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Archive for the ‘Personal Stories’Category
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After seeing a link for a career matchmaking test on Rebecca’s blog, I’m not sure what to make of my future.
2. Massage Therapist
6. Pet Groomer
7. Security Systems Technician
9. Sign Maker
Aside from being utterly depressing, these results are just…strange. I’m pretty sure I put “meh” on the questions about using tools. I don’t even get a scientific career until Podiatrist at #20 (unless you count Prosthetist / Orthotist at #14, which I’m pretty sure has never been anyone’s dream job).
You can be similarly befuddled! Directions: Go to careercruising.com. Enter nycareers as the username and landmark as the password. Take the “Career Matchmaker” survey. Post the top ten results.
As many of you know, a couple weeks ago I started getting some strange email from a Met Onaplane with a throwaway Yahoo email, that I initially believed to be from a real life stalker (of sorts). His first email, while rather polite, invited me to a message board and primarily felt creepy because he was claiming to be someone who had sat next to me on the flight to London (where I neither gave an email nor a name)! However, the tale continued… Read the rest of this entry →
The last couple weekends my family has been busy exploring the newness of N. Carolina. Last weekend we drove to Asheville and saw the Linville Caverns and the Western NC Nature Center. Yesterday we took a day trip to see the NC Beach State Park which I’ve wanted to visit ever since I learned that venus fly traps are only native to that area. Though neither the insectivorous plants nor the orchids (also rumored to grow there) were blooming, it was still a very unique visit, as I’ve never seen a maritime forest. We then drove a few more miles to Kure Beach, where the girls resumed their beach glee and pandemonium that they instigated last year. It was a good day to be there, as the day was warm, and it seemed other swimmers, families, kite fliers, and surfers agreed.
Weight: more than 125 lbs (think v. unfair short people get smaller numbers for weight), self-indulgent books read: 1 (not good), self-indulgent conversations had: 10, alcohol units: 0 (v.g., but diminished perhaps by status of not drinking anyway), number of times fantasized about Colin Firth: 0 (hmm, must do something about that)
Did indulge in reading Bridget Jones: Edge of Reason (only $1 at the thrift shop, justified as must catch up with rest of society). Feel frightened that I must now think like her, also frightened by seeming obsession with Pride and Prejudice to blog-readers (simply not true). Feel sympathy for singletons everywhere, however, much gladness re: finding Mark (not Mark Darcy, Mark Hoopes) with little drama.
Also, do not see connection between character of Bridget and that of Elizabeth. Very offended.
Hope I never turn into Bridget Jones. Wonder how one knows if one is turning into a simpleton. Consoled by fact that I have skills.
Ability to use internet, esp. to google for facts and like items, re: important news around the world.
I can cook. Really well.
Does not constantly include everyone near me in private musings. Ok, maybe a little, if honest to self.
Have never read self-help book. Perhaps there is a self-help book for people like me, along lines of Self-help for the Self-helpless.
Suddenly have idea for a new movie/book/other like media review site, where reviews presented in manner of the book or movie being reviewed. Am heartened by thoughts of Web Stardom. Fear that I do not remember the difference between syntax and diction, also must research artist’s voice. Also idea probably already done somewhere on web. Note to use google to find such thing. Unfortunately watch few movies. Books read slightly better. Resolve to watch movies of artsy nature, to increase presence of mind and ability to be coy and cunning. Also to impress Ashwan.
If I am to break radio silence, one must imagine that it could only be for something of dire importance, such as viewing Kiera Knightely in the new(ish) Pride and Prejudice, which book I am quite fond of. While it did not offend the sensibilities much to see Lizzie so beautiful, nor so astonishingly self-aware, one must inquire what the movie makers hoped to achieve by hitting the viewers over the head with the equivalent of a large-type leather-bound printing of the book. If one is to invent their own dialogue in the manner of Jane Austen, surely something better could be achieved than having Lizzie tell her father, “[Mr. Darcy and I] are so similar. We’re both so stubborn! *giggle*” Surely American viewers are not so dense as to require schooling in one of the main themes of such a well-known piece and collectively feel their intelligences to be insulted. Still, the movie managed to succeed in eliciting some feelings of romanticism regarding Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth, such has plagued scores of schoolgirls for centuries.
In other news, perhaps more important in some eyes than the above (though surely I’d have to ask where your priorities lie!), Mark and I have successfully traveled cross-country from Colorado via El Paso, Fort Worth, Memphis, and Morristown, TN, to our rightly state (or city) in Cary, NC. Being too lazy to rewrite some of which I already have, I direct you to my flickr set for that trip, some of which has narration. Also, we are under contract to buy a house with a pretty bit of ground and we’d invite all Shugenkai Summer School attendees to follow us back for the after-party, but since we would not yet own the house, we would soon tire of having the realtor let us in each time we desired to retire from the deck to the family room.
I apparently need to get to bed soon. My brain appears a bit fuddled still from that slightly confused movie.
The top layer of our layers of our recent excitement was last week’s trip with Shugenkai to the Badlands. Though we weren’t able to spend as much time together as on previous Shugenkai camping trips, there was still a lot of fun and stories. Many of the photos linked above contain those stories, though I just realized we didn’t capture any group photos, nor were any stories told about our flooded tent and crowding in the with the Dabneys… Or the tire annoyances… Or Matthew losing his wallet…
Being placed in an internment camp for opponents of the Iraq War was no small feat, especially to those who actually knew me. I didn’t even know I was opposed to the war, but now I walked to a large structure that resembled an overgrown parking garage, Katya riding her little pink Barbie bike behind me. Others would join us eventually, on the premise that we still had our freedom of speech. With past precedent of wartime internment camps, it wasn’t hard to make the jump from isolated speech zones to “long-term” speech zones to lessen the chance of treason.
This particular camp grew corn and made quite good money producing it into alcohol. Economically camps seemed to have some freedom, just as long as it was a designated crop. Looking at the grey concrete structure, I wasn’t exactly sure where the corn grew. However, I was sure that the people actually growing it were bound to be a relief from the world I was being forced out of, perhaps with a few ideologies or morals. I hoped that a collusion of like souls would move me somewhere I had not been before.
As I approached the entrance, a woman approached me and we exchanged trivialities for a few minutes regarding the schedule I’d follow. She noticed Katya riding on a lower level and sharply growled, glancing over at a rack of downtrodden grey bikes. “She can’t keep that. The other residents would surely hurt her to get it.”