Myers-Briggs Re-visited

A few years ago, when just starting this blog, I wrote about my own Myers-Briggs personality type: INFJ. (It also appears to be when Joy, from Babble On first discovered my blog -- but I digress.)

Over the intervening years, I've noticed that the pomegranate tiger gets quite a few hits via Google searches through that particular page.

Today, having nothing better to do, I was looking at my site statistics and noticed yet another hit on that page. I tracked the link back through Google search and saw The Real Personality Types which states, "Now, there are many places which will tell you what this all means, but none of them are quite as...relevant to today's modern civilization as this one..." it then goes on to describe the various personality types, "made relevant" to the modern world. Hilarious.

Here's an updated description of my INFJ personality:

INFJ: The Conspiracy Theorist

Beneath the calm, collected exterior of the INFJ lies the horrible reality of someone who has seen The Truth. The INFJ knows what other people are too naive or too brainwasted to admit: the Conspiracy is real. Mistrustful and suspicious, the INFJ is not easily fooled, and does not take the word of the government-controlled medico-military-industrial complex for anything. Whether it's uncovering the plot by butter-eating Jews to clog the arteries of Christian folk with artificial margarine or discovering the secret laboratory in Tibet that's producing legions of Jimmy Carter clones that will be sent out to seize the manufacturing facilities in the Guangdong Province of China under the pretext of inspecting chickens for influenza, there is no lengths the INFJ won't go to in order to blow the lid off the whole thing.

INFJs can often be found holding down jobs as AM radio talk-show hosts. They can also be found driving taxis in the greater Washington, DC area. Other common jobs often held by INFJs include vagrant, loony, whacko, and writer/director/producer of the television show "Seinfeld." INFJs can also be found feeding that crucial bit of information to determined FBI agents just before they are brutally murdered.

RECREATION: INFJs often come home from a hard day's work exposing conspiracies about how the government is poisoning us with mind-control agents spread by passenger airliners and unwind by spending all night writing Web sites exposing conspiracies about how NASA faked the Bush election.

COMPATIBILITY: INFJs are usually happiest and most successful in relationships with Julia Roberts, though the relationships may not end happily.

Famous INFJs include...well, if I told you, I'd have to kill you.

I always knew there was something fishy about that moon landing . . .

My first award

Kay from Kay's Thinking Cap was kind enough to give me this Van Goh's Ear Award:

I rather like the notion of Van Goh's Ear -- the whole slightly mad, creative artist thing. Although in my case, I think of the Madwoman of Chaillot.

According to the originator of the award at the Idaho Photo blog:

We are all artists in are own way be it art, photography, writing, philosophy, comedy, blogging and we all go a little crazy sometimes. But if you ever feel so crazy to cut off your ear and give it to a prostitute "Seek Help"!

So, many thanks to Kay, one of my two followers. :D

P is for Procrastination

I am the queen of procrastinators. I can procrastinate with the best of them. I could be a professional procrastinator.

From outward appearance, I don't look like a procrastinator. Most people think I am very organized, detail and goal-oriented – accomplishing what I plan - and a glutton for hard work. The thing is, I fool people.

Whereas it's true that I am organized, detail-oriented, et cetera, like the true procrastinator that I am, I leave everything to the last minute. My endless list-making - which makes me appear as though I'm doing something - is, in fact, one of the keys to my procrastination.

Here is my sad and sorry saga:

• Open an Excel spreadsheet
  
• Make a list of things to do (master list)
  
• Make sub-lists that detail how I will accomplish the master list
  
• Go online and research the things I need to do
  
• Bookmark sites I think are useful
  
• Take a few detours online via Wikipedia and embedded links from said sites
  
• Make a list of the sites I have found online
  
• Cut and paste relevant information onto new document, save and print for future reference
  
• Re-check original lists and amend according to information found online
  
• Print out above lists

You'll notice that I haven't actually accomplished anything at this point, but it looks like I've been very busy.

• While on the computer anyway, play a game (or two or twenty) of Spider Solitaire; be ready to hit screensaver mode in case somebody happens to walk by and think I'm just goofing off.
  
• Take a look at my favourite web forums
  
• Check email
  
• Take the above printed lists and, with highlighter pen in hand (I like the yellow, but sometimes use fluorescent pink for variety), underline things I want to do first. – i.e. prioritize the to-do lists.

At this point, I will finish one (maybe two) of the tasks.

• Using pen and ruler, cross out task(s)

This helps me stay somewhat focused and gives me the illusion of accomplishment.

• Go back onto computer and do same with computer copy (i.e. highlight and cross out)
  
• Print another copy
  
• Re-read the lists and amend as necessary
  
• Repeat from "While on the computer anyway"

I repeat the above until two days before things MUST be done and I realize I've only accomplished about one-half of my to-do list (the master one). I then rush around like a mad-woman in order to finish the to-do items without once looking at the lists again because, by then, I have them embedded into the hard drive of my brain.


This is another Encylopedia of Me post.

What's so funny?

“Look at those bear feet! They’re bare!”

He's looking at me like I'm nuts. He doesn't get it. Not even a groan. He really doesn't get it. Maybe he'll never get it – my weird, off the wall, blurtings - what I think is funny.

But he's so nice! Nice guys don’t come around all that often; or if they do, the rest of the package ain’t so hot - the package with wife and two kids.

Let's see. He's kind. He's a gentleman. He's gainfully employed. He's single. But - and it's a big but - he has no sense of humour. At least not my kind of humour. I like to laugh. I need to laugh. What if we could never laugh together? What kind of relationship would that be?

Don't get me wrong, I don't spend my life thinking everything is full of yuks. I also happen to be a pretty big cry-baby. I cry over practically anything that moves me.

Now, that's another thing, he never knows what to do when I cry at a movie. He'll mumble an uncomfortable, are you okay, without looking me in the eye or ask in bewilderment, you think that's sad; what's sad about it? It doesn't seem to matter that I've told him it's just the way I am and there's nothing he can do, except maybe hand me a tissue.

No sense of humour. No empathy. This is doomed!

"Wait, that was a pun wasn't it? I get it. Bear feet. Bare feet. You're very funny, you know that?"



The First 50 Words of this began here.

Smile for the day

Found the following on Dancing For Beginners and just had to share:

Bathroom Sign
In the men's room at work, the Boss had placed a sign directly above the sink. It had a single word on it -- "Think!"

The next day, when he went to the men's room, he looked at the sign and right below, immediately above the soap dispenser, someone had carefully lettered another sign which read -- "Thoap!"

- author unknown

AND in the gents toilet at a small bistro:

"We aim to please you ... will you aim to please us?"

Waking up

I woke up to a glorious day. The room was so bright, I thought I'd slept in. It was only 7:30; birds chirping, the sound of dh's shower running in the background. It felt like the first day of spring.

I was grinning before my feet hit floor, and I was singing, "Life is just a bowl of cherries . . ." by the time I got to the bathroom. Yup, I know - I'm just too cheerful for my own good. Not that I'm always cheerful, but I'm one of those disgusting people who wake up in a good mood.

Maybe subconsciously, I'm just happy to wake up at all and not to have succumbed to some mysterious ailment overnight - with news articles and headline reading:

"Famous blogger found dead in bed - cause unknown - autopsy report pending."

Ell, best known for her scintillating and popular blog, the pomegranate tiger, was found dead this morning by her housekeeper. Ms Yan suspected something might be wrong when Ell wasn't up by 9 a.m. She knocked on the bedroom door, and entered when there was no answer. "At first, I thought she was sleeping. She looked so peaceful. But then I saw how pale she was. I touched her hand - and I knew. She was icy cold."

She was pronounced dead at the scene by attending paramedics. By all accounts, Ell was active for her age and had been in good health. Foul play is not suspected.

See, I can be morbid.

It's funny about the waking up thing, though - how some people wake up in a good mood and others grumpy? My older son is more like me. He wakes up happy and, more often than not, is humming while brushing his teeth.

My younger son is the opposite. If you speak to him before he's ready, he'll start an argument just for the sake of arguing. He's the proverbial, 'Good morning. What's so good about it!!' guy. We give him a wide berth until he comes 'round. He's rather like a bear coming out of hibernation. Everyone keeps a respectful distance while he waters and feeds himself. We wait for him to make the first overtures of civility.

He's been like this since he was a toddler. No one ever wanted to get him up from his nap or wake him in the morning. We'd go through a ritual of, "no, you go": - You get him. - No, you go. - No, I got him last time. You go. - If I get him this time, you go next time. - Hey, let's get D to get him! We've spoken to him about his morning surliness, but he completely denies it. According to him, he's just misuderstood. Heaven help any future wife or roommate.

The strange thing is that once he's up and going, he's the most mild-mannered, even-tempered guy in the world. I guess he just needs to get the nastiness out of his system first thing in the morning.