I have decided technology isn't worth it.
It results in more frustration then is worth it at all costs.
Dang it.

Today's subject, extrovert vs. introvert.
Yup, I read and article on it the other day. So a subject that has spent about an hour on my thought list over my life time has been near the top for today.
I've been rating every-body I know. Cor, you are definitely a decided introvert. Sped, you're more extrovert. Ess, I haven't the slightest...extrovert?
Myself, I come out closer to the introvert end. I like my alone time. I can be perceived as quiet if you don't know me. I get crabby at times if forced to spend more then a week with somebody. I don't like phoning people on errands (i.e., the phone company). I don't display my "talents" or lack of, for the world to see. Indeed, is my last sentence not very introverted?
I don't really feel like an introvert inside. Other then the piece of my that revels in an afternoon on the couch with a good book. Extroverts have it easier.
I'm not all the quiet girl. If you know me, I'm loud, opinionated, and often the centre of attention. I like rollercoasters, and listen to rock.
You know what, I really don't have any of this figured out. Which is probably why I've been thinking about it for so long. And which is probably why I shouldn't be posting my lack of decided views on it.
So what's better? Super outgoing, always up for a party (another point, I'm never the first one to say let's go to sleep/home. Chalk up one for Kris the extrovert?) Or reflective and polite? It's not safe to wonder that (so don't. Stop thinking about I tell you).
In my mind, before, it had to do with how you grew up. I'm quiet in any big group because I never spent my adolescence in a room with twenty other kids (and who's not quiet when thrown in a big group of outgoing people?). But now I don't think so. I think if I had I would still be the same. I would just always be around kids I'm always around. Hence I would be the Kristen that you know when you've been around me a bit. Let's talk in circles, why don't we?
I'm not uncomfortable around people. I don't get sweaty at the thought of small talk. I'm not painfully shy. I just think I rate more as an introvert. And I'm wondering about posting this. Because I just don't know. And I don't want the world to think I'm what I'm not. See, introvert. I don't want people to think I stutter (at least, I don't very often anyway ;). But you all know me anyway. Right?
So introvert, extrovert, and whatever that means. Screw it, I'm Kris.

My poor bed. And poor me.
A couple nights ago my eyes started to close around seven. And it was with great pride and rejoicing that I was actually in bed with the lights out by eight thirty. This, as I'm sure you can guess is an extremely rare occurrence. In fact, practically non-existent. I settled down for my usual 1/2-1 hour random pointless thinking before drifting off. I was getting there too, when, ##bing## my eyes pop open. I glanced warily at my glowing alarm clock (which I hate, abhor, and despise, but couldn't live without). What met my gaze was the red 8:56. I groaned inwardly. O.k., fine, I believe it was out loud. I am well aware that my mental clock has trouble knowing that 9 to 11 is the usual time for working girls like me to go to bed. But no one can say I'm not a fighter. I turned my back, pretended I was still tired, and closed my eyes. Every intention of mine was to beat this thing. I don't know how it happened, but my next actions were unavoidable.
I found myself in push-up position. With the flick of one foot and pumping my arms against the bed I could get decent height. Then slam against the bed again, and the groaning "springs" would help launch me into the air again. After several repetitions I would maneuver into a sudden twist resulting in hitting the bed on my back.
I grinned to myself, and promptly discovered if I held my body just the right angle I could pretty good height without even using my arms from my back. Then, flip, back on my stomach. After such a rush I would bury my head in my pillow, giggle with glee, and proceed to start from the beginning.
This made me hungry. So I sat on the kitchen floor in my boxers eating grapes, chocolate chips, and drinking juice. Thoughly re-energized I retired again with a book, and read until my mind thought it might be able to rest. Three hours later, off goes above mentioned alarm.
*grins*, or, *groans*, maybe.
I have a habit of bouncing on my bed. I should take bets on how long it'll be until the legs just break off. An old bed is like an old car. You don't need to worry over actually living with them.
I have broken blinds in my room. Reminisce of the night I watched Much Ado About Nothing. I was over-tired, but high on the thought that I had the next day off. I did a very nice prolonged handstand in my dining room, then pirouetted in the mirror and flew through my bedroom door landing on my back on my bed. At this point my feet flew back and hit the blinds. Which I found horribly funny in said state of mind.
I don't know if I'm crazy. Or just a bachelorette living it for all it's worth.

On reply to a topic on Canadian identity, what is it. There was some good repies there. This was mine.

Canadians are people who spend have their time explaining to the yanks why they're not Brits and the other half explaining to the Brits why they're not yanks.
And I'm Canadian myself, so I'm allowed to say that.
I'm all for healthcare. I just don't appreciate being overtaxed to pay for other's councilling and abortions. I'm all for letting people live their lives, but I believe marriage always has been, and always should be between a man and a woman. I'm not against medicinal pot, but anyone who thinks kids will be happy to smoke stuff bought at the local drugstore, without going heavier, is kidding himself.
Tim Hortons is owned by an American company and (I think) Molson is melding with Coors. The oldest company in North American (the Bay) is up for sale.
I thank John Cretian for keeping us out of Iraq, but bemoan the taxes on softwood and overkill reaction to one case of bse.
I'm finally proud of our french history. But here in B.C. I know more people (including myself) who know some Spanish, and no french.
We generally don't think we're the best and always right and that our job is to liberate the rest of the world. This is where we differ from those down south. Arrogance and ignorance are not what I consider faults of ours (no, I'm not saying we're perfect. Just that we're not the only ones).
We can proudly wear our flag on our backpacks abroad. And do say "eh". It took me hundreds of tries to learn to draw a decent maple leaf (and strongly suspect that most other flags would be easier to draw decently). But I truly think our flag is nicer then any other. Nickelback is our idea of rockers.
We were some of the first sending troops against Hitler, and didn't let nobody take what was ours in 1812 (although the results would be far different if they tried today). So we don't run around giving people reason to hate us. And I'd like someone to explain how this makes us wimps.
We're proud of how many surviving heritages we can cram into one city.
It gets hot enough in summer. But most of us can build a pretty decent snow fort. And when we get tired of throwing snowballs, we go inside and watch hockey (or is it ultimate fighting. Sometimes I'm not sure which).

Things my brothers would want to tell the whole world.
Oldest brother-Donate money to me for my great invention ideas.
Middle brother-Everyone is horrible. Kris is a jerk.
Youngest brother- judo rocks!
What can I say? My youngest brother has the right idea.

The setting is last farm meeting. After a hearty breakfast, and talking over all things farm for a month we decided to go move calves, since we all happened to be there at the time.
O.k., I don't know how to explain it, and how interested in our particular farm's method of moving calves, but in order to do so we have to herd them through a pen. Since there were a few relatively new calves in there we had to move them into the calf barn.
K, sorry, but this is essential where I'm going.
So, I picked up one of the calves and carried it over. Have you ever carried a calf (never mind, I know the answer)? You feel like if you were a bit cleaner, smiled big, and had your hair tousled in the wind you could be a painting on a country calender.
After we were done Cheryle came out and was rubbing her arm off in a pile of sawdust.
"Scours", smiling.
Cheryle, as I'm sure you've guessed, is my co-worker. My reprieve on my days off. I milked together with her for a month or so. She's in her fifties, drives truck, and ropes calves. She makes me laugh very hard.
She's told me a little bit about her life. How she wanted to drop-out, but decided that school was better then the alternetive. How she hated school. Hated sitting still all day. How she went to business school, and eventually came to terms with the fact that she's a physical labour person. She thinks she would've loved to become a mechanic. She and her husband do logging as a business.
She used to load fifty bales of hay onto a truck on her own, for her horses. I must admit, even I was impressed by this. I was also dejected since she, with experiance, had said woman weren't made to push themselves to that extent. I guess she feels it now. Just another subtle warning that it would be good to take care of myself now. I'm getting a lot of those lately. I'm afraid I don't really listen, but I know, I should.
So, she's scrubbing scours off with a handful of sawdust when she looks at me, wrinkles her nose, and asks, "can you imagine living in the city." I found this so an epitome of something. Yet amusing, and cool, because she was not living, doing anything glamourous about the country at the moment. Yet she was still being a true, aging, outdoor tomboy.
I wrinkled my nose back, at the thought. And then told her that my Mom wanted me to apply at the bank after graduation.
Her voice surprized, "At a bank?" More wrinkling of noses. "Office work kills you if you're not cut out for it. Believe me I know."
The other day I walked in to pay a bill. Well standing in line I was struck with one thought. "This, this would kill me." I can't imagine having to get myself a pair of pumps. Getting up and spending fifteen minutes making myself look professional. Filling out forms all day.
Nope. It's just not me. And I'm glad I didn't have to find it out the hard way. Not that getting up at 3:30 is me. I'm a total and complete night girl. But I survive. And come out stronger for it in the end.

O.k. Just had a killer laugh fest with by bros
Renn; "Man, you cry easy when you laugh"
But it is so true. I shed far more tears through laughter then crying.
The amount of "that was so stupid" stories we have.
Ty had a rope tied from his leg to our dog. And Joe threw a stick for him to fetch. That one was worth a laugh.
K, my parents have finally bought a computer with highspeed so I'm in supreme luxery right now. Not that I live here. But it's still killer nice.
Last night I scored the first goal for my team in a game. One New Years Resolation down. Maybe that's why us humans are stupid enough to chase a hunk of rubber around a slab of ice. Cause the rush of seeing it hit the back of the net is worth it. Like judo, nothing matches that moment when you're playing tori and you know it's about to be a ippon worthy throw. I mean, there's more to that then that. But that certainly doesn't hurt.
Oh yeah, more news on a New Years Resolution. Last herd health I came out with 5 sucessful pregs. Well on my way to my goal of 20 for the year. This made me happy. 'Cause I've probably had more then my share of failures.
And now, dear friends, it is about time for me to pack up and head home. It's naught but short hours 'till I return for am shift. *yawns*.

Once upon a time when I was a computer addict I was blog surfing for lack of anything better to do well filling my daily hit of internet time. The pale light washing over my face, and ruining my eyes well I sat entranced by the glowing screen. My fingers in constant motion. Click click click. And continual trips into my e-mail to make sure nobody had written within the last ten minutes.
Yeah, I'm on something of a down-with-computer-dependant-people kick. Like, now that I'm liberated, I'm above you all. Looking down. And make pretenses of wanting to bring you to my level of freedom. And I was never even all that bad.
But that's not where I was taking this post. So we'll leave well enough alone.
As I was saying, I was blog surfing. At some point I wandered into a blog where some chick had posted her results on a bunch of quizs. So I proceeded to take some of them. Out of curiousity.
This particular girl had taken a "type of girlfriend" quiz. And came out as maternal girlfriend. Motherly loving sort. So, yes, I randomly clicked and took it too. my results came out as,

-Perfect- You're the perfect girlfriend. Which
means you're rare or that you cheated :P You're
the kind of chick that can hang out with your
boyfriend's friends and be silly. You don't
care about presents or about going to fancy
placed. Hell, just hang out. You're just happy
being around your boyfriend.

What Kind of Girlfriend Are You?


So there. I'm an absolute waste. I could be making some guy an ideal girlfriend. Unfortuenently (for him) I've got better things to do. Oh, and I didn't cheat. So I'm rare. The prefect catch. Just, nobody can catch me. I laugh at myself, the quiz, and everyone else.
I was going to say I couldn't remember the address, but after about a minute of searching I found it so I thought you would appreciate my results and the link. Comon, you know you're going to take it. Admit it or not.
I won't say anything about how quizs don't work for me half the time. This one seems to describe me decently. I just didn't know it made me perfect.
*g* @ world.

I officially can't wait for summer.
Not that I don't love winter. Not that I'm one of those crabby people that hates snow. Not that I don't think it's awesome to be one of the tough notherners in the world. But working outside in -10 temperatures with no mitts and only a fall worthy jacket is enough to make me start counting the days.
That and I'm finally having to admit I've got bad circulation. I do not like the thought that I, Kris, may have bad circulation. I don't like to think of myself as a bad circulation person. But when my toes freeze along with the worst of them well I attempt to skate happily along, and my fingers feel worthy candidates for falling off I must admit, I think I might have bad circulation.
Same with weak lungs. I, Kris, still maintain that I don't have the weak lungs that run in my Dad's side of the family. I've proudly taken on just about everything else that runs in the paternal side, but I'm afraid that I'm fighting the weak lung syndrome.
O.k., O.k. Here's a change of topic for you. For I feel I have to comment on whoever it was that just walked in and out of the library.
He was young, and maybe a real cowboy, or maybe a want to be real cowboy. I'm afraid I'm not experienced enough that I can always tell them apart yet. He was closer the a stereotypical cowboy then anyone I've seen around these parts before.
And, before I continue, I don't really believe that real cowboys exist anymore. The rancher may exist. I've seen some pretty genuine looking ones in Mexico. But sources tell me that Texas is now that fattest state in the fattest nation, and I strongly suspect that means they aren't riding the range. And if Texas has gone down, I don't have much hope for anywhere else. Alberta included. They (Albertans) pushed off any hope of ranchers dominating with their first oil line. And now we flock to their "western" cities to get jobs generate by the industry. And, I find it humorous, that Alberta likes to consider themselves the only true western province. We in B.C. are willing to let them have it. We're more the cutting edge province. Our cities (or ought I to say city) are/is more dynamic. We're like the youthful state. The one that took the longest to get to. Therefore we are newer, therefore we are cooler. Almost the nonsurfer California of Canada. Historical goldrush intact.
Back to my "cowboy". I always look up when people walk by, or when somebody says something. Small-town-kid thing, I strongly suspect. So when I looked the first thing I noticed was he was walking bow-legged. I must admit, it looked quite genuine. Not that I've a lot of experience, but my co-worker is a horse woman, and she walks like this guy did. Maybe not so obvious, but pretty much the same.
He took time to merely set his pile of books on the counter. To the librarians thanks, and this is the best part, he merely touched his hat. The shy quiet type. How sweet.
I must admit, I've always wanted reason to touch my hat to someone. I have been thwarted by two circumstances. One, I am a girl my self. Therefore, the typical "Ma'am" senerio is invalid. Second of all, I rarely wear classic touchable brimmed hats, apart from when I'm doing summer construction. And I'm not about to touch my hat to my dad. So my personal experience in this is limited to doing it in the mirror.
When he turned to walk out his green felt and leather jacket had Arizona emblazoned across the back, complete with the clubhouse looking flag and all. He had a silver star pinned to the back of his cowboy hat (didn't look beat-up enough to be quite true). I didn't notice if he was wearing spurs on his boots. But it wouldn't have surprised me.
Since I was in the midst of being mildly intrigued/amused by his whole being I was watching him walk out when he glanced back. He probably thought I was examinining the holes in the back pockets of his wranglers. Which I was, but not because I was even slightly interested in what was underneath. But because I was impressed that his jeans looked saddle worn. So weather he was real, or not, I'll never know.
Oh yeah, he also had something of sideburns. I'm not sure if this is typical cowboy. But since he had them they probably are.
So, there's another episode of my people watching. I, being a skeptic, bet he rides on the weekends and couldn't rope a calf and better then my boss. But, one great thing about people watching, you get to make-up your own stories. Only, with me, I get very curious and want to know the truth. I've got a thing for people in general. People and stories and history. All quite related.

A Few Things I Learned in 2004

-Cows always move faster when you accidentally leave the wrong gate open.
-Never sleep when you can party.
-frozen blueberries are a waste of money.
-When someone tells you to, "grow-up", don't listen.
-Society will win, but rebel against it anyway.
-Potato flakes taste nothing like real mashed potatoes.
-Independence has a high price tag. Buy it as soon as it comes on sale.
-Back windows break if you shut them on hard things, like t.v.s.
-Stay on your check.
-Don't flush paper towel down your toilet.
-English is a good subject if taught right.
-Not thinking about things is easier.
-Easier doesn't mean better.
-Snail mail is good fun.
-Learn to whistle while you work.
-It is possible to live solely on chocolate.
-It is also possible to live without it.
-Life is better if you learn to laugh at it.
-Occasionally it's good to just forget it