I love lists. Love them. I just usually don't actually take the time to write them down because I always end up abandoning them. But recently I have started lists of books. I started one to keep track of which Lee Child books I've read, and another one for Laurell K Hamilton's The Anita Blake series. This went over so well I reexamined my library list which I compiled in a notebook from many different sources then promptly abandoned. On the page after the general library list was a list of vampire books--with only one book listed. So I decided to indulge my curiosity and list out exactly which vampire books I had read and consequently rate them on a scale of 1-5 stars. As I was compiling this list with my sister (With a separate column for her rating on the books that we had both read) I commented that I'd always wanted to make a list of every book that I'd ever read, but the task was too daunting. I'd never actually started it because I knew there was no way to remember the books I had previously read, and so I abandoned that particular list before it even began. "That's not necessarily a problem," My sister told me. "You can just list the ones you remember and start from there." So what else was I supposed to do but spend the majority of the day (The first half being completely used up in being absorbed in a book, or course) compiling a list of every book that I can remember reading in the past three years, complete with ratings and multi-line comments? I mean, honestly.
And so I have it. Fifty-two of the many books I can remember reading, all but two or three complete with in depth comments about the quality of the book, the depth of the characters, the nature of the plot and so on. What has come over me?
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Magazines
I love magazines. I look through them, cut them apart, and throw them away. I cut out every picture that appeals to me--because I like the colors, because the shadows just make it perfect, because I love the dress, because it's about a life I'll never understand--and keep them in a (very fat, overflowing) folder, one for full pages, another for smaller pictures. I take them out and look at them, arrange them on a page, and paste them in a book. I love the squares all arranged together, big ones next to small ones, I love picking out a handful and seeing how all their colors go together. I love photography, but mostly it's just the colors. I love color.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
The Witch of Cologne
"Rest assured, Sir, I never jest. I just have a fatal curiosity."
- Ruth, The Witch of Cologne, Tobsha Learner
- Ruth, The Witch of Cologne, Tobsha Learner
Apart from having a gorgeous cover, this book was good. More than good. It was one of those books that surprises you--I just picked it up on a whim, and didn't think too much of it, but it got me. It felt like a movie to me, third person present tense, scene by scene. I generally hold historical fiction in contempt, unless it's done right and this was. It even made me cry in the end... and I rarely do that ;-).
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Friday, June 13, 2008
Order in the closet!
Emerging from my hole, I realize that I have not posted in a while. I usually have several projects going at any given time and once I set my mind to accomplish something I throw myself into wholeheartedly. You cannot say that I lack for enthusiasm. My sister told me that I may look good and hard before I leap, but only to plan the leap itself. The landing is yet another matter, falling under my motto, "I can only deal with one crisis at a time." I do not multitask very well, and looking and leaping and landing falls under the category of multitasking. I'm not very good with details or precision or straight lines, but I do not lack for zeal. I come up with a project and become immersed in it, planning and replanning the minutiae of how many times over because I never thought about it before hand. I throw myself into projects and quickly form tunnel vision. Nothing else matters but the project, there are no other priorities, nothing else happening, nothing that I can pay attention to. Every bit of me is involved and it takes over my world.
This is not necessarily a bad thing--enthusiasm certainly is not a fault. But many times I am so engrossed in the present that the future doesn't seem real. I deal with the here and now and when the future becomes the present, then I will deal with it. I also lack the capacity for details. I've always been baffled by why some details (like money, street names or decimal places) elude me and why other preoccupy me. I can spend hours painting a design, filling the paint in just up to the edges, staying just inside the lines. I have intricate organization methods (The Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler anyone?) but half the time there are papers and various bits and pieces strewn across my floor (and who knows where they belong). I am picky about what order my clothes hang in (all color coordinated, arranged so that each garment compliments the ones to either side of it, and no color clashes with another), but have "rubble" (as my father is so fond of calling it) on every available surface and tucked into corners behind the furniture. I am a neat freak and a slob all mixed up into one. I never understood this tendency towards both chaos and order, which endlessly frustrated my parents when I was younger, until I read my personality profile. I am an INFJ (Introverted iNtuitive Feeling Judging), a pretty rare personality type with quirks of its own. Reading about the preoccupation the INFJ has with order made things click into place for me:
"INFJs place great importance on having things orderly and systematic in their outer world. They put a lot of energy into identifying the best system for getting things done, and constantly define and re-define the priorities in their lives. On the other hand, INFJs operate within themselves on an intuitive basis which is entirely spontaneous. They know things intuitively, without being able to pinpoint why, and without detailed knowledge of the subject at hand. ... This is something of a conflict between the inner and outer worlds, and may result in the INFJ not being as organized as other Judging types tend to be. Or we may see some signs of disarray in an otherwise orderly tendency, such as a consistently messy desk. "
(http://www.personalitypage.com/INFJ.html)
I read that and I laughed, just a disorderly desk? (And 'disorderly' sounds so... tame.) How about a swirling hurricane that descends upon every room that I enter? I have always believed it to be a character flaw. My father has always placed a great importance on doing things the right way and leaving everything in order. I always took his bent towards precision to the be "ideal" or the norm. I never understood that it was just a difference, a product of the way my mind processes information and deals with the world around me vs his methods.
I have found the whole concept of analyzing personality to be fascinating. I'm not certain where you can find a good Meyers-Briggs personality test online, but the link above has really good in depth descriptions of each personality type. Once you see it you may find yourself analyzing everyone you meet, like I do.
This is not necessarily a bad thing--enthusiasm certainly is not a fault. But many times I am so engrossed in the present that the future doesn't seem real. I deal with the here and now and when the future becomes the present, then I will deal with it. I also lack the capacity for details. I've always been baffled by why some details (like money, street names or decimal places) elude me and why other preoccupy me. I can spend hours painting a design, filling the paint in just up to the edges, staying just inside the lines. I have intricate organization methods (The Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler anyone?) but half the time there are papers and various bits and pieces strewn across my floor (and who knows where they belong). I am picky about what order my clothes hang in (all color coordinated, arranged so that each garment compliments the ones to either side of it, and no color clashes with another), but have "rubble" (as my father is so fond of calling it) on every available surface and tucked into corners behind the furniture. I am a neat freak and a slob all mixed up into one. I never understood this tendency towards both chaos and order, which endlessly frustrated my parents when I was younger, until I read my personality profile. I am an INFJ (Introverted iNtuitive Feeling Judging), a pretty rare personality type with quirks of its own. Reading about the preoccupation the INFJ has with order made things click into place for me:
"INFJs place great importance on having things orderly and systematic in their outer world. They put a lot of energy into identifying the best system for getting things done, and constantly define and re-define the priorities in their lives. On the other hand, INFJs operate within themselves on an intuitive basis which is entirely spontaneous. They know things intuitively, without being able to pinpoint why, and without detailed knowledge of the subject at hand. ... This is something of a conflict between the inner and outer worlds, and may result in the INFJ not being as organized as other Judging types tend to be. Or we may see some signs of disarray in an otherwise orderly tendency, such as a consistently messy desk. "
(http://www.personalitypage.com/INFJ.html)
I read that and I laughed, just a disorderly desk? (And 'disorderly' sounds so... tame.) How about a swirling hurricane that descends upon every room that I enter? I have always believed it to be a character flaw. My father has always placed a great importance on doing things the right way and leaving everything in order. I always took his bent towards precision to the be "ideal" or the norm. I never understood that it was just a difference, a product of the way my mind processes information and deals with the world around me vs his methods.
I have found the whole concept of analyzing personality to be fascinating. I'm not certain where you can find a good Meyers-Briggs personality test online, but the link above has really good in depth descriptions of each personality type. Once you see it you may find yourself analyzing everyone you meet, like I do.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Overheard In the Kitchen
"I'm sorry. That wasn't covered in my personality profile."
My sister and I have been researching our Jung/Myers-Briggs personality types, which has lead to all sorts of discussions. She is an INFP (Introverted iNtuitive Feeling Perceiving) and I am an INFJ (Introverted iNtuitive Feeling Judging). My personality type tends to me more critical and control freak-ish but she has inherited a hefty dose of "I know my way is right because I've thought it through from every conceivable angle!!" from my father and his family.
I was mixing cake batter and she was sitting and watching me (a strange reversal of roles for us) and occasionally commenting. "Don't mix it too much or it will get tough. Go ahead and put the spatula in the sink and use the whisk instead. Remember to only pour half of the batter in the pan." I am not a patient person (although my personality profile says I most likely am). I never have been and I am fairly certain that I never will have the saint-like patience of my sister. "You are a very bad passenger," I informed her. She promptly left the room in amused frustration. "I'm sorry," She said, "That wasn't covered in my personality profile."
My sister and I have been researching our Jung/Myers-Briggs personality types, which has lead to all sorts of discussions. She is an INFP (Introverted iNtuitive Feeling Perceiving) and I am an INFJ (Introverted iNtuitive Feeling Judging). My personality type tends to me more critical and control freak-ish but she has inherited a hefty dose of "I know my way is right because I've thought it through from every conceivable angle!!" from my father and his family.
I was mixing cake batter and she was sitting and watching me (a strange reversal of roles for us) and occasionally commenting. "Don't mix it too much or it will get tough. Go ahead and put the spatula in the sink and use the whisk instead. Remember to only pour half of the batter in the pan." I am not a patient person (although my personality profile says I most likely am). I never have been and I am fairly certain that I never will have the saint-like patience of my sister. "You are a very bad passenger," I informed her. She promptly left the room in amused frustration. "I'm sorry," She said, "That wasn't covered in my personality profile."
Monday, June 2, 2008
I Am
I am taffy stuck and tongue tied
Stutter-shook and uptight
Pull me out from inside
I am ready
I am ready
I am ready
I am fine
- Counting Crows, Colorblind
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Good NIGHT Girls!"
No one in the world can make me laugh like my sister. Absolutely no one. Every time one or the other isn't home for a couple of days my mother always comments on how quiet it is, how much she misses hearing us talking and laughing.
I've been dogsitting this week 45 minutes away and we were both getting a bit bored being alone so my sister came to visit. We went grocery shopping at 8:00 at night then hung out and made chocolate chip pancakes. It was getting late and she didn't feel like driving back home so she stayed over. We were trying to get comfortable in bed with a 120 lb spoiled dog in between us, which took quite a while, but we finally got settled and turned the light out. The two of us in the same room at night is trouble. It always has been, it always will be. We don't fight, we talk and laugh. When we were little my dad would have to come upstairs almost every night, his footsteps thumping heavily on the stairs, stopping in our door way to say, "Put your heads on your pillows, close your eyes, and go to sleep." After a few minutes of silence we would inevitably erupt in laughter and more talking, prompting him to bellow up the stairs, "Good night girls!"
That night was no exception. We talked a bit and then started to drift off to sleep until I said something funny (Who knows what it was), and that was it. "Do you remember the last time we dogsat Aurora and she we couldn't stop laughing and she was glaring at us because she wanted to go to sleep?" She asked. I actually didn't, but that prolonged the conversation.
She was mean and got a song stuck in my head, so I rolled over and asked, "Do your ears hang low?" Ask her that and she will have it in her head for days. It's priceless. Somehow after that it turned to writing and giving each other detailed accounts of how our collective projects have been going. After swapping ideas and debating plot lines it ran to books, specifically a book I'd been reading about an assassin and an inn.
"We should run an inn," I said. She replied that two sisters running an inn was cliched, and suggested that we have a bouncer to shake up the image. "A bouncer?!" I asked incredulously. She started giggling and tried to explain it in a way that didn't sound completely ridiculous. "He'd just be a guy to help with the luggage and occasionally intimidate the guests," She decided. By this time neither of us were anywhere near sleep, so we debated what type of house to get for the inn, which took a while--We never did agree on anything. then she yawned and demanded why I had to say anything funny in the first place, "I was just about to get to sleep!" she said. (What was it I said?)
She left the next afternoon after taking care of the animals food and water for me while I was glorying in a bed empty of other people and bratty dogs (Aurora was whining and stamping her foot outside the bathroom at that point), and we both went back to our own personal states of ennui without each other to break it up.
I've been dogsitting this week 45 minutes away and we were both getting a bit bored being alone so my sister came to visit. We went grocery shopping at 8:00 at night then hung out and made chocolate chip pancakes. It was getting late and she didn't feel like driving back home so she stayed over. We were trying to get comfortable in bed with a 120 lb spoiled dog in between us, which took quite a while, but we finally got settled and turned the light out. The two of us in the same room at night is trouble. It always has been, it always will be. We don't fight, we talk and laugh. When we were little my dad would have to come upstairs almost every night, his footsteps thumping heavily on the stairs, stopping in our door way to say, "Put your heads on your pillows, close your eyes, and go to sleep." After a few minutes of silence we would inevitably erupt in laughter and more talking, prompting him to bellow up the stairs, "Good night girls!"
That night was no exception. We talked a bit and then started to drift off to sleep until I said something funny (Who knows what it was), and that was it. "Do you remember the last time we dogsat Aurora and she we couldn't stop laughing and she was glaring at us because she wanted to go to sleep?" She asked. I actually didn't, but that prolonged the conversation.
She was mean and got a song stuck in my head, so I rolled over and asked, "Do your ears hang low?" Ask her that and she will have it in her head for days. It's priceless. Somehow after that it turned to writing and giving each other detailed accounts of how our collective projects have been going. After swapping ideas and debating plot lines it ran to books, specifically a book I'd been reading about an assassin and an inn.
"We should run an inn," I said. She replied that two sisters running an inn was cliched, and suggested that we have a bouncer to shake up the image. "A bouncer?!" I asked incredulously. She started giggling and tried to explain it in a way that didn't sound completely ridiculous. "He'd just be a guy to help with the luggage and occasionally intimidate the guests," She decided. By this time neither of us were anywhere near sleep, so we debated what type of house to get for the inn, which took a while--We never did agree on anything. then she yawned and demanded why I had to say anything funny in the first place, "I was just about to get to sleep!" she said. (What was it I said?)
She left the next afternoon after taking care of the animals food and water for me while I was glorying in a bed empty of other people and bratty dogs (Aurora was whining and stamping her foot outside the bathroom at that point), and we both went back to our own personal states of ennui without each other to break it up.
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