I've been in a relatively good mood today, and I noticed that I had a few thoughts going through my mind that seemed to resemble Ne. I relate heavily to the negative aspects of tertiary/inferior Si, and I wouldn't be surprised if that's whats been keeping me (and others on this forum) from noticing Ne in myself during the severe (in every sense of the word) depressive episode I've been going through for the past 4-5 months.
For example, I was at the gym earlier, when I noticed that the one bathroom stall was occupied (I have a terrible habit of changing in them, they make me feel like batman). Based on the noises I was hearing, the person occupying the stall was taking a dump. I waited 10 minutes in complete silence, watching people come in and out (I wondered if they thought I was some sort of peeping tom, since the bench I was sitting on was conveniently situated by the urinals),and started to wonder what was going on in there. For a second, I wondered whether or not he had already left while I was immersed in thought, and I tilted my head to peak under the bathroom stall door. I noticed the same 2 sneakers I had seen earlier when I walked in. I then entertained the possibility (jokingly) that perhaps he was taking cocaine (in a rather awkward sitting position, perhaps he had a piece of cardboard), and started to wonder whether or not it would've improved his performance drastically. I imagined the person in question, in a cocained-induced rage, lifting an exaggerated amount of weight in front of a crowd of onlookers (planet fitness would call him a lunk). I then concluded that it would likely only improve his endurance, although perhaps under the influenced of the drug, he'd be delusional enough to lift more than he's capable of, in which case, it would probably result in injury (although he probably wouldn't feel it until after the comedown, or maybe the injury would be the comedown). I was entertained by all of this. After about 5 minutes I started to worry about him and considered alerting someone, but then I figured it would've been incredibly embarrassing for him if he were just sitting there, shooting the breeze for a moment, enjoying a moment of solitude and relaxation (well, selfishly) after excreting a massive amount of feces. After all, it's not uncommon for me to do the same.
After a couple more minutes, I grew frustrated and decided to go to the locker room in order to change, and jokingly concluded that he was likely taking heroin (what a terrible thing to joke about. I'm a bit ashamed in retrospect) considering how idle he was. Once I got to the locker room, I felt self-conscious (like I always have) about taking my shirt off, but then I figured if any of the men in there gave my body more than a passing glance, I should be flattered. I changed, left, and laughed at the absurdity of the underwhelmingly pointless, boring situation I had conjured up in my head, which I somehow found amusing. I still wondered about his well-being. I thought I'd ease my mind a bit by imagining that he finished his internal monologue on the complexities of human emotion, picked up his pants (after wiping, of course), and left. Either that, or I had just committed an act of sadism.
Is that Ne, or just Six-ness at full-swing? I already regret writing all this (it's pretty morbid.....and corny), but it's interesting. To me, anyway.