person that you need to be able to trust. The person who will get you up every morning and tackle the day no holds barred. The person who will push you confidently forward, into the life that you're going to live next. You need to be the person who refuses to feel sorry for or down about themselves – who knows that bigger things are coming because they can rely on themselves to get them there.

You need to practice tough love when you're alone. When the walls are all closing in around you and nobody's there to hear your cries, you need to be the one who comes to your own aid. Who refuses to give into old habits, who chooses better methods of coping, who wipes their own tears and faces down their fears as many night in a row as they need to, in order to keep going. You need to be the person who forces themselves out on the nights when socializing seems difficult and fruitless and inane. You need to be the person who makes sure you show up, because life isn't going to come find you in your sweatpants on the living room couch.

You need to practice tough love when you're afraid. When the road ahead looks too daunting to walk down but the road behind you is in pieces, you need to be the one who can walk forwards on shaking, trembling legs. You need to be the person who pushes you, the person who changes you, the person who challenges you to be bigger and stronger and more capable than you ever thought was possible. You need to be the one who isn't afraid to take a chance on the future because fear is going to keep you stuck where you are, for exactly as long as you allow it to.

You need to practice tough love when life is plentiful. When everything you've wanted comes pouring in around you, you need to remember that it can disappear just as quickly if you start to neglect your own needs. That it's up to you to maintain the flow of positivity and opportunity and good fortune. That good things don't happen by chance but that you can make them happen through change. And change is a constant that you need to keep up with.

You need to practice tough love when you're at your strongest. When you're at your weakest. When you're at your most whole and when you're at your most broken. Because the truth about tough love is that it is not a measure of berating or beating yourself up. Tough love is simply the commitment to doing what's best for yourself. For living life with a sense of integrity that will pay off in the long-run, rather than satisfying each desire that passes in the short-term.

The truth is, tough love can be tender. Tough love can be kind. Tough love can allow you those nights where you simply need to curl up in a blanket and forget about the world for a while. It's not about the abandonment of your needs, but the deliberate, intelligent management of them. Tough love is your commitment to loving yourself in the way that a parent would love you – kindly and warmly, but not without high expectations.

Tough love means realizing all that you're capable of – and pushing yourself, lovingly, to achieve it. TC mark

I Found A Journal From Someone Who Worked On An Oil Rig And The Entries Are Freakishly Disturbing

Posted: 02 Sep 2015 11:53 AM PDT

Flickr / Glenn Beltz
Flickr / Glenn Beltz

I found something that I'm convinced only people like you will understand and appreciate.

I travel for my work, and I hit a lot of garage sales and second-hand stores. The chance to pick up something unique and with history from another part of the country is too fantastic to pass up. I've scored some decent gems over the years, but nothing quite like what I picked up last year while traveling through the Mustang Islands, in Texas.

I found it at a used book store that was little more than a shack on the side of the road. It was a dusty little fire hazard with more character than some people I know. I bought a few books including what I thought was a very old journal. Not until I got home and started reading the journal did I realize, despite it's well-worn look, it was not very old. It was the journal of a roughneck named Jake on an offshore oil rig. The first 30 or so pages of the journal were nothing out of the ordinary. Jake seemed to live a pretty normal, albeit lonely life. He worked for two weeks on the oil rig, went to shore, to drink and smoke most of his pay away. Then he'd do it again. But two days into his shift in November, a weird chain of events started happening.

When I first read through Jake's journal, I felt compelled to never read it again. And also to never go near the ocean again. But, it's been long enough and I think it's time to share it. I've left out the few times Jake drops a last name for my own reasons, but otherwise the transcription is exact. I decided to start on November 3rd, the first time Jake had "The Dream."


November 3rd: 9 AM

I had a dream last night. I don't usually remember my dreams. In fact, I can go years back and nothing comes to mind. But last night, I had a beautiful dream and can remember every second of it. I was sitting on the window frame of the house I grew up in. The wind was blowing gently through the air and causing the curtain to dance on my arm. I could smell the salt and fresh water, and I could hear the waves foaming up and receding back. A seagull glided slowly across the sky and landed on one of the boards in the short, white picket fence that surrounded the front yard. I looked out over the ocean as the sun just started to touch the water past my pier. I could even hear the prettiest music somewhere off in the distance. A chorus of bells, ringing gently in rhythm. I remember thinking about how perfect everything was when I suddenly woke up.

It was Bill. He smacked me pretty good on the forehead. I almost grabbed his hand before he pulled it away.

Me: "Asshole."

Bill: "Rise and shine, Jake. Roughnecks don't get to sleep in."

All I wanted was to get back to dreaming, but I'm here to make money. I got up, got to work, and we laid almost 400 feet before lunch. At the cafeteria, Bill and I sat together and talked about the weather. Supposed to rain tonight. Decent little storm, but nothing too bad. I still don't know half these boys very well, but most of them seem alright. I'd worked with Bill a few shifts in the past, and I knew Stanley and Bert a little, but the rest were new faces. One of the bigger black dudes started joking, Bill told me later his name is Doug.

Doug: "You ain't nevah' gone down on no Louisan' pussy, cuss' yo' lips would still be puckered, boy!"

He had a bellowing laugh as everyone joined in and he slapped one of the new rustabouts on the back. I believe his name is Henry. Henry blushed a little, but laughed too. They definitely seem like good ole' boys. After lunch, we went back to work and finished the last 300-something feet. Oil came spraying out right after the Driller gave the warning. Not bad for my second day on the shift.


November 4th: 4 AM

Henry is dead. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. If I can write it out, maybe it'll make sense.

Okay. I woke up an hour or two ago. I lay in bed for a while listening to the sound of the storm against all the metal and the pipes. It was surprisingly soothing. I started getting hungry — my bad habit of getting up in the middle of the night to grab a bite to eat in the kitchen reared its ugly head. I snuck off the lower bunk and out of the room. Bill didn't notice through his loud snoring. I made my way upstairs to the kitchen and found a couple of cookies. As I finished the last one, a banging sound started to become distinct from the rest of the noise of the storm. I followed it out of the cafeteria, and walked towards it. The metal banging on metal got louder. I started down the hall and it began to hurt my ears. Finally I rounded the corner saw it was one of the doors leading outside. Rain was pouring in and the wind was yanking it back and slamming it in sporadic timing.


I managed to grab the door before it slammed again. I was about to close it and head back when I noticed somebody way out on deck, standing in the rain. He was near one of the gas compressors near the railing. I ran out to the end of the walkway at the corner of the living block. I could tell it was Henry. I yelled out to him, but he wouldn't look at me. He was smiling with his eyes closed the whole time. Then he put his legs over the railing. I booked it down the two flights of stairs and over to the module he was on. As I got up behind him, he was already over the railing. The wind was picking up. He was holding onto the rail with his feet propped up on his heels and he was leaning forward over the water. I figured it was a bad idea to rush him.

Me: "Henry, come back over the rail, man!"

Henry turned his head towards me. His eyes were still closed and he still had this…big fucking smile. He started laughing.

Henry: "Don't you hear it? It's so beautiful."

Then Henry let go of the railing. He spread his arms, and fucking dropped. I ran over, but I wasn't nearly quick enough to grab him. I watched him fall 200 feet into the crashing waves below. My voice caught in my throat, otherwise I would've screamed. I looked for him, but didn't see a body. I do think I saw a light. Just for a moment, and it was dim in the rain and black water. But I saw a blue light below the water's surface for a second after Henry plummeted under it.

I ran to the nearest alarm and pulled it. We searched with spotlights and they sent boats out. I looked for an hour before I came back in. I could hardly stand and I was shivering from the cold and the rain. I had some hot chocolate and changed my clothes into something dry and warm. One of the boats is still out there and the guys are still looking for Henry, but I know they're not going to find him.

Henry's dead and I have no fucking idea why.


November 4th: 8 PM

We didn't get a lot of work done today. The well's good, but we tapped out at 3,000 gallons. Nobody got chewed out. At lunch, there weren't many jokes to go around. Everyone just asking questions about Henry.

"Did he ever sleep walk?"

"No, not while I was bunking with him. Slept like a rock."

"Was he suicidal?"

"Last time I talked to him, he was eager to get back to his girl."

"What did he say, Jake?"

This one was directed right at me, but it took me a moment to realize. I looked up from my lunch and saw Doug.

Doug: "Before he jumped, did he say anything to you?"

Me: "Yeah … He said, ‘It was beautiful.’ He asked if I could hear something because he said it was beautiful."

Doug's eyes weld up a little and he just went and sat down. The rest of the cafeteria was silent until lunch was over.

I still have 11 days on my shift, but I already want to go home. The weatherman now says that the rain's going to pick up over the next couple of days. Not enough to stop our work, but enough to make it a bitch to get it done. I could be getting drunk or stoned in Port A or South Padre. Fuck, that'd be so much nicer than this. But god damn it, I need cash to do those things and this is the only job I've ever been any good at. I'm a Roughneck — I can take this shit. If I keep psyching myself up, maybe I'll forget I saw a man die.

18 Middle School Dating Rituals That Kids Born After 1995 Will Never Understand

Posted: 03 Sep 2015 12:44 PM PDT

Lizzie McGuire
Lizzie McGuire

1. If you wanted to talk to your crush on the phone and were daring enough to do it, there was no private cell phone number you could call them up on. Instead, you had to get out the school directory, look them up by their last name, then wait until “dinner time” was over so you could CALL THEIR HOUSE.

2. You would pray and pray and pray that your crush would answer, but most of the time, it was their mom or dad that picked up. So you’d have to control your panicked stutter enough to ask if you could please speak to the love of your life.

3. And nothing was more terrifying than when mom or dad replied, “Sure. May I ask who’s calling?”

4. If all went well, you would have a nice five to ten minute chat while your mom followed you around the house, trying to eavesdrop. Then you would call up your BFF’s house (you had their phone number memorized) and tell them all about it. By the time you got to school the next day, everyone knew you guys were “going out.”

5. The way to seem cool and aloof was to put as many inside jokes in your AIM profile as you could think of, so that the person you liked would think you were funny and ~*popular*~.

6. Playing hard to get meant clicking on your crush’s screen name, opening up a chat window… and then staring at it and waiting for them to chat you first. Nothing was more thrilling than seeing “JDawg1991 is typing” in the screen window.

7. You spent a great deal of time in the evenings agonizing over “romantic” song lyrics someone posted in their profile and wondering if maybe, just maybe, they were about you.

8. It wasn’t uncommon to have a three-hour AIM conversation with a love interest on a weeknight and then pretend you didn’t even know each other at school the next day.

9. It is difficult to put into words the excitement you would feel each time you heard the door opening sound on AIM – and wondering if it was possibly your crush signing on.

10. Grinding wasn’t a thing yet. So at middle school dances, you would either sway with two feet between you and your partner during slow dances, or you would jump around with your friends during the fast songs and show off that you knew all the words to “Lose Yourself.”

11. Middle school was tough, but you definitely had some people in your life who understood your dating woes, like Lizzie McGuire and Corey Matthews. But you had to PLAN YOUR LIFE around that shit. If you had to miss their designated t.v. time slots because your parents wanted to have a family dinner, you were shit out of luck.

12. Being passed a hand-written note in the middle of class meant more to you than a text message ever will. The *danger* of it all made everything so much more romantic.

13. And if you felt the same way, you wrote back in gel pen. Because gel pen always raised the stakes

14. Rather than Snapchatting people back and forth with the duck-faceiest, flirtiest pics possible, middle school flirting habits simply consisted of conversations that went like this:
wuts ^
nm, u?
just chillin
same lol
so who do you like rite now

15. If your crush wrote “H.A.G.S.” in your yearbook at the end of the school year, you bet your ass you had a great summer. Partially because you looked at your yearbook every other day, just to see their note.

16. Random chats you received from unknown users that just said “A/S/L?” have a modern day counterpart in the form of creepy Tinder messages.

17. The kissy-face emoji wasn’t a thing. Instead, if you liked someone, you coordinated a group hangout at the movies where everyone got dropped off in minivans. You’d ignore each other for the first twenty minutes, and then find common ground over how HILARIOUS this Fat Albert movie was.

18. The fastest way to get over a breakup was to grab your Discman, put on some depressing Green Day songs, and walk around the mall feeling sorry for yourself. That is what healed all wounds. TC mark

Don’t Date An ENFP

Posted: 03 Sep 2015 12:50 PM PDT


Don't date an ENFP. You'll never have the same day twice. ENFPs are a whirlwind of thoughts and ideas. They are bursting with plans for trips that you could take, things you could create, ways in which your lives could open up and expand and evolve. Monotony is not the ENFP cup of tea and they are constantly looking for ways to spice up life and keep things fresh. If you are looking for a dull, predictable partner who abhors trying anything new, you should run far away from the ENFP.

Don't date an ENFP. They will challenge your opinions and thoughts. This type has a whirring, restless mind that examines things from every perspective. They will present you with new facts and figures. They'll entice you with new points of view. This type isn't one to sit back, nod politely and agree calmly with everything you say. ENFPs have a mind of their own and they will use it to invigorate yours. If it's a lifetime of small talk that you're looking for, steer clear of the ENFP.

Don't date an ENFP. They will shower you with love and affection. This type possesses a heart so full it's bursting – with love for the people around them, with passion for their chosen career, with the world that they're lucky to live in and the people who make it all up. You will not wonder where you stand with an ENFP. They will flatter you with words and affection. They will rave about you to all their friends. They will readily remind you why they love you and they'll fight to ensure that you're happy. If you're looking for a cold and distant partner, the ENFP is not for you.

Don't date an ENFP. They'll show you what independence looks like. This type goes for what they want unabashedly and pursues each of their passions single-handedly. They will not fit into the palm of your hand; this type has wings that they intend to spread wide, they have goals and they intend to aim high. If you are looking for a quiet, docile partner, do not go after the ENFP. They don't expect a partnership to limit them and they don't plan to place limits on you either.

Don't date an ENFP. They will bring new people into your life. They will bring home the kooky and creative. They’ll befriend your community and neighbours. This type will love your family like they are your own, they’ll cherish your friends more than you know. ENFPs love everybody that they meet and if you want a judgmental, standoffish partner, you’ll be barking up the dead wrong tree.

Don't date an ENFP. They'll push you to reach your full potential. They'll see the best in you, the brightest in you, the person you're capable of becoming and they'll challenge you to finally become it. You'll never feel weak or incapable with the ENFP in your life. You'll have no excuse to sit back, wallow in a pool of self-pity and let your true potential pass you by. The ENFP will bring out the best in you. And if you're happy wallowing in your worst, you definitely shouldn't date one.

Don't date an ENFP. They will take you to go see the world. Life with the ENFP will be one big, never ending adventure. They'll cook you foods you've never tasted, bring you to places you have only dreamed of, sweep you away into a world full of excitement and passion and growth. Life will not be small or unremarkable with the ENFP by your side. There will be no room for playing it safe, for keeping it simple, for letting life pass you by one slow, monotonous day at a time.

You should not date an ENFP. Because they'll turn your whole world upside down. And you will never be able to go back. TC mark

Stop What You’re Doing And Think About The Fact That You’re Going To Die

Posted: 03 Sep 2015 10:05 AM PDT


Think about someone you love.

Maybe this is a spouse, a boyfriend, an ex-girlfriend or almost-girlfriend, a roommate, a parent, best friend, sibling or neighbor.

When was the last time you felt annoyed or angry or upset with them? What was it that you felt frustrated over?

We're constantly getting irritated with the people we love. Maybe it's because we know them the best – and the same for them – that they're the ones most able to get under our skin. Maybe it's because we're so comfortable around them that we feel we can drop our guard and snap at them when we're annoyed. Maybe it's something entirely different. No matter the reason, we're often complaining to, at or about them about the things that bother us each day.

And our frustrations are endless.

The mail hasn't been checked. The place hasn't been vacuumed. The dog hasn't been taken out. The dinner reservation hasn't been made. The holiday cards haven't been sent.

We drive ourselves crazy in other ways too – like with the anguish we feel over someone who's left us. Or how many times have we pored over a single text message to someone new, trying to get it just right, trying to get it to not be too long, too intense, too anything that might push them away? How much anxiety have we riddled ourselves with thinking about the last words we said to someone on the day of a breakup and how we wish that they had been different?

Will these so very small things matter in a year? In ten years? Or more?

This isn't to say that they won't. Maybe that missed dinner reservation was for an important business meeting and as a result we never landed that client. Maybe the person we spent all that time crafting a text to ended up being the one who we married. There is a beautiful theory that every choice produces an explosion of paths that we could go down next, and with each choice that follows, the paths we didn't take die off and burn away while another set of paths break open in front of us like fireworks. If this makes you feel like every choice matters, or that no choice matters, either way, I think you are right. I'm not here to say that you are not.

But the biggest thing that I want to focus on here is how much we get caught up in trivial bullshit. How upset we allow ourselves to get when we see that the dishes haven't been put away, that the tub needs to be cleaned, that there are no parking spaces in the driveway.

How upset we allow ourselves to get when someone we loved, for a finite period of time, has left us, for what will be a finite period of time, be it a year or our forever.

And how upset we do not tend to get about wasting or taking for granted our large lives.

How about we reduce our pettiness and push ourselves to see outside of the confines of a moment – a week, a month – and look bigger and wider, so wide that we can see the whole span of our life and all the things that have meaning? Are we able to handle human thought that's so expansive? Do we have the capacity to really feel something so uninhibited or untethered by time or space?

I think we do.

But the way we have to go about it will bring about a lot of discomfort. Because the way we have to go about it is that we have to think about death, plainly and without fear.

When I say we have to think about death, I don't mean that we should catastrophize, trying to predict, trying to control, assuming the worst and spiraling ourselves into such a state of frenzy and terror that we can't so much as think about it again. What we have to think about is our impermanence as what it is, in the scale of our life in our personal and very short time on this Earth, and in the scale of our life against all the time that Earth has existed. What we have to think about is the impermanence of everyone we love as what it is.

Because here's the thing: thinking about death and our impermanence and the impermanence of those we care about deeply is what allows for true appreciation of the here and now.

And when we allow ourselves to appreciate the here and now, we give ourselves the room to step back from whatever petty frustration we're currently dealing with and be thankful for something much larger.

Think about that person you love.

The girlfriend who takes so long to get ready that you both are always late.

The spouse who picks up the wrong kind of toilet paper at the grocery store.

The ex who you wrathfully want an apology from.

That person you love – they're safe, right now, for now. Could there be anything more important? Could there be anything more beautiful?

Because at some point, inevitably, they won't be safe, just as at some point, inevitably, so won't you.

Maybe on some subconscious level, we like to distract and numb ourselves from the here and now, because despite its certainty, the idea of our death can be terrifying. Maybe there's something self-protective about constantly becoming aggravated with small things, because it keeps us from having to think about anything too overwhelming.

But how do you want to spend your time here? Your finite time, with all of its choices exploding like fireworks, with all of its possibility and impermanence and meaning?

I want to spend mine grateful for my now, so that I can be grateful for my small forever. I'll bet that you do too.TC mark

10 Perfect, Sarcastic Responses To Annoying Humblebrags

Posted: 04 Sep 2015 01:16 PM PDT

You're The Worst
You’re The Worst

1. "I just don't think I have the same stamina for travelling anymore. Last month I went to Paris and after the first week I was exhausted."

Sarcastic response: "That sucks! What are you going to do? Are you going to have to limit your Paris trips to six days? The horror!!"

2. "I was really hoping to travel for a year after graduating, but job offers like this one don't come around every day. Looks like I'll be starting the #9to5grind!"

Sarcastic response: Express the appropriate level of enthusiasm, then let this handsome, cheeky British man (aka Jimmy from You're The Worst) do the talking:

3. "Ugh I was so lazy this week. I only went to the gym four times instead of my usual five."

Sarcastic response: "Yeah totally. I was going to tell the exact same story, but I didn't want you to think I was being super annoying and humblebragging or something."

4. "I bought a homeless man lunch today. He was so happy he started crying and telling me that I'm the kindest person he's met in a long time. Really makes you appreciate what you have."

Sarcastic response: "That is so great. So great. You've actually been nominated for a 'Good Samaritan' award. Yeah, it's between you and Mother Teresa."

5. "It's such a bummer that I can't dance to 'Single Ladies' now that I'm engaged!"

Sarcastic response: Smile politely, then remind them what a good asset their ring will be should they ever need to make a quick exit. Or you could just have this badass (aka Gretchen from You're The Worst) tell them for you:

6. "It's so hard to find someone that likes me for my personality. All anyone ever compliments me on is my body."

Sarcastic Response: "Seriously. Attractive people have the worst lives. I honestly don't know how you cope. It must be that fantastic personality you also have. It keeps you grounded."

7. "My date tonight is sooo attractive, I'm going to be too nervous to speak!"

Sarcastic Response: "I've actually heard that conversation is overrated. Just try not speaking at all. In fact, let's go ahead and start that now."

8. "I feel so sick, I think it's because I've been working such long hours on this presentation."

Sarcastic response: Subtly let them know you see right through their excuses. Feel free to steal some lines from Jimmy while you're at it:

9. "Living in a big house can be SUCH a hassle. I had to search through like five rooms before I found my good iPhone charger."

Sarcastic Response: "That IS the worst! It's super easy to find things in my studio apartment. Everything's so cramped; I can pretty much search the entire place in five steps or less. In fact, if I were to search for any f*cks to give you, it would only take like two seconds to know that I'm completely out!"

10. "Everyone says I have a natural talent for teaching, so I guess I'm heading to grad school rather than accepting that job!"

Sarcastic response: Give them all your condolences—er, congratulations—by saying how awesome it is that they're basically reliving undergrad, sans fun. Or just copy this:

Get more You’re The Worst wisdom here to share with your friends.

This post is brought to you by You’re The Worst. Don’t miss the new season premiere September 9th at 10:30PM – only on FXX.

12 Things To Do Right Now Instead Of Cyberstalking Your Ex

Posted: 03 Sep 2015 07:08 AM PDT

Twenty20, freakazoyd13

1. Throw darts at (a printout of) their face.

Printing giant posters is relatively inexpensive and easy to do these days. The idea of throwing darts at your ex's face might seem very 1980s, but it will prove beautifully therapeutic in an analog way.

2. Punch something really hard.

Maybe you didn't have the forethought to order a printout of your ex’s face in anticipation of the moment you’d want to throw sharp objects at it, and you don’t live close to a Kinkos nor have the patience to wait for a printout to arrive by mail. The next best thing is to use your imagination. Envision your ex's face on the surface of your pillow and punch the fuck out of him it.

3. Get drunk with someone you trust enough to stop you from doing something stupid.

Invite a good friend over and drink your faces off together. Getting wasted can be a great way to forget about all the pressing issues clouding your mind, like what your ex is up to RIGHT THIS VERY SECOND. Just be sure to get drunk with a friend whose sensible and stern enough to prevent you from scratching the drunken itch to reach out to your ex, which would be even worse than cyberstalking them.

4. Text your best friend to say anything.

Tell them a terrible joke or compile a series of random emojis or admit that you're texting them just to stop yourself from cyberstalking your ex. Your number one pal should respect and appreciate the reality that you blatantly use them on occasion.

5. Call your mom or dad.

Your parents love you unconditionally, and nothing sates the thirst for information about your ex like a vocal reminder that you are loved regardless of whom you date, and that you absolutely do not need that other person in your life to feel fulfilled.

6. Play a game on your phone or computer.

Games are fun, even the solitary kind and the kind played against borderline creepy Internet acquaintances. By the time you're done challenging yourself in a spirited round of Candy Crush, online Chess, or good old fashioned solitaire, you won't even remember your initial reason for logging onto your electronic device.

7. Distract your fingers and hands.

If you can't seem to redirect your thoughts, the next best thing is to occupy your digits in hopes that your brain will soon follow their lead. Luckily, there are a lot of ways to do this. You can squeeze stress balls, cook something that requires getting your hands all sticky, or teach yourself how to do origami or knit through an online tutorial.

8. Power pose your heart out.

When Harvard University's Amy Cuddy set out to explore the science of power posing, her intent was definitely not to help people tackle the post breakup blues. She was more concerned with empowering people professionally through mastery of body language cues, but whatever. The beauty of power posing is that it actually works. So stand tall, punch the air a few times like a boxing champion, spread your wings as wide as possible, place your arms on your hips with determination, or kick your legs up a la Obama while leaning back in your desk chair. You'll be feeling awesomer and in control in no time.

9. Watch a revenge themed movie.

Sometimes, vicarious revenge is just as good as the real thing. Plus, a good film is a great form of escapism. So stream Kill Bill, The Girl With The Dragoon Tattoo, Memento, or Inglorious Bastards stat to get your mind off your old boyfriend. The urge to stalk him online will fade fast.

10. Take a walk—without your phone.

It's tough, I know. But leaving your phone behind will free you from the urge to cyberstalk entirely. Actually, it will just rob you of the ability to cyberstalk. Sometimes, drastic measures are necessary. An added benefit of going phoneless is that doing so will force you to tackle the world without leaning on technology for guidance, which will make you feel super resourceful and boost your self-confidence. Go you!

11. Work out really hard.

When you're struggling to quiet your Google flexer, pushing your body’s limits at the gym is a good idea for several reasons. Sprinting on the treadmill as fast as possible and lifting more weight than usual are both forms of physical venting, which allows you to heal without articulating your frustrations. Plus, exercising leads to the release of happy making endorphins. As you work out, you're also bound to remember that you're a hot piece of ass who will soon land a new partner (assuming you haven't already) and start having way better sex than you ever did with the old guy.

12. Vent anonymously in an online forum.

If you're friends are busy and/or bored of your sob story and you don't feel like writing in your journal because you crave at least an emoji in response to your big questions and totally valid complaints, you might as well tap the Internet for support. Sure, it's a bit risky to put yourself in the position to open a new tab in your browser and let your inner stalker go wild simultaneously, but with a dose of discipline you can get what you need and keep yourself busy trash talking your ex (anonymously of course) by joining or starting a chat thread entitled something like “Why My Ex Needs To Eat Shit And Die.” TC mark

Read This If You’re 25 And Not Sure If You’re An Adult Yet

Posted: 04 Sep 2015 12:49 PM PDT

The adult skills I didn't have in college, I still didn't have after graduation. I had to learn them—sometimes painfully and almost always haltingly, the process often involving a fetal-position or shower-crying stage.
StockSnap / Benjamin Combs
StockSnap / Benjamin Combs

The other day, I was tutoring Carrie, a high school student whose sister had just visited for the holidays. Carrie described the sister to me: a marine biology major, heading off to teach abroad in Asia, and—she added—"she's 22 and old."

I'm 25, but Carrie has no idea, which makes me think that she either imagines I'm younger (blame the freckles), or that I'm so old I'm beyond caring about being called old. If it's the latter, I still don't blame her.

When I was 16, I had no clear concept of being in my twenties. Vaguely, I thought that I might have a sunny studio apartment with a futon bed, a rice cooker, and a stack of Glamour magazines on the bottom of my bookshelf (a setting that I stole straight from my downstairs neighbor Julie, the only young-ish adult I knew). By 25, I imagined I might be married and ready to have kids, certainly a real adult with a pleasant office job and a daily yoga practice.

To be fair, at 16, I also imagined college as a place where people wore sweaters and sat under trees talking about philosophy, where I would arrive alarmingly inexperienced with no backpacking stories and all the wrong music. Then one day before leaving for college, it hit me: a new era wouldn't mean immediate, sweeping change.

In my parents' house in August or in a dorm in September, I would still be me, and my classmates, still a bunch of people the same age as me. We'd change and grow over time, yes, but human development doesn't happen instantaneously. At 18, I might still have all the same faults as I did at 17, but on the bright side, the same qualities and passions too.

Post-college, I'm learning this lesson over and over again. The adult skills I didn't have in college (like feeding myself on a budget or choosing car insurance), I still didn't have after graduation. Instead, I had to decide which I needed to learn first to survive, then learn them—sometimes painfully and almost always haltingly, the process often involving a fetal-position or shower-crying stage.

Just as I begin to feel better about one skill, five more gaps inevitably call for my attention and I realize that I'll never run out of things to learn: how to cook for nutrition instead of just convenience, how to not kill plants, how to be a helpful adult daughter rather than an entitled adolescent one, how to grow a thicker skin, how to live my life in the most fulfilling way.

Twenty five doesn't look the way I imagined as a teenager, for me or for most of my friends, many of whom are also grad students or just beginning careers that involve paying lots of dues. I could never have guessed what a strange period of life it would be, a true "emerging adulthood" of both late nights at In-n-Out Burger and the beginnings of crow's feet.

Our bodies will grow older the longer we live, but that's where passive transformation stops. If, with age, we also hope to grow wiser or happier, only we can decide how that looks and go after it. TC mark

I’m Proud Of My Bikini And The Belly That Comes With It

Posted: 03 Sep 2015 07:48 AM PDT

On Christmas morning, when I was 10 years old, I sat down on the couch to open my stocking, waiting for the rest of the family to wake up and join me after having their coffee. When my great-grandmother entered the room, the first thing she said to me was, “When are you going to stop getting so fat?”

I remember feeling horribly embarrassed, tugging at my pajama top to ensure it was covering my belly, squirming in my seat, hoping to appear smaller.

It’s been nearly 20 years since that moment and I don’t think it will ever TRULY leave me, although I know I’d have a much different answer these days.

Moments like this dotted my entire childhood. Around age 8 or 9, my tiny childish figure began to fill out, and from then on I always felt like the pudgy kid, despite never being obese or unhealthy. I just wasn’t a beanpole like I had been for years before.

At age 10, when my great-grandmother said the words which she may have believed were well-meaning, my self-esteem and self-worth dropped even lower than it had already been and I’m not sure it recovered until after I gave birth to my daughter.

In my teens, I wasn’t good to my body. I felt, like many, that I was invincible but of course this wasn’t the case. My lifelong body image battle has seen its ups and downs but there were definitely dark moments of body-hatred in my late teens/early 20s that impacted me for years.

At 23, when I gave birth to my daughter, my body was something else altogether. It was power. It was strength. And when I looked in the mirror, it was scary.

The stretch-marks that had crawled across my belly, thighs, and breasts as my body swelled with a growing baby were markers of what I’d been through and what I now was — a mother.

I grappled with feeling both exhilarated that my body was capable of something so incredible, and horrified that my body would never be beautiful or attractive.

Those thoughts stuck with me during those first years of motherhood and during my separation from my daughter’s father. The idea of feeling attractive seemed useless — it seemed like something from my past. I didn’t feel worthy.

However, my story has a happy ending — or shall we say, a happy new beginning.

Eventually, after years of what some may call “soul-searching,” of getting REAL with myself, of deciding what really matters, and surrounding myself with positive, wonderful women, it hit me: If I couldn’t love (not accept, but LOVE) my own body, how could I ever teach my daughter to love hers?

Last year, I felt so miserable about my body that I wouldn’t even wear a bathing suit to take my daughter swimming. I could nearly cry just typing those words.

I had to admit to myself that what I was doing wasn’t only ridiculous, but it was selfish and harmful. I had actually let my fear of my own body stand in the way of enjoying time with my child.

Well, sh*t. There it was. In that moment I found truth that I needed to hear. It came from within me and it hit me like a smack in the face.

I had to fix it. I couldn’t go back in time and apologize to my child and tell her WHY I wouldn’t go to the beach or come swimming. But I could move forward and show her that bodies are beautiful and that I love mine. Around that time, I read this article and was inspired.

I would buy a bikini. And I would freaking’ wear it. And I wouldn’t apologize or hide or be afraid. I would just DO IT.

And I did.

I ordered the cutest, high waist, sexy-as-hell bikini I could find online and I didn’t give myself a choice but to put the damn thing on and wear it. And you know what? I love my bikini!

Screen Shot 2015-09-03 at 10.37.51 AM

It’s comfortable, it’s cute, and it makes me feel like a goddess.

My first “bikini moment” was in Arizona when I wore it poolside at a blogging conference. No one gawked at my thighs or was offended by my pale legs. No one scoffed at my belly. No one was grossed out by my stretch marks.

It turns out that never wearing a bikini + never thinking I could = never realizing how amazing it would feel when I finally got over my sh*t and just did it.

For the first time in my entire life, I’m excited about going to the beach.

I couldn’t wait to take my daughter to the pond at our trailer, and when we got there I ran into the water to be with her, splashing away, and not giving a single thought to what the world might think because I was the only one who cared. TC mark