About why INFPs aren’t always pure and sometimes downright dangerous
I usually don’t post anything about MBTI on this blog, but there’s something I really need to get off my chest about INFP.
I’m INFP myself, and what I hate the most is that we’re mostly portrayed as kind, daydreaming beings, too good for this world, too pure. No. We aren’t.
Our dominant Fi means we’re lead by our own ethical agenda and our corresponding emotions - in a lot of cases, this makes us understanding, peaceful, and mindful of others because we believe that’s the right thing to do. We are perceived as Good Beings™ because society values compassion.
But remember, it’s because we believe in this agenda, and made it our very core.
And now I’m thinking about it. So where did little Anna and Elsa get the materials to make Olaf the first time?
Believe it or not, the snow is actually the easiest thing to get an answer for. Elsa. Elsa made the snow in the middle of the ballroom. But what about everything else?
The carrot we can assume they swiped from the kitchen. That must have happened off-screen sometime during their “let’s have fun in the snow before everything goes to shit” montage. We can also assume that the stones used for Olaf’s eyes and buttons are likely lumps of coal, which could have also been found in the kitchen/staff quarters areas as there are probably coal-based furnaces around those areas. It’s possible they’re charred bits of logs from a fireplace, but coal is the more likely option.
And now we get to the twigs. Because that is an excellent question to be asking: just where did an eight year old and a five year old get twigs from in a large, ornately decorated castle? There aren’t many places I can think of that would have twigs just lying around. Maybe an old broom? But the sticks making up his arms don’t look like they’d be used in a broom. I also doubt this was the time period to be decorating interiors with random sticks. None of the pieces are big enough to be considered kindling, either, so they likely wouldn’t have even been brought inside with the other firewood. So, as a result we can assume they got them from outside. It might just be that wooded courtyard we saw in FTFTIF, but still…outside. Through several main corridors, past several large and heavy doors, and outside into a courtyard that is encompassed by either more castle or a wall (likely) patrolled by guards.
So how in the flying fuck did these two giggling dorks sneak through the halls, gather up a carrot, several lumps of coal, and head outside to find the perfect sticks for snowmen hands/hair without getting caught? Seriously, if Anna had never been struck by Elsa’s magic the first thing I’d be thinking about if I was their mother and caught them in the act was ‘you got how far outside without a single person noticing???’ Where the hell were the guards? And servants working night shifts? We know the castle was fully staffed at this point, and unless the King and Queen sleep in their day clothes it probably wasn’t that late (maybe like, 11:30PM-1AM ish?), so people should still have been up. So what gives?
I like to think there are a couple options here. The first being that these two are fucking ninjas. When they aren’t giggling at each other’s antics, they are to be feared. Because one minute they might be in the ballroom, the next on the other side of the castle. And you’d never even know. The giggling is the only way you know where they are. And I personally really like this idea because it kinda calls back to the parts in the cut songs about them terrorizing their mean tutors and just getting into mischief. Like, Elsa might be able to be a good, calm, obedient little girl when she has to be, but don’t let that demeanour fool you: she’s the ring leader. And Anna’s perfectly following in her footsteps. So when these two get it in their heads that they’re going to do something - they’ll fucking do it. Just try to stop them. They’ve already snuck off back into the shadows where you’ll never find them.
The second option is also just as good: they both suck at being sneaky. Anna giggles her head off the whole time, and Elsa’s not much better. Anna’s really good at knocking over stuff, and Elsa will leave little hints of frost or snow around when she’s doing something she knows she shouldn’t be doing. But the castle staff know them, and know they’re just playing a game. So maybe the chef will leave a single, perfectly nose-shaped carrot on a stool in the kitchen so they don’t hurt themselves trying to climb the shelves in the store room. Or maybe there’ll be a few extra pieces of coal near the stove already bundled up in a cloth so they don’t get too dirty carrying them around. Or maybe even some twigs have been left on top of the woodpile nearby. And maybe the guards patrolling the grounds just pretend the infectious giggling coming from behind a suit of armour was merely the wind. Or Gerda will continue to walk past a set of curtains with two pairs of little feet poking out the bottom. Or maybe Kai will make sure to leave the ballroom unlocked.
Either way, both of these options also have sad connotations to them. The first option implies that after the accident, Elsa would have continued to use her sneaking around skills to make sure she didn’t make too much noise in her room. Maybe she still wandered around the castle at night or in the early morning but had to be sure to do so without drawing too much attention, for fear that Anna might be around looking to play. And Anna’s ability fell into disuse as she had no one to sneak around with, and she wanted to do anything to get her sister’s attention - hence, making noise.
And with the second option would come with guilt felt by all the members of the staff who had gotten complacent in allowing the princesses to play. Imagine how Kai must have felt if he had left the ballroom open for that evening and then everything had abruptly and devastatingly changed by morning? Anna nearly died, and Elsa had gone from a happy-go-lucky little kid to an emotionally traumatized heir who had her childhood cut incredibly short all thanks to one accident. Imagine the staff members who remained after that night vowing to never get that complacent again.
Wow, this went from a slightly amusing piece simply asking how two little kids managed to find sticks in a royal palace for building a snowman indoors to angst. Why does Frozen do this to me?