I have, unfortunately, sunk to a new low. Facebook--despite the fact that I really have nothing good to say about Facebook--has, along with Quizony.com, sucked me into their web of silly questions that promise to confirm for me exactly who and what I am...something, as you know, I have been trying to figure out for years. A few days ago, it was color. I turned out to be a Yellow which means I am a bit cautious, but I can be convinced to take advantage of the right opportunities to break out of my mold. And (just to add a bit of dash and excitement to that bland analysis) I'm assured that "just when my friends think I am very predictable, I will surprise them." Surprise!!
This morning, BC, having left early for a fishing trip, meant our house was unnaturally quiet and the shades were still drawn. I looked around, then checked into Facebook. There it was, tucked quietly between a really nice photo of our grand-dog and his kitty friend and the "Best kept weight-loss secret ever," reminding me of the serpent coiled around the tree whispering to Eve. In my case asking, "What Animal are You?" Really, I mean who cares, but then, it might be interesting to know. It could be a breakthrough.
And, just like Eve, I weakened. I studied the first question: "How fit are you?" Not too bad, thank you for asking. I moved onto the next: "Which of these appeals to you most?" Holy Cow! Those choices are not designed for an older woman. "How would you prefer to travel?" You can be sure it's not by "aeroplane." And on and on and on. "What's a man's role when it comes to children?" Oh, those were great answers but, just in case someone was hacking in, I couldn't bring myself to choose the one I really wanted. Finally--drum roll--I answered #10. It was time to unveil my future. And, the answer? A Beaver. A Beaver?!? Why would they even include a Beaver in this test.
I suppose, in an effort to make a Beaver feel better about being a Beaver, Quizony describes them as Creative, Practical, Well Organized, and occasionally known to break out of their routine. I guess that should make me feel a little better because I'd always thought Beavers were simply large rodents who swam well but were mean as dirt. Apparently, I underestimated them.
Monday, April 7, 2014
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
AND I WOULD BE A...
Last week, as I was getting ready for the day and listening to NPR, I was stopped by the factoid that in today's job interview one is often asked what color of crayon one would be. "Margie, what color of crayon are you?" Fortunately, I am not in the job market because that is exactly the kind of question that brings me to my knees in a pool of sweat and indecisiveness. I hate specific questions which require quick answers, or worse--an opinion.
But, as I made the bed, I decided to play pretend and answer the question. "If I were a crayon I would be a..." I begin to think: "I'm a responsible self-starter, efficient, effective and worth much more than any employer would probably pay me. I'm a black crayon. Definitely a no nonsense, nose to the grindstone sort of person. Oh, but maybe choosing black would mean that you would think I'm locked tightly in a narrow box, unable to think outside of it. You might not realize that my solutions to various problems can be quite creative and always well thought out. So, I think I might actually be a blue crayon. Yes, blue...bright blue."
"Oh dear, I don't want you to think, though, that I'm one of those kind of creatives. You know, the crazy kind. No, no. I would be a really nice. responsible, and helpful creative. Please, let's just take a minute here. Could you possibly tell me how many crayons I have to work with? A box of 72 or only 48? Is this a new box that might have newer colors or names? Is it one of those fat crayon boxes that only has six or so primary colors? Do they still make fat crayons?"
By the time I finished making the bed, I had pretended myself right out the door of that imaginary job interview and still didn't have a clue as to what color I thought I was or wanted to be.
Suddenly, I'm back in my freshman year at St. Mary of the Plains High School. St. Mary's opened as a boarding school for out-of-town girls as well as a day school for those of us from Dodge City. The first day of class I met Pam. I have no idea now what her last name was, but Pam was a boarder from Oklahoma, spoke with a bit of an Okie accent (which I thought was exotic), and wrote all of her papers using a fountain pen filled with Peacock Blue ink. I think it was my first girl crush. Pam was pretty, solidly packed, spoke with a rather raspy voice, and was fearless when it came to the nuns. It never occurred to me at the time that Pam may have been sent to St. Mary of the Plains High School for a reason, and that she would be a relative short-timer there. I was too impressed to think beyond the moment.
I know that I began begging for a pen and Peacock Blue ink as soon as I got home that afternoon and actually wheedled my way into both items within a day or two...just in time for the nuns to announce that they would only accept papers written in the standard blue or black ink. All other colors were forbidden and would result in an "F". Those women, quite frankly, had no sense of the joy Peacock Blue ink could bring to the soul.
So--back to the original question: What color am I? I am a Yellow. Yes, yellow. I know that because I took a short test on Facebook a couple of days ago and it said I was a Yellow--although, frankly, I wouldn't have chosen any of those restaurants.
But, as I made the bed, I decided to play pretend and answer the question. "If I were a crayon I would be a..." I begin to think: "I'm a responsible self-starter, efficient, effective and worth much more than any employer would probably pay me. I'm a black crayon. Definitely a no nonsense, nose to the grindstone sort of person. Oh, but maybe choosing black would mean that you would think I'm locked tightly in a narrow box, unable to think outside of it. You might not realize that my solutions to various problems can be quite creative and always well thought out. So, I think I might actually be a blue crayon. Yes, blue...bright blue."
"Oh dear, I don't want you to think, though, that I'm one of those kind of creatives. You know, the crazy kind. No, no. I would be a really nice. responsible, and helpful creative. Please, let's just take a minute here. Could you possibly tell me how many crayons I have to work with? A box of 72 or only 48? Is this a new box that might have newer colors or names? Is it one of those fat crayon boxes that only has six or so primary colors? Do they still make fat crayons?"
By the time I finished making the bed, I had pretended myself right out the door of that imaginary job interview and still didn't have a clue as to what color I thought I was or wanted to be.
Suddenly, I'm back in my freshman year at St. Mary of the Plains High School. St. Mary's opened as a boarding school for out-of-town girls as well as a day school for those of us from Dodge City. The first day of class I met Pam. I have no idea now what her last name was, but Pam was a boarder from Oklahoma, spoke with a bit of an Okie accent (which I thought was exotic), and wrote all of her papers using a fountain pen filled with Peacock Blue ink. I think it was my first girl crush. Pam was pretty, solidly packed, spoke with a rather raspy voice, and was fearless when it came to the nuns. It never occurred to me at the time that Pam may have been sent to St. Mary of the Plains High School for a reason, and that she would be a relative short-timer there. I was too impressed to think beyond the moment.
I know that I began begging for a pen and Peacock Blue ink as soon as I got home that afternoon and actually wheedled my way into both items within a day or two...just in time for the nuns to announce that they would only accept papers written in the standard blue or black ink. All other colors were forbidden and would result in an "F". Those women, quite frankly, had no sense of the joy Peacock Blue ink could bring to the soul.
So--back to the original question: What color am I? I am a Yellow. Yes, yellow. I know that because I took a short test on Facebook a couple of days ago and it said I was a Yellow--although, frankly, I wouldn't have chosen any of those restaurants.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)