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What A Long Strange Trip It's Been
Sunday, 20 July 2014
Giving up on the day...
Mood:  down
Topic: Ponderings

Here it is only 8:40am and I am thinking about giving up on the day.

I'm stressed out yet my vacation officially started on Thursday when I got off of work.

What the hell world? Did I need more shit to deal with?

So, yeah, Friday night the refrigerator seemed not to be working as well, and yesterday it was confirmed, it is basically dead. The freezer isn't frozen, and the fridge side is barely chilled. Thus, now I need to shell out like $1,300 to get a new refrigerator!

For Pete's sake - I am putting money into getting the house repaired all over the frinkin' place:

  • $145 a week to a handyman doing all the work
  • $1000 to the local hardware store of all the supplies
  • $1600 on replacing the hot tub
  • No numbers yet on how much the paint is going to cost to paint the entire outside of the house and garage/barn
  • No numbers yet on a new roof - thinking $5,000
  • No numbers yet on hiring an exterminator to make sure the house is bug free and all the wood is safe
  • No numbers yet on staining and sealing the deck

AND NOW - a new refrigerator! Seriously?

I am just sick and tired of this shit. I'm not made of money, and even though I saved for this stuff, all the unexpected crap my handyman keeps finding is starting to really get to me.

My vacation is basically f***ked and I am giving up and going to bed.

Oh, and did I mention that right before I started writing I got up to get a glass of water to take my morning Levothyroxin and slammed the pinky toe of my right foot into our library door? Yeah, let's hope that's not broken.

OH, and yeah, double great - I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow morning and Kyle needs to go to Wichita for his final orthodontist appointment tomorrow - wee!

Not a happy camper right now. Today is not the day to ask me for ANYTHING!



Posted by amiga/trippiehippie at 8:49 AM CDT
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Friday, 6 May 2011
Mood:  incredulous
Now Playing: Bob and Tom's Morning Show
Topic: Ponderings

Yesterday driving to work, I was passing the Hydraulic exit in the midst of what passes for rush hour traffic in Wichita, when I spotted a man walking on the side of the road. He had a large hiking backpack and what was obviously a single person tent rolled up on top of it. He looked like the hippies that used to follow The Dead around - long hair, beard, tie dye t-shirt, flannel tied around his waist, etc. I thought to myself how odd to see such a familiar sight in Kansas of all places. Guys like this one were commonplace in Northern California on the road between Trinidad and Ferndale - a thirty mile span encompassing McKinleyville, Arcata, Eureka, and Fortuna.


Had this been California, and had I been in my old Volvo, and had it been ten years ago or more - I might have stopped to give this guy a ride; my how things have changed. I've only picked up three hitchhikers in my life, and only one of them was a man, and that was in Valencia of all places AND he turned out to be a great connection to a job with Dell Arte School of Physical Theater in Blue Lake! The other two were women who were obviously stranded on the side of the road - car plainly in sight either smoking with the hood up or flat tire without a spar. It was common courtesy on my part helping another woman in need of aid. I couldn't consciously leave another woman stranded when I could provide assistance and other people were callously leaving said woman on the side of the road. Especially so in NoCal when it could break out in sudden rain in the blink of an eye in certain season, and when it was so scarcely populated in certain areas.


I have never hitchhiked though. The closest I have come to it would be the time I caught a ride with Chrissy and Stacy on our way back from Magic Mountain with three guys we met there with Chrissy's church group. I really don't think of that as "hitchin' a ride", and it was hardly dangerous as either Stacy or I could have beat the crap out of the guys easily - scrawny as they were.


I have been with others in a car when the driver stopped to pick up a hitchhiker. Lisa Hoffman will remember that one forever, won't you Lisa! Talk about a strange turn of events - Elk Dancing, frog hunting in Fern Canyon, lawn chair surfing, and then picking up some guy needing a ride to the Chevron. Wild day that was!


David, my beloved brother, had his share of hitchhikers - which he so generously shared with me - literally. Like the time he was driving back from Seattle and stopped by my house with his "three friends". It turned out, so I found out as David and his friends ate my Thanksgiving leftover and then turned to leave at 1am, that one of his friends was in fact a hitchhiker they picked up on the road. By the time I found that out, the hitchhiker was dead to the world asleep on my living room couch and David and his friends were out my door, entering their pick-up truck and almost out of my driveway. Yeah, I slept well that night! NOT.


Posted by amiga/trippiehippie at 6:20 AM CDT
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Thursday, 5 May 2011
Dreams about climbing?
Mood:  quizzical
Now Playing: Bob and Tom's Morning Show
Topic: Ponderings

Most of the night, I dreamt about climbing a very tall building. It was an incredibly difficult 'free climb', no ropes, only finger tips. But...

  • I am affraid of heights
  • I've never climbed anything in my life (mountain, tree, fence, etc.) 
  • I was wearing a peasant shirt, long skirt, and Birkenstocks
  • I was age 17 in the dream

Now, does climbing a building have any significant meaning? I sure don't know, but boy was it an odd feeling. I don't mean odd feeling like "wow, I'm climbing a building" because in my dream, climbing the building was a no brainer for me. I knew how to climb it. It was tiring, challenging, but it was totally something within my skill. The odd feeling came with the knowledge that I would be arrested when I reached the top. Yet, I still kept climbing as if I didn't care I would be arrested.

The building was similar to the federal building in the Westwood area of Los Angeles on Wilshire Blvd, at least in my mind. It had the feeling of the federal building, as if climbing it would get me in trouble. If you have no idea what the building I am talking about looks like, Google it. There are plenty of pictures of this monolith of a building. I have been to that building many times. When UCLA had its annual Homecoming Carnival parking at the federal building was a common practice. I parked there when I went to go see the Jerry Garcia Band play at the Pauley Pavilion arena on the UCLA campus April 16, 1993. That was my last time being close up and personal with that building.

The first time I was truly up close and personal with that building in LA was a protest in high school. The protest was about getting all citizens and states of the US to recognize Martin Luther King, Jr. day. It had officially been made a federal holiday but a-holes like John McCain and the Gov. of Arizona refused to recognize the holiday. It was a well attended protest, and I remembering feeling very good about being there. So, I don't have bad memories of the federal building.

Why then should I be climbing this building in my dream?  I haven't a clue. I awoke feeling both sore, yet mentally refreshed. Sore? Yes, as if I had been climbing all night. Perhaps I was. I'll have to ask Matt if I was climbing in my sleep when we meet up for dinner after work tonight.


Posted by amiga/trippiehippie at 6:03 AM CDT
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Wednesday, 4 May 2011
Memories of Learning How to Drive
Mood:  chillin'
Topic: Ponderings

My step-daughter Michelle will be turning sixteen in July, and starting this past January I have begun to teach her how to drive. I took her out early on a Sunday morning about 45 minutes before sunrise and let her drive around the empty parking lot at the high school. It was the first time she was behind the wheel of a car, and it went fairly well by my estimation. It did bring back memories for me though.


I was taught how to drive by both my mother and my father. My experience with my mother was in a large parking lot at night somewhere in El Segundo - like the E1 building formerly owned by Hughes Aircraft. There are curbs, stop lights, and parking of course, but there is also a fairly large road that runs around the whole facility. It was blessedly empty as I went for my first drive in our white 1984 Toyota Corolla. Later, my father took me driving in his truck - on the street. I remember the first time I hit 55 mph driving west on Jefferson Blvd. headed through what was then the marshy area between Centinela and Lincoln. It was pretty cool, and very exciting. The 405 freeway was another feeling entirely. My poor father must have had nerves of steel to do that, teaching me to drive in Los Angeles traffic. I will say this though, out of everyone I know, with the exclusion of my father, I can parallel park like nobody's business. He taught me how to do that in a full size pick up truck on LA streets parking between two sub-compacts. Yeah, seriously! I learned how, and scored 97 out of 100 on my drivers test; passed first time out of the gate. Thank you, Daddy!


I've been driving now for more than 22 years and it still seems a fresh memory in my mind. The wind coming through the window as I hit 55 on Jefferson, my dad's face, cheerfully smiling at me, and him telling me, "Good job, Pun'kin" - it's all so clear, like it was yesterday. Laughing

Posted by amiga/trippiehippie at 9:11 PM CDT
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Monday, 13 December 2010
A bit implusive, but why not...
Mood:  quizzical
Topic: Ponderings

This morning while searching through my dresser I came across a CD that I've had for over ten years, nearly 13. It is a CD of piano instrumentals written and performed by a former boyfriend/love from my youth (age 16). It kind of blew me away seeing it there in my dresser drawer next to my good jewelry. I've kept it as one of the last things Brian ever gave me. I have but one picture of us together, the very same that I had put in my Sr. yearbook on my half page in the back. I had kept all of his love letters to me until I married Matt, and I threw them away, moving on with my life in early 2003. *Note* I kept those letters even though I married Mike Arrasmith! LOL - now that is telling. I would bet a silver dollar if there was a love meter out there I loved Brian more than I ended up loving Mike Arrasmith!

Anyway, I love my husband, Matt, more than I love any other person in the world (yeah, I think I can say that even including my family), and those letters just reminded me of how much I hurt Brian (blogged on that back in September 2008) and lost him as a friend, and oddly enough, they reminded me of my bad choices with men - loosing Brian, getting engaged to Jack, marrying Mike.

Well, now that there is such a thing as Facebook, and that CD planted Brian's name in my brain this morning, I went searching for him. Three short clicks and BAM there he was, Brian Neumann. My guts twisted and memories flooded back to me: the homecoming football game for John Muir High School at the Rose Bowl in 1988; dinner with his parents at that wonderful Mexican restaurant; his brother's space mural on the bedroom wall; listening to him play the piano.

One of the best memories of age 16 I have was the implusive decision I made to meet Brian at the airport when he was coming home from basic training from Ft Sill, Oklahoma. I remember that I asked Jenny Gallegos and Leo Wagoner to help me. Leo and Jenny gave me a ride to the airport. I remember what I was wearing too - a full length red circle skirt, and a white ribbed blouse with red, yellow, and blue shooting stars, and white keds with white bobby socks. I was so incredibly excited, I can remember sweating up a storm and my pulse racing like I was going to have a heart attack. I knew the flight number and the airline, and I waited across from the gate wondering if he'd see me first or I'd see him first or what. Wow, what a crazy memory. So sweet and naive I was then - if I do say so myself.

I remember bringing Brian home to meet my mother and step-father and taking him to a football game at my high school. We had such little time together before he went off to North Carolina to Fort Bragg. It was a whirlwind, and I don't think I could have asked for more fun.

And now, well, I sent him a Friend Request on Facebook. Amazing it would be to get in touch after all this time. I wrote him a little message, too, hoping he'd remember me. I wonder if he will. I don't know how big an effect I had on him - we were so young and all.  It's been so long, and I don't know if he has thought of me in forever and a day, or if he, unlike me, kept my letters. Probably not. Last I heard from him he was married too.

Well, I'll just have to wait until I get home and check Facebook to see if he's accepted my Friend request. Simply incredible to reach out and "click someone" after all these years. If he doesn't repond, or doesn't remember then, oh well, but what if he does accept the Friend Request? Do I bring him up to speed with so much that has happened? I wonder how he is, and if he's happy. I sure do hope he is. He deserves it.

Posted by amiga/trippiehippie at 2:49 PM CST
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Thursday, 6 May 2010
Oh the games of youth
Mood:  chillin'
Topic: Ponderings

In my youth, before I was a teenager, summer fun at my Uncle Albert's house always included two outdoor games: Freeze Tag, and Flashlight Hide & Seek. My cousins lived in Culver City and at their house they had neighbors on either side and across the street who were always willing to join us. Between, my cousins, Tara, Sheri, Adam and Kelly, and the three or four neighbor children, and myself, we had a nice large group to play games.

The games were simple. Someone was always IT, and that person ran around trying to catch the others. In Freeze Tag, when IT caught you, you had to freeze exactly where you were and hope someone else who was still free could tag you and defrost you. This was the most difficult version, since IT had to then freeze everyone. There of course were variations of this, such as, if IT caught you and you were frozen, IT got to count to ten and if you weren't defrosted by ten, then both of you became IT, and set off together to get the others. That was one variation, another was if IT counted to ten and you weren't defrosted by someone else you were defrosted automatically and then became the new IT. Regardless of the version, Freeze Tag had a well defined area of play, the front yard of my cousins' house, including their drive and the connected driveway of the neighbors to the West, from the brick flower boxes that defined the front porch to the street. You couldn't go further than that or you lost and were automatically IT.

Now, Flashlight High & Seek did not have a boundary, and the person who was IT had to keep their flashlight on all the time during the game. When IT found a hidden person, that person joined with IT to become a team. The Team IT then sought out everyone else to find the rest of the hiders. Team IT would grow until there was only one person left, and the last person found won. The second to last person to be caught was the new IT. This meant there was strategy in hiding. You were not allowed to move hiding places once the game started, and Team IT didn't have to tell you how many people were apart of it. You had to assume if someone was walking around with their flashlight on, they were IT. Occasionally, Team IT would split up, and send out one person with the flashlight on to ‘flush out' the hiders, tricking them to reveal themselves. This usually happened when there were only two hiders left.

Let's say you were hiding and you saw the flashlight. You cannot necessarily see who was holding the flashlight. If they were alone, you might come out of hiding and join Team IT so you won't be the second to the last one found and become the new solo IT. But, if they were tricking you, with all of Team IT hiding out of sight, and the "fake solo IT" coming around the corner by themselves and you pop out so as to be found to join the team, you could potentially walk into their trap and become the new solo IT. Yes, it happened often to me. My cousins new the best hiding places: behind the camper, in the garage next to the old beat up piano, under the deck setting near the Jacuzzi; it was very hard to find them. Occasionally, they'd head across the street and hide at Laurie and Timmy's house. Flashlight High & Seek never lasted very long though. We'd get two perhaps three IT swaps into playing and my parents would come out and say it was time to go home. Still, I'll never forget grabbing my flashlight before leaving home as standard equipment for going to visit my cousins on occasional Saturday nights in summer. Wink

Posted by amiga/trippiehippie at 6:26 AM CDT
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Wednesday, 5 May 2010
Growing Up
Mood:  sad
Topic: Ponderings

Growing up is not all that it is cracked up to be by any means. Looking back to the years of my youth, I couldn’t wait to grow up and be an adult. I can remember being in elementary school and figuring out that I would be 28 when the year 2000 came and it seemed so far away. Plans were made for what kind of wedding I was going to have, how many children I would have, what their names would be, all that jazz! Little girls do that, daydream about all the things they think are adult and special – grown up.


It wasn’t a happy event when I realized I was growing up. It was death. The first friend of mine to die was Mia Vandenheuvel. She wasn’t a super close friend like Emily, but I did consider her a friend. We had classes together in high school. We’d partied together. She and Chrissy celebrated my 15th birthday with me. She was a good person, a sweet girl, and her death was sudden, and made a tremendous impact on me.


We’d been out of school all of six months. I had come home from England to the total mess that was my mother’s life at the time and was between semesters waiting for the time to move into the dorms at CSUN, and waiting for Jack who was still in the army and stationed in Germany. I remember exactly the moment I learned of Mia’s death. The phone rang. I ran to get it in my mother’s bedroom on her Princess phone. It was Emily. She told me that Mia had died in a car accident; Erika and Brian had survived thank goodness, but from all accounts, Mia died while she was asleep in the back of Brian’s VW van and never knew what hit her.


I cried for two whole days. I was in shock. Mia couldn’t be dead! How could such an alive and youthful young woman be gone? I went to the funeral and sat near Nigel, and held Robin’s hand. She was nearly hysterical – she had known Mia all her life. I sat there in the mortuary chapel just stunned and unable to think what to say to her parents. I could hardly speak myself I was crying and sniffling, filling tissue after tissue.


What does someone say to parents who have lost their only child? How do parents deal with such as loss? These were questions I was not equipped to handle at this moment in time. I couldn’t focus on anything but the overwhelming sense that a tremendous inequity had occurred. No matter what I did or said, nothing would change. No amount of condolences or soothing words would ever fix this situation. This wasn’t a boo boo this was a life that had been snuffed out, and an emptiness Mia’s parents would deal with the rest of their lives.


Her casket was purple, Mia’s favorite color, and her portrait was there, and she looked as beautiful as always. It hit me; I’d never see Mia again. Class reunions would come and go and she’d never be there. I’d have all my plans for my wedding, and my children. What about Mia’s plans? She’d never get married and have children, or go to college, or – anything. Her time was over, at a time when he adult life had just begun.


This was the moment I truly realized I was growing up. I realized that plans like I had made were really pointless because your life could change in a moment totally beyond your control. Being grown up was having to deal with these sudden changes, no matter how painful or life changing. I’ve been an adult since January 1991, when I truly lost my innocence attending the funeral of my friend who didn’t deserve to die.

Posted by amiga/trippiehippie at 6:26 AM CDT
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Tuesday, 4 May 2010
Did you ever have a fort...filled with Barbie dolls?
Mood:  cheeky
Now Playing: Hog Wild Pit BBQ Commerical - run away!
Topic: Ponderings

One of the great memories I have from childhood was playing with my Barbie dolls. I know it sounds strange, especially if you know me now, that I played with Barbie dolls, but I did. Most of my Barbie dolls were hand-me-downs from my cousin Stacee. She's four years older than I am and so grew out of her Barbie doll age just when I was really coming into mine. I had a few dolls which weren't from Stacee - Donny & Marie, and Cher were mine, as well as a new Barbie that came in her satin dark pink spaghetti strap dress with pink and silver boa. I also had three of my mother's dolls - an original Barbie from 1959, an original Ken (with the plastic brown crew cut and zipper pants), and an original Midge with the flip hairdo.

Playing with them was made all the more fun by not having a Barbie house. Yes, that's right, by NOT having a Barbie Dream Mansion. I had to use my imagination and create a house for Barbie. I had furniture, but I didn't have a house, so I created one, actually I created many. Some people build forts outside up in a tree or something - not me. I built a fort in the house using the couch cushions, my blanket (yes, like Linus), and our encyclopedias in our front living room of our house on Hargis Ave. It was pretty much the same fort I built every time. Five large bottom couch cushions of the scratchiest 70's plaid material ever! I can't remember a time we didn't have those couches, and I remember that we got rid of them when my parents divorced, and we had to sell the house on Campbell Drive and move in 1986, so those couches moved from Newbury Park and all over LA before they were gone, and I had plenty of time to make forts out of their cushions - and boy did I.

My forts also incorporated the couches themselves and our round coffee table and the two seven foot tall bookcases. The Encyclopedia Britannica and some other set of encyclopedias  were my primary building blocks as they were all the same size, heavy, and relatively sturdy standing up on end. It was like a couch cushion fort and house of cards all in one - cards replaced by encyclopedias. I had to have a big place for my Barbie dolls because I had so many hand-me-downs. All in all, I had over 15 dolls, upwards of 20 - not all of them the blond Barbie. Many of them were different versions of Barbie, like Malibu Barbie, and of course her friends Skipper and others. This one doll had the top of her head, her scalp, on a swivel. When you spun her scalp around, one side of it was long blond hair, and the other side was dark brown hair. It was pretty cool, and pretty creepy.

Of course, if you've owned a Barbie, you've probably broken a Barbie. I had two with missing arms. These were the first Barbie dolls that had swiveling arms and waists. Well, being enthusiastic about making Barbie wave, I snapped her arm off. Oh, well, now with a broken arm, she became Punk Barbie. I cut and dyed her hair (dye being permanent marker). I used hairspray and scissors and my broken arm Barbie had a Mohawk tout suite.  Nothing like broken arm cripple Barbie becoming a punk, safety pins included. This Barbie didn't want to live in the couch pillow fort though, she insisted that mansions, even if they were made of books and couch pillows were too Bourgeoisie, thus, punk Barbie had her own ‘pad' in my Dad's super large boot size shoe box. Which of course she vandalized all over the walls with punk-like sayings, and spurned the couch pillow fort and the spoiled Barbie dolls within who lounged in green & pink furniture luxury. Of course, Donny, Marie and Cher all got their own place together so they could sing and ice skate in peace without all the Barbie and Punk Barbie drama. They had their own pillow fort on my bed, and it was super groovy since I had a psychedelic patchwork quilt as a bedspread - well, Cher liked it anyway. Laughing

Posted by amiga/trippiehippie at 6:22 AM CDT
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Monday, 3 May 2010
The Purple Club
Mood:  chatty
Topic: Ponderings

If you know me well, you know that I love purple. The color purple has always been powerful for me and I've loved every shade of purple since I was very young. The moment I moved out of my mother's house, away from the pink nightmare that was my room, I made everything purple and black that I owned.


In the 5th grade, I was attending Walgrove Ave elementary school and had Ms. Scott as my teacher. I didn't have any super close friendships in elementary school which I chalk up to a few things.


  1. I started at the school in 2nd grade rather than starting in Kindergarten because I attended Montessori School
  2. I didn't live in the immediate area of the school. My grandmother did, and my mother used my grandmother's address so I could go there rather than attending Shenandoah Elementary. At the time we lived on Hargis St. off of Robertson right near Hamilton High School, but my mother wanted me to go to Walgrove. So, I didn't get to play with anybody after school in the neighborhood around my elementary, and thus knew none of the children in the neighborhood where I lived.
  3. When I finally did make close friendships, my mother moved me to another school. Alison Banks and I were close in 2 and 3rd grade, but then I moved in the middle of 3rd grade to Braddock Elementary (which I hated). I was only there for like two or three months and then my mother put me back at Walgrove.
  4. I was different because I had special reading classes to address my dyslexia.


Anyway, there were a few people I liked and got along with and shared common interests with in elementary school. One of those who I bonded with was Tyeshaia Donaldson. She loved purple as much as I did. So, we made "The Purple Club". She said something to me about purple when I wore it in fourth grade for our class picture. I wore a purple turtle neck which I just loved to pieces. It was one of the only purple pieces of clothing my mother let me have. I remember it clearly. We were playing foursquare and it was rather warm, and I was wearing the purple turtleneck. I was getting hot and sweaty, and she asked me why I wore the turtleneck on such a hot day. I told her it was the only purple thing I owned and my mother let me pick my own clothing for the first time for a class picture. I immediately had chosen the purple turtleneck without a second thought it was going to be 80 degrees or more. Tyeshia had laughed and said she understood and that she loved purple that much too.


Well, Tyeshia and I started "The Purple Club" and we wore purple every Thursday in 5th grade. It was really cool to bond with someone, and I am sure we would have become closer if my mother didn't remove me from Walgrove and send me to Westminster Academy in the 6th grade. My mother wanted me to back to private school and had found Westminster for my 6th and 7th grade years. She also didn't want me to go to Mark Twain Jr. High, but to Marina del Rey Jr. High. It made for very broken relationships in my early years jumping around to all those schools.


Montessori - Kindergarten & 1st grade

Walgrove Elementary - 2nd & part of 3rd

Braddock Elementary - part of 3rd

Walgrove Elementary - 4th & 5th grade

Westminster Academy - 6th & 7th

Marina del Rey Jr. High - 8th & 9th

Venice High - 10th- 12th


Due to all these jumps in schools, I met a wide array of people, and really didn't bond with friends until 8th grade. Kim, Emily, Stacy, Chrissy, Lisa - these were my first close friends I bonded with at Marina. Still, I'll never forget Tyeshia Donaldson and "The Purple Club" we started together back in 5th grade. She'll always have a special place in my heart.

Posted by amiga/trippiehippie at 6:27 AM CDT
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Saturday, 14 February 2009
Who am I - really?
Mood:  mischievious
Now Playing: "Today" by Smashing Pumpkins
Topic: Ponderings

Well, there are sure are a lot of quizzes out there and for some reason I keep taking them. I am trying to define just who I am, and sometimes the quizzes are actually right, and surprising, they are dead on more often than not. The quizzes are running about a 95% rate I’d say! So, here goes, who am I? According to the quizzes I am: 

1)      A FULL BLOODED FEMINIST – and I would have to say very much so yes, I am. The quiz says, You believe in women's rights all the way and continue to be unhappy with the way things are right now and wish for more change. You are willing to take part in marches, boycotts and meetings that involve the amelioration of women's issues. You realize that society views feminists negatively but still are proud to call yourself one. You are appalled to see women who don't have a clue that "gender" is simply a term which the definition is 100% man made. If you feel a comment is sexist or makes you uncomfortable you speak up on it! You are always aiming to help others become aware of how much further women need to go and how society restricts them and predetermines their roles. You hate that feminists are so divided in themselves and believe that only if they are unified can they make a difference. We need more of you!”

2)    A TOTAL LEFT WING LIBERALCongratulations, you do not drink the Republican Kool-Aid. You haven't been brainwashed and are able to think for yourself rather than get your daily marching orders from the right-wing media. Mindless submission to our leader has no place in America. You, sir or ma'am, are a patriot.” Yes, that is what the quiz actually said. 

3)     I am defined by the movie “The Breakfast Club” and the musical “Labyrinth” which I have to admit, I totally agree with because I LOVE both of those wildly. 

4)    I am best suited to be a “White Mage” followed very closely by “Black Mage”, so what does that mean? I think it means that depending on the right situation, I could be your best friend or your worst nightmare, so don’t push it. 

5)     LITERATURE NERDDoes sitting by a nice cozy fire, with a cup of hot tea/chocolate, and a book you can read for hours even when your eyes grow red and dry and you look sort of scary sitting there with your insomniac appearance? Then you fit this category perfectly! You love the power of the written word and its eloquence; and you may like to read/write poetry or novels. You contribute to the smart people of today's society; however you can probably be overly-critical of works.”  Yes, that is what it said and I relate to it utterly.

6)     On the Personality Test I come out with this: Others see you as fresh, lively, charming, amusing, practical, and always interesting; someone who's constantly in the center of attention, but sufficiently well-balanced not to let it go to their head. They also see you as kind, considerate, and understanding; someone who'll always cheer them up and help them out.”  AND supposedly I am both Phoebe Buffet “Nutty and musical but loving and the point that you would birth your brother's triplets.”  And Buddha You are Buddha. You are a very peaceful person, you love all who love you. You are a cheerful personality, and you have a great sense of humor. Congratulations!! You are Buddha!!”  Well, I am definitely Buddha like in shape (LOL), but I don’t think I would ever birth my brother’s triplets – he has six kids already, isn’t that enough?

7)     My perfect Harry Potter mate is Remus Lupin, which makes total sense to me as my husband Matt is the spirit of the wolf and has been all his life. Duh, we had wolf wedding rings made, he is the only wolf on my ring and his ring has the four of us on it – our pack. No wonder my quiz said, You like a nice, quiet mate with a little wildness hidden away. A true gentleman, he will not take advantage, you will have to take the first step. Very loyal, but very shy, it will be hard to win him over, but once you have mated, it will be for life. It is so very true it is spooky

8)     AND, apparently I am the “Worldwide Freakshow Champ” which I do tend to agree with, and so do my co-workers and my truly close friends. You are beyond weird. People pay money just to see how weird you are. Stay away from weird and normal people. Remember they're contagious. Take advantage of how special you are.”

9)     AND apparently besides being all of the above, another quiz tells me, “I AM ASSERTIVE” – No, really?

You assert yourself whenever it's necessary, but you're always polite and appropriate about it. You're not a bully, a manipulator, or a nag. You just state what you need quickly and honestly. You've been assertive for so long that it just comes naturally to you. You're definitely not shy. People wonder why you get what you want in life. Well, it's because you ask for it!”

Seriously, I totally agree with #9 and boy has it gotten me into trouble, and helped define who I let be close to me or not. It certainly weeds out those people who can’t take having a woman in charge, yes, in charge, because I tend to be a leader and take over things when I see that stuff that needs to get taken care of immediately isn’t being done. I will try to allow others to lead, and if they are capable, I am more than willing to follow a competent leader.  I will not take the lead though if I am not being compensated for it somehow. I’d better be well paid and respected if you want me to lead, and those who follow better damn well know that I am in charge and hop to it because dissension in the ranks is a clear red flag on the heads of those who are asking to be fired and quickly. I don’t ask anyone to work any harder than I work. When I am in charge I give it my absolute all and toil mercilessly until the job is done. Those that can keep up and work right along side me, I reward lavishly. Those who can’t keep up with me, I try to encourage while I assess what they need and if they will ever be capable of rising to the level they need to be at. But, those who fail and show no hope of ever being able to keep up, I leave them for the sharks. It is better to weed out those that can’t keep up with my crew than have them pull everyone else down – especially in morale.

I’ve learned a lot over the years, and I know that I am demanding. I know that I used to be a terrible leader, unrelenting and not understanding at all. I've grown up a lot since then, taken management courses, read a lot of books on the subject matter, and have grown into the position better - now. 

I let everyone know that I expect the closest thing to perfect that can be achieved reasonably - that's what I aim at - why initally try for anything less than that? I say it straight out and because of that I am often called blunt or assertive. I say it as tactfully as I can, but I think everyone knows where they stand with me because I am up front and honest about just how hard I work to make things run smoothly, and how hard I expect them to work as well. I know, depending on the task at hand, I can be "The Energizer Bunny". I have also met a few people with much more energy than myself and actually tire me (*cough - my mother-in-law Debbie - cough*)

This is in my personal life as well as my professional life. Does it sound cruel, or is it really pragmatic? Honestly – wouldn’t you like to know where you stood with your boss at any given time, and be given real goals, and deadlines, as well as rewards that reflect your true worth?

10)  Finally – if I were food, yes, you heard me, food, what kind of food am I? Well, here goes: I AM LASAGNA! Yes, world, here it is, “Compared to most people, you are open- hearted and genuinely friendly. You go out of your way to make sure everyone is comfortable and happy. It's likely that you're a good cook, and you have a few signature crowd pleaser meals. You enjoy entertaining and welcoming guests into your home.”

Posted by amiga/trippiehippie at 9:19 AM CST
Updated: Saturday, 14 February 2009 9:37 AM CST
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