I love putting people in boxes. No, not coffins, thank you very much. I love "role playing" real people and trying to predict how they'd react by walking in their shoes. Which brings me to a corny joke.
Before insulting someone, walk a mile in his shoes. That way you'll be a mile away and have his shoes.
The Meyers-Briggs types can be super creepy, actually. If you do it right and read the personality profile it feels like someone's been stalking your mind and read your soul. It's pretty cool. I've realized tons of stuff about me that I've never thought. Like, how I react to other people. They say things that make me think about myself (and now I'm a total centered jerk) and notice when I'm falling into the pot holes my type is prone to. It's the kind of stuff that I've never been able to put a finger on, but I've always hated about myself.
Also, once you know your type you can search for famous people who have your personality! I have some really gnarly ones: Magneto, Napoleon Bonaparte, Steve Jobs, the Green Goblin, Julius Caesar, Harrison Ford, Darth Vadar, Margaret Thatcher, the Evil Queen from Snow White, Aristotle, Yzma, Bill Gates, Fire Lord Ozai, Matt Damon, Lord Voldemort, Adele, Syndrome, Steve Martin, and Sauron.
Wow. All of the fictional characters are bad guys. That's...actually kinda sad. ENTJs are just so mean that we can't be believable unless we're evil. O_o Now I'm going to have to become a major super villain or deal with low self esteem for the rest of my life.
But back to the boxes of people. I just think it's so cool that, to a certain extent, people act the same way. It's possible to track why and how people do things and respond to situations. Isn't that SO AWESOME? It's really rewarding, just reading through my personality profile. Granted, not all of it applies to me, but over 96% is spot on. It's nice to know that I'm not the only one out there that's as weird and twisted as I am. And hardly any of the real people are evil super villains! There is hope yet!
Monday, January 27, 2014
Sunday, January 26, 2014
Safe and Sound
San Francisco is an amazing city. It's beautiful. The buildings are simply breath taking, and the views are wonderful too. It's so different from my hometown that I was set to move there within about ten minutes. How awesome would that be? Working at that crazy cool bakery (the name of which escapes me...) by day, wandering the streets and seeing the sights by night? Toats mcgoats.
We didn't arrive in the city till 8pm, and immediately sought to fill our bellies with the infamous clam chowder, so we set off on foot to the wharf. An hour later I was sitting on a bench with my sister, blowing on the blazing hot spoonfuls of deliciousness. After the victuals had been consumed my clan of high schoolers adjusted our route home (aka the floor of a church's gym) to accommodate the Ghirardelli factory (aka heaven). The first thing that hit you when you walked into that divine store was the smell. I've never though of chocolate as having an outstanding scent, but it does, and it smells like heaven. But I repeat myself. It had this gnarly chocolate bath machine that "aerated the mixture to the precise consistency to attain perfection." I lied. It didn't really say that, I just wanted to put something in quotations. Back to the subject: we stood in front of that thing for probably fifteen minutes. And we only moved because a friend had bought hot chocolate and was sharing which inspired multiple others to by their own (it tasted like heaven).
We finally made our way back to the gym, and were surprised that the 300 college who were letting us stay with them weren't there yet. The busses must have been stuck in traffic. After a few minutes of milling around and staking our claims to the best corners of the room we got down to business with a game of canasta. It was fun, but then again, pretty much everything is fun at 1 in the morning. It was one of the most uneventful/longest games I've ever played. By that time the students had arrived and we scattered and went our separate ways. I went straight to bed and snatched 6 of my 7 hours of sleep on the trip.
Evening came, and morning followed: the first day.
Wake up call was coming at 8am, so in order to get ahead of the rush a few girls (aka almost half of them) woke up at the un-godly hour of 7, rousing me in the process. I finally gave up all hope of going back to sleep and got dressed. There was nothing to do afterward, so I wasted an hour and a half sitting in the dark, writing. It was actually kind of fun. I was pretending I was in some sort of prison camp and couldn't be caught writing. My back still hurt from sleeping on the floor and I was hungry, both of which aided the illusion.
Mass was at the San Fran Cathedral. Can I be the first to say "ugh"? On the outside it looked like a failed bomb attack (no, actually the bomb) and on the inside it was a beehive crossed with a concentration camp crossed with something that would have a sparkly gold chandelier hanging from the ceiling. There was standing room only, so we sort of clumped up together behind the pews alongside about 200 other people. It was crowded. I was pretty skeptical before Mass started. It didn't look like a church, and it certainly didn't feel like one, what with billions of conversations going on. I've been to sports games that were quieter than that. But I was surprised. The Mass beautiful (or at least what I could see of it from behind those tall heads) and the bishop gave a really nice homily.
After the Mass we walked back to the van (which was parked over by where the walk would start) to eat lunch before marching. It took longer than expected, and we had to race up to the street in order to get there at 12:30. Well, we should have known, but everything was late. We ended up standing around for almost 2 hours. Granted, they were an excited 2 hours. Mercy got lost, and I got to brave the crowd of 60,000 to find her. It was an adventure. Even still, it only lasted about half an hour, so we had tons of time to waste. It would have been awesome if we'd stood where the speakers could be heard, but we didn't, so we missed a bunch of great speeches and rallies.
Okay, NOW I can talk about the Walk itself.
I would have felt a lot more helpful if we'd been praying or something, as opposed to just walking through the street, but, of course, the fact that we were being witnesses to the truth made it all worth while. It was pretty terrifying, actually. The street we marched on was lined with immense sky scrapers that loomed over us. Even backed by 60,000 Pro-Lifers it was quite daunting. One thing that really struck me was the protestation. It was really sad. These people were so misguided and uninformed. One of the mens' more prominent signs read, "Don't let those men bully you!" It made my heart race. I mean, think about it. 57 MILLION babies have been killed because of people like this. A lot of the women held signs saying stuff like, "trust yourselves, ladies." I wish they could trust other women to accept motherhood, not nip it in the bud. It was one of the scariest things I've ever experienced, and coming from a girl with an over active imagination, that's saying a lot.
Afterward it was more of the same. We finished the walk and made our way back to the van after grabbing a bite to eat. This time we made a detour through Chinatown, which had tons of cheap tourist attractions, like license plates with your names on it. Well, as long as your name was Claudia or Wesley. My friend was surprised to hear that Wesley was a real name, and we started talking about Princess Bride. Later, the same friend, who was ahead of me, burst into laughter and dragged me to the window of a shop. They had their TV on, playing Princess Bride in Chinese. Small world doesn't even cut it.
We were back at the parking lot around 6 and began the return journey. There was another five hours of Huck Finn interrupted by dinner at 8 again and various groggy eyed conversations. Well, they weren't so groggy-eyed after dinner, at which Mercy somehow got a hold of a mocha frappe and rationed it to almost the whole back two rows. THAT was crazy.
Towards the end of the trip I started nodding off then jerking myself awake. This was mainly because I had been thinking about the walk which merged into a dream. In the dream portion I would always be interviewed by a reporter or confronted by a protester, which inevitably ended in me making a fool of myself and my cause, tensing up in embarrassment, and jumping awake every ten minutes. It was almost stressful, but not half as bad as it would have been in real life.
Well, we were home by 1:30am, which means I had been gone for less than 36 hours. It still feels like so much more, in a good way :)
The moral of the story: pray for an end to abortion.
The alternate moral of the story: car trips go by so much faster if everyone either a) sleeps or b) gets hyped up on caffeine.
We didn't arrive in the city till 8pm, and immediately sought to fill our bellies with the infamous clam chowder, so we set off on foot to the wharf. An hour later I was sitting on a bench with my sister, blowing on the blazing hot spoonfuls of deliciousness. After the victuals had been consumed my clan of high schoolers adjusted our route home (aka the floor of a church's gym) to accommodate the Ghirardelli factory (aka heaven). The first thing that hit you when you walked into that divine store was the smell. I've never though of chocolate as having an outstanding scent, but it does, and it smells like heaven. But I repeat myself. It had this gnarly chocolate bath machine that "aerated the mixture to the precise consistency to attain perfection." I lied. It didn't really say that, I just wanted to put something in quotations. Back to the subject: we stood in front of that thing for probably fifteen minutes. And we only moved because a friend had bought hot chocolate and was sharing which inspired multiple others to by their own (it tasted like heaven).
We finally made our way back to the gym, and were surprised that the 300 college who were letting us stay with them weren't there yet. The busses must have been stuck in traffic. After a few minutes of milling around and staking our claims to the best corners of the room we got down to business with a game of canasta. It was fun, but then again, pretty much everything is fun at 1 in the morning. It was one of the most uneventful/longest games I've ever played. By that time the students had arrived and we scattered and went our separate ways. I went straight to bed and snatched 6 of my 7 hours of sleep on the trip.
Evening came, and morning followed: the first day.
Wake up call was coming at 8am, so in order to get ahead of the rush a few girls (aka almost half of them) woke up at the un-godly hour of 7, rousing me in the process. I finally gave up all hope of going back to sleep and got dressed. There was nothing to do afterward, so I wasted an hour and a half sitting in the dark, writing. It was actually kind of fun. I was pretending I was in some sort of prison camp and couldn't be caught writing. My back still hurt from sleeping on the floor and I was hungry, both of which aided the illusion.
Mass was at the San Fran Cathedral. Can I be the first to say "ugh"? On the outside it looked like a failed bomb attack (no, actually the bomb) and on the inside it was a beehive crossed with a concentration camp crossed with something that would have a sparkly gold chandelier hanging from the ceiling. There was standing room only, so we sort of clumped up together behind the pews alongside about 200 other people. It was crowded. I was pretty skeptical before Mass started. It didn't look like a church, and it certainly didn't feel like one, what with billions of conversations going on. I've been to sports games that were quieter than that. But I was surprised. The Mass beautiful (or at least what I could see of it from behind those tall heads) and the bishop gave a really nice homily.
After the Mass we walked back to the van (which was parked over by where the walk would start) to eat lunch before marching. It took longer than expected, and we had to race up to the street in order to get there at 12:30. Well, we should have known, but everything was late. We ended up standing around for almost 2 hours. Granted, they were an excited 2 hours. Mercy got lost, and I got to brave the crowd of 60,000 to find her. It was an adventure. Even still, it only lasted about half an hour, so we had tons of time to waste. It would have been awesome if we'd stood where the speakers could be heard, but we didn't, so we missed a bunch of great speeches and rallies.
Okay, NOW I can talk about the Walk itself.
I would have felt a lot more helpful if we'd been praying or something, as opposed to just walking through the street, but, of course, the fact that we were being witnesses to the truth made it all worth while. It was pretty terrifying, actually. The street we marched on was lined with immense sky scrapers that loomed over us. Even backed by 60,000 Pro-Lifers it was quite daunting. One thing that really struck me was the protestation. It was really sad. These people were so misguided and uninformed. One of the mens' more prominent signs read, "Don't let those men bully you!" It made my heart race. I mean, think about it. 57 MILLION babies have been killed because of people like this. A lot of the women held signs saying stuff like, "trust yourselves, ladies." I wish they could trust other women to accept motherhood, not nip it in the bud. It was one of the scariest things I've ever experienced, and coming from a girl with an over active imagination, that's saying a lot.
Afterward it was more of the same. We finished the walk and made our way back to the van after grabbing a bite to eat. This time we made a detour through Chinatown, which had tons of cheap tourist attractions, like license plates with your names on it. Well, as long as your name was Claudia or Wesley. My friend was surprised to hear that Wesley was a real name, and we started talking about Princess Bride. Later, the same friend, who was ahead of me, burst into laughter and dragged me to the window of a shop. They had their TV on, playing Princess Bride in Chinese. Small world doesn't even cut it.
We were back at the parking lot around 6 and began the return journey. There was another five hours of Huck Finn interrupted by dinner at 8 again and various groggy eyed conversations. Well, they weren't so groggy-eyed after dinner, at which Mercy somehow got a hold of a mocha frappe and rationed it to almost the whole back two rows. THAT was crazy.
Towards the end of the trip I started nodding off then jerking myself awake. This was mainly because I had been thinking about the walk which merged into a dream. In the dream portion I would always be interviewed by a reporter or confronted by a protester, which inevitably ended in me making a fool of myself and my cause, tensing up in embarrassment, and jumping awake every ten minutes. It was almost stressful, but not half as bad as it would have been in real life.
Well, we were home by 1:30am, which means I had been gone for less than 36 hours. It still feels like so much more, in a good way :)
The moral of the story: pray for an end to abortion.
The alternate moral of the story: car trips go by so much faster if everyone either a) sleeps or b) gets hyped up on caffeine.
Friday, January 24, 2014
Walk for Life
I'm heading out to San Fran for the walk for life in moments. Prayers for safety and that we are sufficient witnesses to the truth would be appreciated! I'll probably have loads to talk about when I get back, so stay tuned!
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
SHERLOCK
It's here. It's finally here. The episode we've all been waiting for. After two years The Empty Hearse has arrived, bringing with it unfathomable mixed feelings. I seriously don't know what to think about this. I've been waiting for so long that, I must admit, it was disappointing. Not the way I would have done it.
*MAJOR SPOILERS*
So, first off, can I say that I love John? He's just so believable. He really brings the show down to earth and humanizes it. Doesn't need a wink and a smile and a wink to do it either.
Secondly, I'm pretty sure that I officially hate Sherlock. Like, seriously. There were about three to many practical jokes made at poor Dr. Watson's expense.
Now, about Sherlock's fall: I really can't decide. I'm sure that I would have been disappointed any way that they did it, but that doesn't justify leaving us in the lurch. Personally, I would have been content with Anderson's theory. It worked; it was classy. Anything is better than a bouncy house.
Mary. Yes. I love her. I was sad to see Sarah go, way back in the first season, but Mary beats her hands down. She's perfect for John, and will contribute a lot to the show.
The effects in this episode left something to be desired. Namely, nothing. I kept being shocked into reality whenever Sherlock went into his Mind Palace. It was just too much.
I really did love how all the characters reacted. Mrs. Hudson was priceless, Lastrade was sweet, and John should have socked him in the jaw sooner. But despite this, it worked our pretty perfectly.
Oh! There's another thing I loved! I've seen two out of the three theories on the internet. The writers must have had a lot of fun trolling their fandom's Pinterest and fanfic sites for that!!
Even still, the show must have been partially successful because I cried twice. It would have been more, if it wasn't for that funny scene change from the train car to the joke on Anderson. The thing is that I never (like, ever) cry for Sherlock's sake. I just really really sympathize with John, and the only times I've ever wanted to cry for Sherlock it turns out he's just fooling everyone and I now look like an idiot. Even in Rachenbach I only started bawling my eyes out when John was visiting at his grave.
"Don't be dead"
Oh gosh.
*END NOT SO MAJOR SPOILERS*
Here I am, at the end of this ranting/praising post, and I still don't know my overall opinion. Maybe I'll just wait till the other two come out. That'll give me two years to construct my decision before Season 4. This is sad.
Monday, January 20, 2014
Third Place!!
Last night was possibly the funnest dance I've ever been to. Now I'm not going to be able to do it justice, but it was seriously wonderful. It was a birthday dance for an acquaintance, so I had some doubts going into it, but, like I said, it turned out to be the best ever.
It's really hard to explain things like dances. Really it's just an accumulation of hundreds of little excitements and joys which, added together, equal pure epicness. It was just a mad dash of fun. The excitement when someone asks you to dance. The giddiness when it's over. The chats around punch and snacks.
Okay, I lied. There is one story which I will tell you about last night. After that I'll try my hardest to shut up about it. We'll see how that pans out.
There was kind of a lull in the music. They'd been playing some weird country songs that were next to impossible to dance to, so I was standing with some friends, gorging myself with birthday cake and laughing about the music. One of the songs ended and the MC announced that there would be a slew of waltzes coming up, including a waltz contest. There was nothing to lose, and they said there were prizes, so a few of us took our places on the floor.
I've only ever officially learned the box step, and my partner was in pretty much the same boat, so we just joked around the whole time, and made up about half a dozen moves. It was a blast. We had a slow spin and a double time spin, a dip and a back to back and a promenade. Then we combined everything and did them one after another with only minor injuries. Toes heal quickly, I've been told.
The song ended (is it just me, or do waltzes last like twice as long as other songs?) and we kind of clumped up again. I was parched, so I ran off to get a drink, and they started announcing the finalists without me. I couldn't really hear, but I could have sworn that they said "Abby and her partner." Then I heard "Mercy and her partner." I ran back to congratulate her, and half way there receive a hug from my partner. We'd BOTH made the finals! And then we heard our other friends called up. So, out of the four competing couples, three of them were from my friends! It was pretty gnarly. In the end Mercy and I tied for 3rd, my friend got second, and the birthday girl's brother and his fiance won first. But it was so fun I can't even talk.
Just really quickly:
It's really hard to explain things like dances. Really it's just an accumulation of hundreds of little excitements and joys which, added together, equal pure epicness. It was just a mad dash of fun. The excitement when someone asks you to dance. The giddiness when it's over. The chats around punch and snacks.
Okay, I lied. There is one story which I will tell you about last night. After that I'll try my hardest to shut up about it. We'll see how that pans out.
There was kind of a lull in the music. They'd been playing some weird country songs that were next to impossible to dance to, so I was standing with some friends, gorging myself with birthday cake and laughing about the music. One of the songs ended and the MC announced that there would be a slew of waltzes coming up, including a waltz contest. There was nothing to lose, and they said there were prizes, so a few of us took our places on the floor.
I've only ever officially learned the box step, and my partner was in pretty much the same boat, so we just joked around the whole time, and made up about half a dozen moves. It was a blast. We had a slow spin and a double time spin, a dip and a back to back and a promenade. Then we combined everything and did them one after another with only minor injuries. Toes heal quickly, I've been told.
The song ended (is it just me, or do waltzes last like twice as long as other songs?) and we kind of clumped up again. I was parched, so I ran off to get a drink, and they started announcing the finalists without me. I couldn't really hear, but I could have sworn that they said "Abby and her partner." Then I heard "Mercy and her partner." I ran back to congratulate her, and half way there receive a hug from my partner. We'd BOTH made the finals! And then we heard our other friends called up. So, out of the four competing couples, three of them were from my friends! It was pretty gnarly. In the end Mercy and I tied for 3rd, my friend got second, and the birthday girl's brother and his fiance won first. But it was so fun I can't even talk.
Just really quickly:
- A few posts ago I talked about our youth group. It's turning out really well! Our first meeting of the year was on Tuesday, and I think it was very coherent and well oriented throughout the night. Let's hope it stays that way!!
- I'm really tired right now and am not looking forward to four hours of Irish dancing today
- I'M WATCHING SHERLOCK TONIGHT! It's going to be so amazing I can't even think. Oh my gosh. This is really happening, peoples!
Friday, January 17, 2014
Growing Up
Haha. Yes, I do see you snickering to yourself. What does she know about growing up? She's what, 16? And not the tallest girl in the room either.
Actually, that's saying a lot since no one else is in the room. *groaner* Moving on.
This year I've been thinking quite a lot about the future, but this week I've been repeatedly reminded of the past. My past, which obviously includes some interesting stories.
A few weeks ago after Mass I got to chatting with a young mom and, since we hadn't talked in a while she used the old fall back conversation. You know the one. "I remember when you were yea high..." and the like. At the time all I could think about was how mortally embarrassing the whole situation was, but now I'm able to appreciate it for what it was, a disturbingly accurate story foreshadowing my (then) future.
"You were this small, little thing," then, catching herself, "You must have been three." Unfortunately, the height which she had motioned would have also been my 4 year old height, 5 year old height, and probably 6 year old height. But I digress. "We were in Bakersfield for someone's first Communion and afterward we went to your aunt and uncles house (you remember them?) for the reception. You were in some pink frilly dress and you were feeling very girly. You came outside where there were a bunch of little boys rough housing and, well, being boys. Out you come, and from across the yard I hear your distressed voice, "Kids. Kids! Stop that! Someone might get hurt!"
o_O
Then yesterday I was thinking about past birthdays and came across this spare memory.
It was probably my 6th or 7th birthday and for a present my grandma invited me for a sleepover. Now I realize that that was my parents' scheme for getting us kids out of the house for a big surprise, but then I was blissfully ignorant. After breakfast my grandma apologized about not wrapping my present, and pulled out a bicycle horn. It was pink and made the most obnoxious noise and I loved it. I thought it was the beez kneez. I am ashamed to admit, though, that when, later that day, I received a pink bike from my parents I was absolutely surprised and thrilled. Like, I had NO idea that I'd get a bike.
I still do that, to some extent. I won't look at Christmas or birthday presents because I might inadvertently guess what's inside. I love expecting things too much that if I'm wrong I'm disappointed in whatever I get, so I just ignore all clues until it's time to open the present. And there is yet another profound insight into my soul. Peach out.
Actually, that's saying a lot since no one else is in the room. *groaner* Moving on.
This year I've been thinking quite a lot about the future, but this week I've been repeatedly reminded of the past. My past, which obviously includes some interesting stories.
A few weeks ago after Mass I got to chatting with a young mom and, since we hadn't talked in a while she used the old fall back conversation. You know the one. "I remember when you were yea high..." and the like. At the time all I could think about was how mortally embarrassing the whole situation was, but now I'm able to appreciate it for what it was, a disturbingly accurate story foreshadowing my (then) future.
"You were this small, little thing," then, catching herself, "You must have been three." Unfortunately, the height which she had motioned would have also been my 4 year old height, 5 year old height, and probably 6 year old height. But I digress. "We were in Bakersfield for someone's first Communion and afterward we went to your aunt and uncles house (you remember them?) for the reception. You were in some pink frilly dress and you were feeling very girly. You came outside where there were a bunch of little boys rough housing and, well, being boys. Out you come, and from across the yard I hear your distressed voice, "Kids. Kids! Stop that! Someone might get hurt!"
o_O
Then yesterday I was thinking about past birthdays and came across this spare memory.
It was probably my 6th or 7th birthday and for a present my grandma invited me for a sleepover. Now I realize that that was my parents' scheme for getting us kids out of the house for a big surprise, but then I was blissfully ignorant. After breakfast my grandma apologized about not wrapping my present, and pulled out a bicycle horn. It was pink and made the most obnoxious noise and I loved it. I thought it was the beez kneez. I am ashamed to admit, though, that when, later that day, I received a pink bike from my parents I was absolutely surprised and thrilled. Like, I had NO idea that I'd get a bike.
I still do that, to some extent. I won't look at Christmas or birthday presents because I might inadvertently guess what's inside. I love expecting things too much that if I'm wrong I'm disappointed in whatever I get, so I just ignore all clues until it's time to open the present. And there is yet another profound insight into my soul. Peach out.
I'm All In
Or I need to be. That's what life is. It isn't sitting around waiting for something great. YOU need to make it great. Heck, I watched Walter Mitty three times, and only now am I getting this.
Last semester my swim coach/Joe's Confirmation sponsor left for Peru to become a missionary. I admitted that it was pretty gnarly, but left it at that. Today Joe received a letter from him. My mom read it out loud, so I was momentarily distracted from my Biology (and I still am). It was powerful. Paul is working with dozens of penniless orphans who have nothing, yet still have everything to lose. He's helping them learn to pray, and trying to take care of their needs, but there just isn't enough to give them all. So he's given them his all.
He said that all of these kids have lived through more than he'd ever imagined possible. Most never knew their parents, and others were abused beyond sanity. He talked about being helpless to help them.
I'm glad I was in the other room (still within earshot) because tears were literally streaming down my face. It really struck a chord. I am really selfish; just about everything I do can be traced back to ME. Hearing about someone going all in, committing his whole life to helping those who have less than nothing, it's just incredible.
One of my latest fears has been The Future. What will I do with my life after college? I still don't know, but I do know what I want to do all the time. I want to bring Christ to others, loving Him through them.
Last semester my swim coach/Joe's Confirmation sponsor left for Peru to become a missionary. I admitted that it was pretty gnarly, but left it at that. Today Joe received a letter from him. My mom read it out loud, so I was momentarily distracted from my Biology (and I still am). It was powerful. Paul is working with dozens of penniless orphans who have nothing, yet still have everything to lose. He's helping them learn to pray, and trying to take care of their needs, but there just isn't enough to give them all. So he's given them his all.
He said that all of these kids have lived through more than he'd ever imagined possible. Most never knew their parents, and others were abused beyond sanity. He talked about being helpless to help them.
I'm glad I was in the other room (still within earshot) because tears were literally streaming down my face. It really struck a chord. I am really selfish; just about everything I do can be traced back to ME. Hearing about someone going all in, committing his whole life to helping those who have less than nothing, it's just incredible.
One of my latest fears has been The Future. What will I do with my life after college? I still don't know, but I do know what I want to do all the time. I want to bring Christ to others, loving Him through them.
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