Events of the Day

I was woken up this morning at just after 3 am, this time not by my adorable kitten, but by a sharp stabbing pain in my back molar. Pain akin to that which I suffered to prior to my wisdom tooth removal. Ow ow ow. I took a T3 that I happened to have left over from the surgery back in April (and to think I'd almost thrown them out last week during a cleaning streak) and managed to get back to sleep a while later, but not for long. I then spent almost an hour on the phone trying to get an emergency appointment with a dentist in this city. I was told all kinds of helpful things like "If you'd called earlier this morning..." and "I could get you in next Monday..." before I finally found someone that would see me today. An hour bus ride later and I was sitting in the chair. X-rays, filing, poking, prodding, and we have determined that I need a root canal! Now I'm on antibiotics and painkillers and have an appointment for a week from today to get the thing done. Joy. Dentists are probably my number one phobia (worse even than the swans, worse even than some sort of freak swan-spider mutation). Now I get to spend 2 hours next week coping with that fear. Not looking forward to it one bit, although I will be glad to no longer be in pain.

In addition to these wonderful events I had to deal with the old man on the bus on the way home. He looked to be about 50-60, and was one of those kind of grizzled men with really long hair and faded tattoos all over. He sits in the seat opposite me, and after spending about 10 minutes staring at my chest (awkward enough), made the following observation to me: "You must like bondage then, eh?". My response: "Excuse me?". He then points at my shirt, which reads "Canada: it's better on top", and says "if you like being on top, that suggests that you dig control and dominance". I just stared at him. What on earth was he on about? Was he actually saying these things to me? I set my face in a semi-disgusted, semi-angry expression and said, "It's a Canadian patriotism shirt." The guy then grunted, "yeah, sure it is" at which point another guy leaned over the seat behind me and said to him, "leave her alone, you f*cking pedofile". Creepy guy scowled and got off the bus.

Honestly. What a day. Is it any wonder I called in sick?

Outliving Your Purpose

While walking a student home the other night, we passed an retirement home where I nearly had a job landscaping this summer. I mentioned this to my walk partner, and he made the comment that it was a nice place. I said that it was, but that I'd never want to live in a home like that, that, to me, it feels too isolated from the rest of society and would be as if I no longer had purpose or value. My walk partner then said, "well, but that's kind of true. When you get that old you've outlived your purpose to society." I was shocked.

Here in North America we tend to treat our elderly like children. The typical attitude is coddle them, but ignore them. To be sympathetic, yet not to listen. They are no longer a part of the workforce. They have become dependents of society. It's simply best that they are put with other people their own age. Keep them comfortable until their lives run out. There's nothing more we can, or should do for them. Since they no longer participate in any meaningful way in society, what could they possibly have to offer us, the younger generation? (Such is the general opinion.)

We talked about this in one of my anthropology courses last fall: the agism of North American culture and the alienation of the older generation. What ever happened to the reverence for your elders?

In some African tribes, it is the elders that hold the key to survival for the younger generations. They must pass on their knowledge of plants and animals, of medicines, and of the history of the people. Without the elders, these societies would likely be lost.

In Asian cultures where family is valued above all else, and people are communistic rather than individualistic in their goals, elders are seen as the cornerstone of the family unit. It is through your elders that you know your own identity. Your parents and grandparents raised you, and so it is your responsibility, and your honour, to support them and care for them in their old age. It is not only what is right, but it is a matter of pride.

North Americans, however, are embarrassed by their elderly. We are burdened by the responsibility placed upon us when a parent or grandparent can no longer support and care for themselves. We resent the financial and emotional burden put upon us by their failing health and wavering self-sufficiency. It is too much, even, to visit more than just at the holidays. We would have to drag the children to visit Nana and Papa who always tell the same stories, don't understand things like electronics, the new school systems, or new fashions, and feed them vile things like onions and beans. Here, it is just easier all around if they are simply placed in a home. There we can rest our conscious that they are being provided the care they require and are surrounded by their peers.

I have one thing to say about this: Retirement homes are nothing more than glorified daycare centres for the elderly. Some of them not even glorified, but rather providing a sub-par lifestyle for a part of society that deserves much more. Who, regardless of age, would want to live 24/7 in a daycare? Even the best daycare is no substitute for family.

Furthermore, the elderly have not "outlived their purpose"; it is just that we have forgotten what their purpose should be. Just because they are no longer working does not mean they have lost their value. They can volunteer and contribute to society in ways other than monetary. They are now able to do all the things that we always swore we would do when we had the time, but most importantly, they are there as resources to us. They are now fully available to pass on life lessons and values. If anything, they are more valuable now in their retirement.

I would never consider placing anyone I cared about in a retirement home. In fact, I am ashamed to be living in a culture that admits this as common and acceptable practice. Have we lost our sense of family responsibility? Our sense of decency?

Nerd Visit

Here it is, Tuesday already. The Nerd was in to look at my laptop this morning. He booted it up, and could tell just from the noises it was making that it needed a new hard drive. Glorious. There goes everything I had on my computer. He's sending it "Nerd Express" to my Dad who's going to replace the hard drive and give me a wireless internet card. This means that I'll be able to get on the internet on campus, which will make working on campus a lot easier. This is almost as good as a new laptop and a heck of a lot cheaper! I should have it back by next Tuesday.

For those of you that may not know what a Nerd is, Nerds On Site is a company that started in Southern Ontario that does computer repair and set up of all kinds. They drive around in little red beetles called "Nerdmobiles" like the one here. (Shameless plug)


My dad is a Nerd, although not the Nerd in this picture (my dad has more hair).

Weekend Events

The weekend is over, yet I feel like it never happened. I'm still waiting for my weekend. Part of the problem is that I work from Wednesday evening to early Sunday morning, and so my "weekend" really runs from Sunday to Tuesday. It's really throwing off my system. Ah well. Five more weeks of work and counting.

I had a nice visit with Fitzy yesterday. We walked around the park, went to the tea shop and had bubble tea and played games (Jenga and cards), and then watched Pulp Fiction. That is one strange movie. I liked it, but I'm only now getting the events in the right order. For those that haven't seen it, it doesn't play in chronological order. The timeline jumps back and forth quite a bit. Still, a good movie.

Rumble decided that I was supposed to get up at 7:00 this morning. He jumped up on my bed and started mewing at me. I rolled over and tried to ignore him, so he climbed onto my shoulder and bit my ear with his little kitten teeth. It wasn't a hard bite, but it earned him a gentle swat nonetheless. He mewed pitifully until I scooped him up and made him lie down next to me and pet him. Then he just purred loudly enough to keep me from falling asleep again. I still refused to get up and he eventually left for the living room, letting me sleep for another couple hours.

Tonight I'm on safe-walk. Tomorrow I have to go into work to get Smart Serve trained. Yippee (sarcasm). I don't want to spend any more time at the stupid restaurant than I have to. I simply cannot wait to quit. Dad says that the Nerd guy should be in to look at my computer sometime "midweek". I desperately want to have internet at home again. It's much more convenient, and I'll be able to post pictures again!

New Kitten!

Yesterday afternoon Fitzy and I walked over to the Humane Society (an hour walk from home) to pick out a kitten. I had very quickly picked out a lovely little gray tabby. They told me they found his litter in a meadow and that he was 7 weeks old and he weighs about 1 & 1/2 pounds.. They took us into a quiet room to get to know one another, and from the time I first held him he wouldn't stop purring. He sat on my lap and purred. He crawled up onto my shoulder and purred. He purred and he purred and he purred. Even the girl that worked there was commenting on it. He just absolutely melted my heart.

We went through all the paperwork and got him microchiped. Then I got to take my little kitten home with me. They put him in a carry box, but since we had to take a cab home (5 min ride) and they don't allow pets, I just slipped him into my backpack, being very careful in carrying the bag. He just curled up and slept on the ride, and the cabby was none the wiser. Got him home, and played and cuddled with him all evening before I had to go to work. He follows me in and out of every room.

This morning I woke up and he curled up on my chest and purred and purred. I've decided to name him Rumble. Seems appropriate. He's just adorable. When I have the ability to upload pictures again (ie: when my laptop is functional/replaced) I'll post some of him.

Laptop troubles

Alas, poor Dell! I knew him: a machine of infinite memory, of most excellent drive. Er... For those who can't tell from my quasi-Shakespearean rambling, my laptop has bit the dust. Early yesterday evening it began making whirring noises, and I assumed it was just getting too hot, as it does often, and so went to click the start bar to shut it down, and the mouse went haywire, clicking everything, flying all around the screen, opening thing, closing things, and deleting desktop shortcuts. After madly yelling at it to "Quit it! Quit it! Quit it!!", I just crashed the stupid thing, hoping to keep it from further damaging itself. I then let it cool down for a bit and went to turn it back on, and it would not. It boots itself up nicely until it brings me to the page where I have to hit enter to tell it to start windows (rather than the product recovery) and then it does nothing. I can't start windows, I can't run it in safe mode, and I can't run the product recovery either. Sigh.

Called my father, the Nerd, for computer 911, and he said he'd have a Nerd here give me a shout and look at it. The wonders of having a connected father! Computer assistance for free, ooh la la. We'll see how that goes, but I may just have to buy a new laptop. I am somewhat distressed by this, but the plan had always been to buy a new one for grad school, which is only 2 years away. Still, it is an unexpected expense. Ruddy stupid things.

I have a fellow safe-walker who has offered to recover my hard drive for me if all else fails, so at least I haven't necessarily lost everything. Talk about a pain though. I had to come all the way to campus this morning to do my emailing, blogging, banking, etc. The hardship. The strife. Actually, campus is a block from my house, not even, so I should really stop whining. Not to mention that in here I am air-conditioned, which sure beats the heck out of boiling at home in my sauna of a room.

Long Distance

The apartment we live in is rented out individually by rooms, and each bedroom is equipped with it's own phone jack and cable internet jack. We've arranged it so that all the phone jacks are on the same line. Last year we went with an alternate long distance provider that gave us unlimited free long distance in the evenings and weekends. It was cheaper, given the amount of long distance calling we do, but we had to use a dial out number to access it, and it was one more bill for me (the handler of all bills) to deal with. Plus, we ran into some problems being that one of our roommates made long calls every evening to her boyfriend and family. I don't begrudge her wanting to keep in contact - long distance relationships are a lot of work - but it was hard for the other girls and I to make calls.

We've decided to change our plan next year to the Sprint Canada Total North America plan. I don't know how these guys do it, but the plan is just amazing. For $19.95 a month, we can call anywhere in Canada or the United States, at any time of the day, for any length of time, absolutely free. Well heck! Is that worth it? I'll say. In fact, I had it put in a month early so that I can use it come August 10th. This month I spent $16 on long distance calling, and I was trying to watch the time I spent on the phone. Just think, for another $3 I could have talked as much as I wanted and not had to worry about it.

The one thing I don't like about the system is that changes to the plan are done completely by automated telephone operators. That annoying voice that says "If you are calling for billing inquiries, press one. If you are calling for information about your account, or to change account preferences, press two. If you are calling to inform us of a move, press three....". It took me 15 minutes of button pressing to get my plan changed. How annoying is that? It would have taken me 1/3 that time with an actual person, because I knew exactly what I wanted done. Of course, then I would have been on hold forever waiting for an actual person. You just can't win.

Inappropriate Lyrics

One of the things that I really enjoy about visiting home, or talking to my brother at any time, is that we share songs that we've found and think the other might like. The latest one that he's shared with me is a spoof on the Nine Inch Nails song Closer, also known as I Want to F*ck You Like an Animal. This version is done in a jazzy show-tunes kind of sound, by an artist who goes by the name of Richard Cheese. It's very funny, and incredibly catchy. I really enjoyed it, perhaps too much. I've been sending it along to all my friends, and just today I caught myself walking down the street singing the following lines to myself:

You can have my absence of faith
You can have my everything
I want to f*ck you like an animal
I want to feel you from the inside
I want to f*ck you like an animal
You get me closer to God

And then I caught myself singing, and jumped and looked around. Thankfully I was alone on the street and hadn't offended any elderly women or desecrated the innocence of any children. Still, I've got to watch myself. It's bad enough that I sing to myself as I walk down the street. Now people might think that I'm not only crazy, but also needlessly obscene!

Thanks a lot, bro.

Events at the Park

About four blocks from our apartment is this lovely park, complete with heritage buildings, a small zoo, a tiny waterpark for the kids, and a large pond filled with ducks, geese, and swans. Today I woke up, had breakfast, and decided to go to the park. It's a nice sunny day, only slightly too hot. I brought a book and a pad of paper, because quite often I get inspired to write at the park, although today was not one of those days.

I sat at a picnic table in the shade where I could watch the birds in the pond, and the people strolling up and down the paths. I opened my book and began to read when, plop, right down in the middle of my page landed a huge spider. I hate spiders. Normally whenever a spider appears in our apartment, we have had to run across the hall to fetch one of the bolder girls to dispose of it for us. It's quite the ordeal. Silly to be afraid of something so tiny in proportion to ourselves, I realize, and for me it's not really fear, but a general creepiness. They gross me out.

So here I am, isolated in the park, with this giant spider taunting me from the middle of my book. What can I do? I can't slam the book closed, as that would leave spider guts all over, so I did what any rational person would do: I jumped up, away from the spider, and stared at it in horror and disbelief. Then, I grabbed a nearby stick and coaxed the spider onto the stick, which I then flung as far away from me as possible. Phew, crisis averted. I resume reading.

Minutes later I feel something on my foot. I look down, and there is a duckling standing on my toes. Aw, isn't that cute? It would be, except that duckling was soon followed by angry momma duck who decided that by allowing her baby to stand on me, I was endangering it's life. She proceeded to charge at my leg, quacking with all her furious might. I quickly lift my legs onto the bench and ponder what I will do if she climbs up after me. Luckily she does not, and scolding her baby, they both run out from under the table. Once again, I resume reading - the same paragraph for the third time.

I am finally beginning to understand the paragraph when I notice out of my peripheral vision that I am being surrounded by ducks and geese. I look up, and there are about 60 of them swarming around me. Why? There is a young man, probably in his early thirties, throwing breadcrumbs directly behind me. And the birds are everywhere! They're under me, and behind me, and to each side of me, running and flapping and yelling at the top of their bird voices. This is entertaining, although somewhat cacophonous, until I spy two swans headed towards me. Oh no. I am terrified of swans. Absolutely petrified. My heart starts to race and I realize that even if I wanted to back away from them, I would be tripping over ducks all the way. I am caged in by ducks, and being approached by swans. They come charging over, and the male flaps his wings in a sign of dominance, and I panic. I climb on top of the picnic table and sit there, hovering and trying to look not too strange to the people walking past me as I crouch, frozen in abject terror, on the top of this picnic table.

At this point, the man behind me has noticed my evident unease, and moves to throw breadcrumbs at a different part of the feedings grounds. The ducks quickly follow, but the swans remain, staring at me as if trying to puzzle out who I am and what I could possibly be doing on the top of the picnic table. I curse silently at them until they too wander off and I regain composure, if not my dignity, pack up my things, and walk out of the park. I still haven't finished that paragraph of my book either.

Shoes

When I was younger, I sort of prided myself on being a bit of a tomboy. Not outrageously so, but enough that I was kind of "one of the guys". I liked being one of the few girls that would play sports and wasn't afraid to get dirty (in a non-sexual way). Part of this was a rejection of anything stereotypically girly. I wouldn't wear the colour pink, and I thought shoe collections were stupid. Today I walked past the hall coat area and saw this:

All of these shoes are mine, with the exception of the pair in the red circle. Those are Jessica's. Sketchers, Adidas, Airwalk, Nike, Hush Puppies... The closet is a conglomeration of brand name shoes, and they're all mine. I stood there dumbfounded, looking at these shoes and asking myself, when did this happen? When did I start caring about shoes? To make matters worse, I have at least another 4 pairs in closets at home. AND I have pink in my wardrobe.

Funny the things that change without your noticing!

Looking Ahead

What a glorious evening! The heat has finally broken, even if only for a day, and the sun is shining. The gardener is mowing the lawn outside my window and the breeze is filled with the smell of cut grass. I love that smell. It's a lovely 26 degrees (that's 79 for all you fahrenheiters) and not humid at all. This is the weather I'd have all summer. I do love the odd summer thunderstorm, but otherwise I'd love this dry warmth.

I have only another 43 days of summer left, and, as much as I love summer, they can't go by fast enough. I'm eager for the fall and for all the adventure it will bring. I'm eager for Boot Camp where I'll get to know all my fellow volunteers, and Frosh Week, and the start of new classes, and buying new textbooks, and the smell of new notebooks. I look forward to the return of my friends. I look forward to preparing the apartment for yet another year together. I await lunches on campus, complaining about homework and readings, and the weekly CSI nights. I await the laughter, the sharing, and even the tears that are what having good friends is all about.

So summer, as much as I love you, go the h*ll away.

Banana Chips

I love trail mix. I think it's one of the best snack foods ever invented. Salty, tasty, and yet still relatively healthy! Yet there is one thing that I hate about trail mix: banana chips. They are disgusting, and they are in absolutely every version and variety of trail mix out there! They seem to be the universal filler and I hate them! One of these days I'm going to write a strongly-worded letter to someone on the subject. What if I had a banana allergy?!? May seem silly, but it really bothers me.

Passion

Perhaps sometimes I jump to too hasty a judgment of character. Turns out Frat Guy isn't that bad. He's just nervous, I think, since he's the newbie. He's a little arrogant, maybe, and there's still something...phony, to use a Holden Caufield expression, but all in all he's an okay guy. We had a couple walks tonight, one of which was really long (50 min round trip), and so got to talk quite a bit on the way back when we were no longer entertaining the walk. He's a native to the area and works in a pawn shop. He's doing his studies part time and is in no hurry whatsoever to graduate and join the adult world. We talked some about what I study and where I want to go with it, and he said that was great for me, but that he doesn't have the ambition to go that far with his eductation.

This apathetic, non-ambitious attitude towards education and life is something that I just never got. I love school. I want to learn as much as I possibly can, and then I want to get out there and do something. I want to make something of myself. I could never be satisfied just going to classes and coasting though. I want to live every minute of it. Soak it up. I wonder, is it that people have no passion, or is it just that they have not yet found their passion? University isn't for everyone, and that's fine, but I think that everyone should have something that they're passionate about, otherwise what's the point? I find passion incredibly attractive. I don't care what it is that you're passionate about (unless it's a giant porn collection or something), but if you have something that really fires up your soul, something that you can share with me and with the rest of the world, that's just amazing.

I know one fellow that lives to play the drums, and another that's starting his own high tech business, and another that is heavily involved in theatre. Some people are passionate about philosophical issues, or religion, or politics, or social issues. It's fantastic. If someone shares with me stories about things that they are passionate about, I find it transfixing. Even if it's not something that I particularly enjoy, just the fact that you're excited by and interested in it fascinates me.

Monday Monday

I feel 110% better. I slept in late today, wandered down to the bank to get loonies for laundry, and then did some grocery shopping. The girl at the bank complimented my clip-on sunglasses. She told me that hers look too delicate and fragile, whereas mine look more sturdy. Frankly, mine have a stupid design that is prone to snapping in the cold, and I wear sunglasses a lot in the winter especially when driving. Snow glare just kills me.

Last night I was on walk-safe, and I had a blast. I was somewhat worried at first because I was paired to walk with this guy that I find an absolute bore. He's nice enough, but we have nothing in common and he tends to only talk about his program and assignments and stuff. He's in accounting - something that holds no appeal to me whatsoever. All my worries were for naught though as he went off to work with his study group (taking with him a radio in case we got a walk) and left me with the guy on dispatch, Liam, who I adore. Liam is either in my year or the one below me, I can't remember, but he's fantastic either way. He's funny, and sweet, and just a genuinely nice guy. And he's cute to boot! We spent the evening doing crosswords and word games. May sound boring, but it wasn't at all. Had a great time. He's my walk buddy on Thursday night too.

Tonight I'm paired up with this fraternity guy. This I'm not looking forward to. I don't know what it is but something about him just makes me uneasy. He's too confident and too self-important, for one, but that's not even it. I can't place it, but I just get the creeps around him. A whole night of this guy? Not exactly what I'd call fun.

On a different note, Fitzy is coming to visit this weekend. He's coming up on Saturday and staying until Monday. I think that's right (right Fitzy?). I'm all excited. We're gonna have so much fun!

Now I think it's time to make supper: pork chops, potatoes and beans tonight. Mmm mmm mmm.

Exhausting Weekend

I feel like I've been hit by a train. This has been an absolutely exhausting weekend. Friday I went to work for 5 pm. From then until 10 pm I was working in servery with no break. I cut and sliced bread, made up the bread cones, folded napkins, did cutlery wrapups, made coffee, polished glasses, kept the ice water jugs filled, ran dirty dishes from the servery (drop of point of the waiters) to the kitchen where I scraped, dumped, and organized them into piles for the dish guy. Doesn't sound that exciting, but it kept me moving constantly. I got to talk with some of the servers and kitchen staff too. They seem like a pretty nice bunch of people.

Then, at 10pm, I moved onto my other job - busing. I was stationed in the upstairs patio which seats 350 people. 350 loud, alcoholic, smoking people. I had to collect empty drinks, sort them into their 4 categories (green bottles, brown bottles, white bottles, kitchen glasses), clean ashtrays, wipe up spills, all the while weaving my way in and among the people who seemed determined to rearrange the chairs and tables to create road blockades. Did this for 2 1/2 hours, then had a 15 minute break, and did it for another 2 hours before moving on the closing duties.

Closing duties: pulling drinks - we legally have to have every ounce of alcohol off the floor by 2:40 so we have to go around and wrest them away from people. Then there's collecting the slop buckets (disgusting tubs containing the last sip of at least 2000 drinks), taking all the bottles into the back and resorting them into recycle or return and again by colour, wiping down tables, emptying garbages, and sweeping and mopping the back bussing station.

I got home Friday night, really Saturday morning, at 3 am and could fall asleep right away, although I was dead tired, because my feet and calves hurt so much. Then up again at 10 to be on time for the SS Retreat. I do not function with less than 8 hours of sleep, particularly not when I've been worked so hard the night before. I was pretty much a walking zombie for the first hour. We all met down on the tennis courts and got our registration bracelets, then broke for lunch, and back at 1 pm when it then started to pour rain. We're talking torrential downpour - thunder, lightning, rain so hard you can barely see. All into the science building where we had our first session on leadership. Then broke up into smaller sections (frosh leaders, ss volunteers, and sa volunteers) and had get-to-know-everyone sessions. Then back into the main room where we had a this-will-be-the-best-experience-of-your-life and lets-boost-morale session, and then were to go on to the concourse on campus to play regatta games. Here, however, I had to leave to go to work. I missed the regatta games, the free supper, the socializing, and the party afterwards in the campus club.

I got to go to work and do all the things I did on Friday, only amplified because the restaurant was absolutely packed. We had people waiting to get tables, the servers were running off their feet, the kitchen staff was working ceaselessly, and my manager was everywhere at once - in the way and being a complete b*tch. Everybody was doing something wrong. On top of my servery duties, which would have kept me busy enough, I had to bus tables. I worked in the kitchen until 11:30, where I was then sent immediately to the busing station at the attached club, and was there told by the owner that I was the "float buser", which is the person that goes everywhere in the restaurant and is not limited to any one area. This is the worst position because you absolutely never stop working. He was all set to have me go right away and I told him that I was not doing anything until I got a break and a chance to eat since I'd been on since 5:30. He said that was fine and gave me a 1/2 hour.

Unfortunately, on break, my cranky, snappy manager was there in the staff room eating pizza. I had to listen to her yell at the servers who walked by and then answer amenable when she inquired as to how I liked it so far. Truth be told, I could have curled up in a corner and slept/cried at this point. I was so overworked. Half and hour later I was back on the floor. There was barely space to breath on the floor, much less move around while carrying a bus box. On top of which I had to deal with one girl who grabbed the back of my shirt, hauled me backwards, and demanded to know where her beer had gone. Like I would know. Luckily security saw it and stepped in between, letting me go back to work and eventually removing her from the restaurant.

Then, immediately after that some guy tapped me on the shoulder while I was clearing another table and proceeds to tell me that his friend really likes me. I hate this tactic. First of all, I'm working and I don't want to be approached and hit on. Secondly, I certainly don't want to be hit on by some guy for another guy who won't approach me on his own. If your friend can't talk to me on his own, why would I be interested? Honestly. I told him that I was working. He said that didn't matter and grabbed my shoulder again as I went to move away. I spun on him, removed his hand, and told him it would not be a good idea to do that again and nodded my head at the ever present security personnel. He backed right off after that.

One other incident occurred, although wasn't witnessed by me. The girl who was up on patio noticed this guy finish his drink and then throw his glass off of the patio. She went up to him and said "I'm sorry, did I just see you throw your glass off the patio?" and he tried to say it was someone else, and she had to get security to throw him out.

Closing took until after 3 last night, I got home just before 4, collapsed into bed, again in an incredible amount of pain, and slept until 1. Now I feel like I'm hungover, even though I'm not. My head hurts and I feel foggy like I don't quite no where I am. Do I hate this job? Absolutely. But the people I work with (other than the stupid manager woman) are really nice. They invited me to go out with them tonight, but I can't, since I'm on walk-safe patrol. At least I get paid in 5 days...

An Apartment with Character

Last fall I purchased a small black board from the dollar store. I have since decorated it with my name and hung it on my door. Along with the black board came chalk. One thing I have learned: it is a bad idea to combine giddy, sugar-high friends, chalk, and a brand new apartment. We went mildly insane, drawing and writing things all over the walls. It does wash off with just water, after all. Somehow our hyper-active activity from that one night in September has morphed into a tradition of writing funny quotes on the walls. We now have quite the collection and it has become quite the conversation topic among our friends. Whenever I talk to someone who hasn't visited in a while, they inquire about any new quotes on the walls. I thought I would share some with you...

("Because girls who play football half-naked need love too" - Blind Date)

Let me say, right now, in our defense, that we do not actually watch Blind Date. This was a one-time thing, I swear. Still, the line was pretty funny.

("You help me and I, in turn, am helped by you." - Simpsons)

Yes, we do watch the Simpsons. Is there anyone that doesn't? (Mum, you don't count - you don't watch any tv at all)

("Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana." - My Dad)

We also encourage people to write on the walls when they visit. Some inane comments we remove (we reserve the rights to edit), but the good ones we keep. We also have a height wall on which everyone that enters the apartment is measured, although a few might have been rubbed out in a fit of anger...

All in all, I think this give our apartment a great sense of character. It's certainly better than staring at those boring tan coloured walls. Jessica and I are talking about getting posters at next year's poster sale, or buying puzzles, podging them, and then hanging them up. Something to add more colour.

I hope you have enjoyed this glimpse into our apartment life. I'm sure plenty more will come.

Just Another Friday

The phone just rang. Guess who! Bad Date Guy - Again! He was just at the mall with his brother, not doing anything special. He knows I'm working tonight, but did I want to hang out before? For crying out loud. No, I do not want to "hang out". "Hang out" in the language of this guy probably means "sit around awkwardly trying to talk until maybe you let me make out with you". Okay okay, maybe I'm being too harsh, but really, what is it going to take to get through to this one? I told him that I was meeting some people in 1/2 an hour. A bald-faced lie. I should have just told him once and for all that I'm not interested. Shoulda, coulda, didn't. Sigh. I guess I'm just not very practiced with turning people down.

I'm also very much on edge because today is my first shift at the restaurant. I'm sure it'll be fine, but I'm freaking out about it nonetheless. I'm not sure if I'm more worried that I might not be able to handle it, or more guilty because I'm already planning on quitting. I just hate letting people down, even if it is just business.

Song of the day: Hand Me Down, by Matchbox 20

Tomorrow is the day of the big Student Services Retreat. Should be a day filled with information about frosh week, and fun games and food. I'm very excited, even if I am going to be exhausted after getting off work at 3 am.

I started reading this book called Natural Symbols, by Mary Douglas. It's a fairly famous anthropology book. Well, famous among anthropologists. I've started reading it on about 3 different occasions, and every time I get a little further into it. It's fairly academic and I've always found it to be a little above my level. This time I'm finding that I understand it all, but I have to concentrate really hard while I'm reading. It's very informative, but a rather exhausting process. I guess I'll call it warm up for the fall term. Won't be long now before I'm buried in pages and pages of reading again. Can September come soon enough?

Anthropology

During the orientation my manager asked me what it was that I'm studying. When I told her (Anthropology) she got very excited, told me that was wonderful, and then went on to talk about how important it is to know our past and where we came from, and how we evolved. This, of course, is not really anthropology, but I humoured her. I somewhat dread telling people what I study because nobody knows what anthopology is. Even the people that think they know what anthropology is haven't got the faintest idea. Most often they assume that it is something to do with:
a) dinosaurs & fossils
b) human prehistory
c) orthopedics

The strange thing is that even when someone starts talking about dinosaurs, and I try to explain that's not what I do at all, they still try to somehow incorporate dinosaurs and fossils into what I do do. Let me say, right now, that I have never, never, never in my classes been taught anything or shown anything that has to do with dinosaurs in the slightest. People that come up with human prehistory are actually the closest to understanding. Now prepare yourselves for a lesson on what is, and is not, anthropology.

There are two main categories of anthropology. The first is called Physical Anthropology, and this part of the discipline is more closely related to archaeology, and so does deal with human prehistory and fossils and all that. However, this is not a field of anthropology taught very frequently in universities. If you did meet a physical anthropology student, they would identify themselves as a Physical Anthropology student to differentiate themselves from the larger, more common stream of anthropology - Sociocultural Anthropology.

Sociocultural Anthropology deals with people in the here and now. It is a study not of fossils, but of present day culture. When you are sitting in a waiting room, flipping through a Readers Digest, and come across an article about a tribe of people living in the Amazon, this is anthropology. Of course, that is a stereotype, but still a good example. Sociocultural anthropologists study things like kinship patterns, rituals, religion and magic, politics and economics, technologies used, housing and migration, etc etc. They employ something called "holism", which states that the "sum of each part is greater than the whole". This may make no mathematical sense, but it means that to understand one thing in a culture, you must understand all things, because everything is intertwined.

The reasons behind studying anthropology differ from researcher to researcher, and from project to project. Some study to preserve groups that are disappearing, some study to look at different ways of doing things in order to suggest improvement in our own culture, some study specific things like tribal medicine in hopes to learn something unknown to our own scientists. Some anthropologists focus on language. Some anthropologists don't work with other cultures at all, but with subsets within our own culture (ie: homeless people, elderly people, people of a specific religion, etc). There are anthropologists everywhere doing all manner of work, and I believe this is because in studying anthropology you learn not only a specific set of tools to use, but also a method of looking at things - looking at life, really - that allows you to see the ordinary in an extraordinary way.

There, I hope I haven't bored you with my mini-lecture. I love anthropology. With it I have truly found my passion, and it just frustrates me to no end that in order to share that passion with others I first have to dispel any ideas they already had about the discipline. Sometimes I get so excited and worked up about the things that I'm learning and studying that I feel like I'm going to explode with it all if I don't talk to someone who might understand. It's one of those things where the more I learn, the more I love it. I am just so grateful that I took it as an elective in first year, even though I had no idea what it was about at all. Imagine, right now I could be still suffering my way through a psychology major! Not that I don't enjoy psychology, I do, but anthropology is such a better fit for me.

New Job, Strange Dream

Yesterday I went to my orientation day at my new job. It's with an upscale restaurant in the area, and I'm looking forward to the experience. They couldn't seem to decide where to put me. At first it was busing and hostessing, then it was running the espresso bar (fitting, since I have almost 4 years of coffee experience), and now it's expediting from 5-11 and busing after that. Expediting, which I'd never heard of before, is the job of the person who organizes all the orders as they're made, puts plates together, and calls the waiters to let them know that their order is up. It will be different than anything I've done before, and I'm a little nervous. I have my first day tomorrow, from 5pm to 3am. Talk about a long shift, phew.

This place has the most interesting way of punching in and out that I have ever seen. They have this little scanner, no more than 1" by 2", that takes a picture of the tip of your index finger and matches it to your employee file. This, the manager explained to me, is less time consuming than paper punches, is less wasteful, and also stops other people from punching in and out for their friends. Isn't that just wild? Technology.

I had the strangest dream last night. I was back at home and walking through the neighbourhood with Mum and all the daycare kiddies, when we passed this house that had a sign up that read "kittens, $3.00". Naturally we went in since I want to get a kitten. An elderly woman answered the door and explained that the woman who owned the kittens wasn't in, but would be arriving shortly on the bus if we'd care to wait. There were only two tabby kittens left and they were playing and romping with each other. I decided that I couldn't separate them, and after begging Mum she finally consented (apparently I was living at home, and not just visiting). We waited for the woman and ended up paying $30 for the $6 kittens, and I tucked them both into my parka (don't want them freezing in the summer weather), and we went on our merry way. It was only as we reached home and I went to let them out of my parka that I realized they weren't kittens at all, but Super Nintendo controllers. How strange.

The first thing I thought when I woke up was: "I hope I didn't take that $30 out of my account, because then my cheque will bounce". Then I realized that the phone was ringing, so I picked it up. Who was it?? Bad Date Guy! A few minutes of awkward conversation, he asked if I wanted to go out again this weekend, I said I was busy all weekend (which I am), and he pointed out that since I work weekends and he works nights during the week there is really no time for us to ever go out again. Well darn, eh?

I got a response back from my manager at the on-campus coffee place I work at over the year, and he said that he's not doing the schedule until the last couple weeks of August, but that he can guarantee me at least 15 hours, more if I want them. Hurrah! I feel somewhat bad letting the people at the restaurant assume that I'm staying on in the fall, but if I'd told them I was leaving in a month they never would have hired me.

Bowling

What an adventure. I just got back from bowling with three other fellow walk-safe members. It was supposed to be many more than that, but this is the week for midterms and assignments for all those taking summer classes and so most people cancelled at the last minute. Having said that, it was a tremendous amount of fun.

There was a lot of joking and cheering, but the highlight of the night was definitely when I wound up to take a throw and ended up losing my grip on the ball and having it go flying backwards at the three sitting on the bench. In reality it dropped quickly and rolled harmlessly at their feet, but we all collapsed into laughter. I laughed so hard I started to cry. From then on there were constant jokes at my expense, but all in good fun and I didn't mind. I'm sure this will come back to haunt me. I have been threatened and promised to have the story told during Frosh Week. I'm kind of half dreading and half looking forward to the nicknames that will ensue.

Later in the night one of the girls was talking and accidentally dropped her ball, nearly missing the other girl's foot, only to hear cries of "Careful! Don't pull a Haley!".

Now my arm is sore, but I am relaxed and contented. What a wonderful way to spend an evening. I'm looking forward to the next walk-safe social: mini-putt!

Out my window

Our apartment is situated just off campus in what is typically referred to as the "university ghetto", meaning the area of town pretty much devoted to student housing. There are the odd family homes, but by and large it's just about all students around us. This means that there is always music playing somewhere, always students wandering the streets at all hours, and some interesting things to be seen as well. Here are a couple examples.

This woman is walking her rabbit through the garden outside my window. That's right, walking her rabbit. Slightly odd. Cute though eh?


These guys have apparently set up a kiddie pool on their front lawn. Why not in their back yard? Because this way they have the added advantage of being visible to, and able to hit on, the many university girls that will walk up and down the street (which is one of the main ones in the city and full of traffic). "Come on in ladies, the water's fine"

A Birthday

Today my younger sister, Emma, turns 12. I originally planned to write something about the joys of being 12 and of all the things she could look forward to in the coming year. To do so I was required to think back to the day that I turned 12. When was that again? After doing some quick math I recalled that the year was 1997, and it was half-way through my grade 7 year. Hold the phone - grade 7? This does not bode well.

I remember the first day of grade 7, the first year of Junior High School, the first year of moving between classes and having different teachers for different subjects. The Year of Independence, as it was referred to by my wonderful grade 6 teacher. I had eagerly awaited this day all summer. In my brand new backpack were the treasured school supplies: fresh notebooks, a new pencil case with carefully sharpened pencils, a shiny new geometry kit, and a homemade lunch. We were herded into the gym and made to sit upon the floor while teachers one by one went up and read out the names of the students in their homeforms. The gym was hot, and rank with the smell of prepubescent boys and girls who had not yet entirely caught on to the intricacies of personal hygene. My name was called and I was to be in homeform 7-1. I followed my teacher, a lovely, slightly plump woman, out of the gym along with the rest of my peers, full of excitement and brimming with enthousiasm to begin this great adventure.

Unfortunately, in my case, this year was destined to be the Year of Social Torture. I was new to the school as my elementary school only went to grade 6. Most of the kids at this school, however, had been together since kindergarden. They were cliquey to say the least, and distainful of any newcomers (there were three of us). Almost immediately there were 3 girls (Leslie, Whitney, and Krystal) who singled me out for their undivided torturous attention. Their method was simple, but planned. One would say something kind and lead me to believe there was hope of friendship, and then the other two would step in and squash me with cutting remarks about my clothing, books, glasses, friends, hairstyle, or anything else they could think of. It varied from day to day which one would be the friendly one, but the routine was very much the same. It did not take me long to figure it out, and from then on they were all equally nasty.

I remember coming home in tears and proclaiming that I would never again return to school. There had been an incident in the girls locker room where they had humiliated me in front of all the rest of the girls of the conjoined two gym classes. The issue? They determined that I didn't wear a bra. There was no need - I was still flat as a board - but that didn't matter, they were in their glory parading the fact around the locker room and watching as the other girls broke out into laughter. Girls can be so cruel. I soon after began wearing a sports bra, and although it itched and I hated it, it was, without a doubt, better than the alternative.

I'm not sure what made me such an appealing target. Was it the fact that my academic performance was so much better than theirs? Was it because I displayed no interest in boys whatsoever and yet always had one or two following me around? Was it because I had lost all interest in befriending them and they, in fact, felt rejected by no longer being able to reject me? I didn't know then, and I don't pretend to know now.

With the watchful eye of my teachers in the classroom, my incredibly understanding mother who let me take "mental health days" when things got too rough, and the brillance of my guidance counsellor who had me tested for admission to the enrichment program, I struggled my way through seventh grade. Over the summer I transfered schools and in the fall I began again, this time in the enrichment (or "gifted") program with a much nicer group of peers who I would eventually graduate high school with.

I think of all this, and then I think of Emma. Emma who is always bouncing from one social event to the next, giggling with her friends, and telling me stories about the marvelous things they do together. Emma has none of the social awkwardness or insecurity that I had at her age. What I had to work hard to attain comes to her as second nature. She is smart, social, and well-grounded. What could I possibly have to tell Emma that would help guide her in this next year of life? Sometimes I think that she is a better judge of character than I am even now. She is already miles ahead of where I was and I am incredibly proud of her. So happy birthday, Emma. I know that this year will be just one of the many wonderful years in store for you.

Superheroes

Someone recently asked me who my favourite superhero was. When I replied, “Batman”, he scoffed and said, “Batman wasn’t a superhero – he didn’t have any powers”. That is exactly what I like about Batman. Out of all the superheroes created, Batman was the only real man. Lets look at the list of superheroes and how they got their powers:

Superman – from a distant planet
Spiderman – bit by a radioactive spider
The Incredible Hulk – exposed to gamma radiation
Daredevil – exposed to radiation
X-men – born mutants
…and then there’s Batman, a wealthy philanthropist, but otherwise without powers.

Superheroes are meant to inspire and provide motivation people to do right and help make the world a better place. They are there to provide the ultimate upwards social comparison. Psychology tells us that social comparisons can affect how we feel about ourselves, and role models represent the goals of self-improvement. Role models are only motivating if the achievement is attainable, otherwise they can have a deprecating effect on self-esteem.

Lets face facts: I’m not from another planet, I will never turn into a superhero by being exposed to radiation, and I certainly don’t want to believe that I was born a freak. Do I want to go about my days believing that I am without the necessary powers to do good? Do I want to believe that simply because I was born mortal and without the ability to fly, outrun a speeding bullet, or swing from buildings on spider webs, that I can not contribute in any noticeable way to society? Certainly not.

So I’ll never have these superpowers. I may take on Batman’s approach and support the underprivileged classes by other means. I may become wealthy enough to support modern-day heroic feats, such as providing social assistance to the needy, or funding to life-saving research. Even if not truly wealthy I can become a foster parent, or give some small amount to charity. I may become an activist and speak out on behalf of the overlooked and forgotten. Would these acts not make me a hero to some or to many? Yes, with the right role model, I could become a hero and right role model is obviously Batman.

Kitten?

Here it is, a quiet Monday afternoon and I find myself once again contemplating the thing that has been frequently on my mind of late: getting a kitten. I love cats. I also love dogs, but I think I am probably more of a cat person. Sure, dogs are loyal and loving, but cats are beautiful and independent and require much less maintenance than do dogs. On these quiet days I can't help but think how lovely it would be to have a little handful of kitten to play with and to cuddle. Something small and soft to curl up on the foot of the bed while I read.


Look at how adorable this one is!
















This would be the perfect time to get one too, if I was to get one. I'm the only one here for the next few weeks, and so this would provide plenty of time for the two of us to get used to one another and the apartment before the roommates all came back and the house is filled with the typical chaos brought on by the university term.

There are two problems that present themselves:

1. The leases technically stipulates that we are not to have pets
2. Transportation issues

As to the lease, we already have a hampster (Parsnip, affectionately called Snippy) and it is against the bylaws of the city for landlords to prevent their tenants from owning pets. Furthermore, we're clean and have an excellent rapor with both the landlord and the maintenance man, so I'm fairly sure that they wouldn't put up too much of a stink. The biggest consequence would be that we would no longer be able to be the display apartment for potential tenants, something that has brought us a small amount of money every month.

The real thing that is stopping me from right this second running out to pick up a kitten is the second point. I live such a distance from home that I have to take either the bus or the train. Buses do not accept pets at all, and trains only if there is a baggage car - which there never is on this particular route. There is, then, absolutely no way I could bring the little thing with me when I go home on holiday. For a weekend trip this is no trouble at all, Jessica has already said she'd look after the little mite, but what about Christmas, when I could potentially be at home for two weeks? Everyone else would also be heading out. What would I do with my cat then? A puzzlement.

9 phone calls too many

As you will recall, I had a terrible date with this guy on Friday. It is now Sunday. He has called me ten times since Saturday morning. Granted, he's only left one message, but the number of people that phone me from a local number in the summer is practically zero. Most people are out of town and so ring in on a long-distance ring. Any of my friends that are in town communicate by instant messenger and email (we're all a bunch of tech-dorks, what can I say?). Considering that the last phone call I had from someone local was, oh, about 3 weeks ago, I think it's safe to assume that this is the guy calling repeatedly.

Now, according to dating protocol, it is frowned upon, even seen as somewhat desperate, to call the person the day after the event - unless it was a truly fantastic date and you have absolutely no doubt whatsoever that they had as good a time as you did. I can't say that I've ever been a huge fan of this "rule", but I can say that to call this many times in such short order leaves a somewhat dubious impression - especially in the age of caller ID and *69 (the "who just called me" button, as some call it). So am I slightly freaked out? Oh yes. Am I seriously rethinking the circumstances under which I will give out my number in the future? You better believe it.

This begs the question: "how will I handle this now?". Obviously I cannot continue to let the machine get it forever. The original plan was to wait a while after his original message and call him back with a polite let-down. This was before I came home to the 8 hang-ups on my answering machine today. Still, I am aware that the mature solution would be to call him back and put an end to this regardless. I can't say, however, that I am looking forward to the event at all. Should it really be necessary to "break up" with someone you've only gone out with once?

From April Fools

Our apartment - upside down.

This is a photo that I recently found on my computer. It's from April Fools when my best friend and roommate, Jessica, and I decided to prank our other roommate. We flipped every piece of furniture in the living room upside down, and when she got back from her lab that evening we were lying on the floor underneath the couch playing video games as if nothing was out of place at all. She came in, stopped, looked at us for a minute, and then said, "you guys are nuts."

I think Jess and I probably had more fun in flipping everything upside down than with her actual reaction. Ah well. Still good time.

Walk-Safe

First of all, a technical problem that I'm hoping someone can help me with: I can't seem to title my posts. When I create them there is no box or anything that would allow me to do so. Does anyone know how to fix this?

And now on to more entertaining events. Last night, as I mentioned earlier, I was scheduled for walk-safe duty. It was actually one of the less exciting nights I've been on. Things are fairly slow in the summer, since the student population is pretty pitiful. We're all eagerly awaiting September when we can look forward to about 50 walks a night, as opposed to the measly 1-3 we've been getting these days.

For anyone that may be unclear on the concept of a walk-safe program, it's a student volunteer based club that is designed to provide people (students or otherwise) with accompaniment while they walk to and from wherever it is that they need to get to after dark. We're all trained in emergency first aid and CPR "B" and go in teams of two (one male, one female) dressed in jackets decorated with our name and logo in reflective lettering. We also carry first aid supplies, a radio, and a flashlight. Normally throughout the school year we run from dusk to 3am, although in the summer we're running under more limited hours due to a slight understaffing. The club is highly respected on campus and everywhere we go we're greeted by cheers and high fives and the like.

Last night we spent from 9pm (opening time) to midnight doing crosswords, playing cards, doing homework, and chatting. Finally, at just after midnight we got a call from a girl that needed a walk home from work. We donned the gear and off we went. This is the part about the whole thing that I love: the meeting of new people. I'm that unfortunate combination of social and yet slightly introverted. I love being around people, and when I am, I have no problem talking to them, but I am just plain terrible at introducing myself to people. This often means that if I don't have someone or something putting me together with people and doing the introduction for me, it can be a somewhat lonely existence. With the walk-safe program I have the perfect excuse to talk to complete strangers, and as I always have a walk partner as a kind of backer, I'm not intimidated in the slightest. This time it was even better because as it turned out the girl lived in my building. She and I had a wonderful time discussing the incident where the fire-alarm went off and couldn't be shut off, even by the fire department, and the day recently where we had no hot water due to a pipe break on the 5th floor. (Such are the marvels of student housing)

Creation of a blog

My first post in my new blog. What a week this has been. First of all, this was registration week for classes in the fall. What this means is that as soon as the online registration opens, the server is swamped with people desperately trying to get their schedules exactly as they want them, and to get into those hot classes that fill up faster than you would believe. This then causes the much inadequate server to run like molasses in January. I logged on at midnight on Monday when registration opened, and I was done by four am. I am very pleased with my choices, however. This year I will be taking:

1. Applied Anthropology
2. Religion, Ritual and Magic
3. Rites of Passage
4. The Anthropology of Mass Media in a Globalized World
5. Philosophy of Sex, Love & Friendship
6. Gender and Sexuality in the Ancient World
7. Field Methods in Cultural Anthropology
8. History of Anthropological Theory
9. Kinship, Marriage and Gender
10. Abnormal Psychology or Cognitive Psychology (still debating this one)

Phew! What a load. Still, this looks to be the most fun year yet (with the possibly exception of the Theory course) and I am tremendously excited. In addition, I managed to schedule the fall term such that I have both Mondays and Fridays off. Am I loving the idea of a four day weekend every weekend? You betcha.

I am a part of the campus walk-safe program, and have been on patrol two nights a week. I've also learned that I made the cut for the fall and winter terms, and also to participate in Frosh Week. Frosh week is sure to be absolute insanity. It starts out with a weekend retreat for all the volunteers and then immediately into Frosh Week, ending only 3 days before the start of classes. This will be a straight 192 hours of Frosh. Intense. Right now we're in the process of getting clothing organized and cheers invented and games created. It's havoc, but it's exciting. We have our first giant walk-safe get together a week from today, and it's all anyone in the club can talk about.

Last night I went on what can only be described as the Worst First Date Ever. The guy was completely uncommunicative. I felt like I was talking to myself the entire time. When he did decide to talk, it was to question me (in a rather scornful tone) about my schooling. Apparently he dropped out of high school and has been working in a factory ever since making what he described as "good money". Therefore he doesn't see why anyone should be in school, nor does he understand why anyone might actually enjoy school.

To make an already impossible date worse, he'd taken me to hear his brother play in a band. Normally I'm all up for that. I like live music. What he'd failed to mention, however, was that his brother plays in a heavy metal band. Heavy Metal. Now, normally I can at least appreciate music, even if I don't particularly like it, based on the skill involved, and harmonies, and all that, but there is absolutely nothing musical, in my opinion, about a guy screaming into a microphone over top of irregular drum rhythm and screeching guitars.

In addition to the terrible music, he kept buying me drinks, which I did not want and could not convince him not to buy me, and so much of my night was spent finding inventive ways to get rid of drinks without his noticing. These included dumping them in the bathroom, leaving them on counters, having the bartender pour them out for me, leaving them outside on one of the innumerable smoking breaks (that's right, he also smokes - ick), and passing them off to already very drunk strangers.

All in all, a fairly terrible night. I probably should have left far before I actually did. So if you notice that I'm screening my calls for the next little while...you know why.

Tonight I'm on walk-safe patrol. I'm very much looking forward to a calm night of monopoly and walking with friends, sans the heavy metal music!

Quiz

I don't give a whole lot of credit to these quizes, but they are a lot of fun. I can't say I'd given much thought to being an alternative medicine guru!

Your #1 Match: INFJ

The Protector You live your life with integrity, originality, vision, and creativity.Independent and stubborn, you rarely stray from your vision - no matter what it is.You are an excellent listener, with almost infinite patience.You have complex, deep feelings, and you take great care to express them. You would make a great photographer, alternative medicine guru, or teacher.

Your #2 Match: INFP

The Idealist You are creative with a great imagination, living in your own inner world.Open minded and accepting, you strive for harmony in your important relationships.It takes a long time for people to get to know you. You are hesitant to let people get close.But once you care for someone, you do everything you can to help them grow and develop. You would make an excellent writer, psychologist, or artist.

What's Your Personality Type?