I woke up early this morning and couldn’t go back to sleep. A car had driven past my window and I caught a snippet of a song that flooded my mind with sad memories. I allowed myself to float in those memories for a while, until I realized that the emotions tied to them were bringing me down. I needed to get up and do something. So I walked over to my computer and opened Word.
- learn three new songs on guitar
- read a book of poetry
- take my mom to all my favorite DC spots
- take a coding class
- get my cavity taken care of (quit delaying this Stephanie!!)
- have a romantic bubble bath
- read six books
- make a big breakfast for no reason at all (DONE)
- grow an indoor herb garden
- organize all my favorite recipes in one place
- try sushi (DONE)
- buy flowers from a real florist (i.e. not the grocery store)
- try six new restaurants
Why are we talking about Myers-Briggs again? Because personality type can inform career performance and goals, which I believe is relevant for a website dedicated to sharing my oeuvre.
Every year, the graduating class of C*****n Elementary School would walk down the street to the R*** Ranch for barbecue and western dancing. We were chatting cheerfully as we walked past my family’s ranch and the S****’s farm on the way to the party. Most of my classmates were just excited to hang out together outside of school; others were anxious to meet the other children who were going to be there. It was a tradition for the sixth grade class to spend a day with local developmentally disabled children. Very few of us had experience with ‘slow’ people, so we did not know what to expect.
The Dewey Color System® is purported to be the world's most accurate career testing instrument. This report is based on my personality traits and indicates my two most enjoyable day-day-day occupation skills.
The Sun is barely streaking through my window as I wake up to the sound of plants being chewed. I roll over and peer out my blinds to see a deer staring intently at me. After a few seconds, I blow a raspberry and watch her scamper off down the packed dirt road. It is July 1992. I throw on a T-shirt and shorts, and rush to the kitchen to beat my sister to a bowl of Lucky Charms. My mind wanders to the symphony of ‘tick tock, tick tock’ and my dad beating mud off his boots in the garage. He enters, grunts in my direction, and settles down to watch the 6am news.
He never walks
but sweeps into rooms
Eyes full of mischief
hands full of secrets.
Wonder what he has today
as he calls my name
Carried by his wind
tickles my ear.
I turn around and he's not there
Like a bee he has
Back to the computer
images writhing into place
Blink once... twice...
Eyes drift to
I missed him again...
I sit here on a bench just outside the house amongst the vegetables and herbs – a menagerie of crisp leaves, delicate buds, and ancient roots. Surrounding the garden is an array of vines, flowers, weeds and ivies such as I have never seen; vibrant purples, golds, oranges, whites, and greens. The breeze pauses for moment and I catch the gentle buzz of a nearby bee indulging itself on a smorgasbord of delicate pollen. I’m surprised that my allergies aren’t betraying me.