Big Five Test Results

Extroversion (59%) moderately high which suggests you are, at times, overly talkative, outgoing, sociable and interacting at the expense of developing your own individual interests and internally based identity. Friendliness (33%) moderately low which suggests you are, at times, overly selfish, uncooperative, and difficult at the expense of the well being of others. Orderliness (26%) low which suggests you are overly flexible, random, improvised, and fun seeking at the expense too often of structure, reliability, work ethic, and long term accomplishment. Emotional Stability (81%) high which suggests you are very relaxed, calm, secure, and optimistic. Openmindedness (50%) medium which suggests you are moderately intellectual, curious, and imaginative.

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I'm friendlier then that. Really. They just put that because I was honest and I admitted that "I can be unsympathetic" was "very accurate". And junk. My work ethic and reliability do no suffer because I'm fun loving and exciting. And, hmm, I clearly didn't think I was that extroverted

First of all, Happy Easter Everyone.
I had a day off and absolutely nothing to do. Until family dinner. So I sat, watched the snow outside, and read. It's been a while.
Then I came early to help Gram get ready. Let me tell you, I have crossed a certain line. For it was I, Kristen, who hid the Easter eggs. Instead of having to pretend not to see them nestled behind photos 'till after supper I was the one putting them there. And I just about drove my brothers insane with my wicked bunny hiding skills. But, that doesn't mean I miss out on chocolate all together. This kid isn't sitting down so easily.
*G*, I suppose eating my own chocolate chips out of my own bag might disqualify me for next year. And it might be about time. Everyone gets to be an adult someday. But that doesn't mean they have to grow up.

Me: You know, Uncle Ted, if you start making Jennifer listen to Mozart right now she'll be smart by time she's, like, twelve.
Uncle Ted: Maybe, but she'd be boring.
Me: [laughs...hard]

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Yesterday I discovered an alley I didn't know about.

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Give me a place to stand and I'll move the world. Until then I'll whine about not having a place to stand.

Because people say I'm negative here is an expression of appreciation.
To Cor- thanks for being my most faithful reader, likely commenter, and the friend that is usually next door and not doing anything. Who knows how much boringer my life might be without you there. You are spontaneous enough to keep up. Lot's of crazy moments have you in the picture.
To Sped-Thanks incredibly for a month + of my life. Very frustrating that's all we have. Thanks for a stack of letters, and numerous laughs and not enough late nights since we were fourteen. Gosh, we were young. Screw it, young forever.
To someone we shall not mention-Thanks for nothing.
To Larry Norman-Thanks for Christian rock.
To God-thanks for life. And everything else that I'm thankful for.
To my parents-also thanks for life. If you meant to or not ;).
To Abby-Thanks for being crazy, young, and ready to do anything.
To Steve-Thanks for being cousin, and fun as of the last couple years.
To the twins and their mother-Thanks for introducing me to judo.
To Megan-Thanks for sisterhood.
To my brothers-thanks for brotherhood and hanging out when I feel like it, sometimes.
To the icecream lady-Thanks for icecream with attitude.
To Sarah (sis de Cor)-Thanks for being a latenighter and a pig.
To Jen and Amanda-Thanks for 7 through 10.
To Tia-Thanks for laughing fits, and an auntie's veiw with good times. Also, thanks giving me a pen and paper.
To the kids of LR-Thanks for the Spanish lessons, good times, and month not to be forgotten.
To essy and Ruthy-thanks for the fun of mailing people I've never met.
To Jen-Thanks for being honest and occasionally surprizing.
To Gram-Thanks for putting us in the neighborhood I grew up in.
To Grandma-Thanks for the making the best buns you can bring on a picnic.
To whoever invented denim-Thanks for blue jeans.
To my bosses-Thanks for hiring me and having the patience to teach me.
To other dreamers-Thanks for showing me it's o.k. to dream.
To everyone who helped shape me-check our your masterpiece, eh?
And I'm barely scratching the surface. How incredibly positive of me.

"Tomorrow is always fresh with no mistakes in it."
I get this quote from Anne of Green Gables. And remember really liking it when I was younger. It was so encouraging. Go to sleep and you can wake up with a new, fresh chance.
I have since been introduced to the truth of the matter. Yesterday's mistakes are far too easily carried over into today. And I can be sure that whatever I do wrong this afternoon will not be forgotten by tomorrow.
Not that this is a bad thing. If it worked that way we would all run around repeating our same mistakes, creating the same problems, and then not paying the consequences.
Can you imagine if you woke up tomorrow and it was made as if you had never, ever, done anything wrong?

I go away for the weekend. I get a cold. I don't sleep. 40 year olds way out-party me. I have to skate regardless. I have a blast. I first succeed in doing a french braid. I score two goals. I wear a pink feather boa. I leave long before the dancing. I skate heard, and cough hard, and sprawl across the back seat on the way home. And then I go back to work the day after.
Is this a good thing?

I remember riding in the baby seat of grocery carts. I suspect I did until Meg came along, and then she had rights to it. I remember twisting around to try see where we were going and trying to reach things that I wasn't supposed to. But in general I was pretty happy there. Safely sitting in my designated area, just being the little kid in the shopping cart.
Then I graduated to the actual cart. There I would sit happy to be getting a ride. Looking out through the metal mesh. Until, at last I would get kicked out to make room for groceries that couldn't walk, like I apparently could.
I kept riding in the cart, even when I was old enough to climb in myself, although I'm sure I caused my Mom to grasp hard at the cart sometimes.
Eventually I was either forbidden or shamed into staying out of the cart. By then I was old enough to sit crosslegged, feeling Mom's opinion at her daughter still riding in the cart, and thinking that the strangers I was watching probably thought I was too old.
I then started climbing on the end and riding backwards. That was fun. You could hop on and off at any stop or anything that caught your attention. By then, I had siblings at all other stages of cart riding. I kept on with this as long as I could. Even after I had to shift my weight so as not to make the cart nose downwards. Mom would get tired of extra weight making the front swing funny and would make me get off, where I would stay for all of a few minutes.
By time I was really too old an heavy for this we started shopping at a warehouse. Here we would take a pilgrimage once month. Dad would push a massive blue flat and load it with massive boxes of rice, flour, and other things big families can't grow and go through quickly. We would perch happily on the flat, and then the boxes, until there were just too many squishables to continue. I would survey the store, pretended I was Veronica Lodge in her father's cellar and able to choose anything she wanted to eat. The massive boxes of chocolate bars and huge containers of juice. Forget the fact that Veronica would never touch any of it in fear of sabotaging her diet. Eventually, as the oldest, I would be the first one to have to get off, and actually walk around the store until I would whine about my feet hurting.
Nobody will push me in grocery carts any more. Instead, I take my own, run across the parking lot, or down a near empty aisle, and then jump on coasting for as far as I can. I suspect this is the last phase of a grocery cart riding history, and by time I outgrow this my free rides in grocery carts will be ended forever.

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.