Author: Michelle

The other night, way too late, after quite a few adult beverages, RAJ was telling me a story about the Oregon Country Fair. At one point, he said:

“If you can’t trust the Kesey crowd, Jolin, who can you trust?”

Who indeed.

Does that need to be interpreted?

I guess since some of you might not have the Lane County understanding of what the Kesey crowd might be experts in aside from yogurt.

What he meant was that sometimes people are experts and anyone would acknowledge that. For instance, if Tony Dungy told me something about football I would believe him. Most anyone would. If Warren Buffet gave me advice about money, I’d listen closely.

In this case, he asked for a Kesey crowd recommendation and then didn’t follow it. With hilarious and predictable results. If you can use the word predictable about the kind of stuff the Kesey crowd would be giving advice about at the Oregon Country Fair.

If you are at the OCF, or on a bus with a fridge full of acid-laced Kool-Aid and someone from the Kesey crowd gives you advice?
Take it.

Things will go better for you.

Have I ever confessed my deep love for taking personality tests? Does that mean I’m overly analytical? Should I think about it some more?

The other day, I took an online verson of that Jungian inspired personality test that spits out the incomprehensible letters that determine who you are. Myers-Briggs.

I have taken Myers-Briggs many times.

What I am, usually, is an INFJ. Heavy on the introversion. Moderate on the intuition vs sensing and feeling vs thinking. Marginal preference for judging over perceiving Sometimes I’m an INTJ with a heavier accent on judging.

What’s that mean? Hell if I know.

The Internet says it means that I am complicated, think feelings are more important than logic and like to think about pretty much everything and make things better. It means I’m more creative than rule following and have a tendency to zone out and stare at clouds a lot. It didn’t say anything about being a pain in the ass. Huh.

It is, apparently, the rarest of personality types. So be thankful for that.
What?

Aren’t you all sitting around overthinking everything you feel?
Wull. I am.

It’s my nature. I can’t help it. According to one web site, it means I can feel it when people lie to me and it makes me difficult to love because I am sensitive and over-analytical. It also says I give great blow jobs and think the scrotum should be treated with respect. Good to know.

Here’s the problem when taking personality tests: I have a lot of trouble with the ones that talk about things I am good at vs things I actually like to do. This will sound immodest, but it’s true: I am good at a lot of things. Many of which I don’t particularly enjoy.

I am.

Math? Hate it. Not bad at it.
Managing money? Hate it, but I’m good at it.
Getting to work on time? Hate it, good at it.
I do approach problem solving at work very methodically and rationally. In my personal life not so much.

Maybe what I need are different tests for my work and personal lives.

I am a total flake masquerading as a responsible adult. I love writing, reading, knitting weird hats, daydreaming, and wandering around aimlessly either by foot or in a car. Oh, and being supine. If being supine could be a hobby, I would put it on my resume. Which, let me tell you, is the resume of a responsible adult with technical skills. Not the resume of someone who knits skull hats for babies and writes about Ewan McGregor’s penis on the Internet. Except that obviously both are true.

So introverted, yeah. I always score off the charts in introversion. I know I am willing to share pretty much anything in writing. If you put me in a party with a bunch of people I don’t know really well? I will be in the corner breathing into a paper bag. Metaphorically. I would totally stand there politely with a cocktail and look interested in whatever other people were saying. Then I would go home and have to be in social isolation for several days to recover.

On the score for Intuition vs Sensing, mostly I skew to the intuitive side, but the degree varies. I am, it is true, a little impulsive.

In Thinking vs Feeling I am all over the place in my scores. It must really depend on my mood. I like to think I am completely rational, but there is no denying that I am a big cryer which is a marker for feeling. (No score for pointing out the obvious?) If it is indicative of anything, when I went out to get the mail the other day, the mail carrier was still parked in front of the house. Normally, I’d throw the one ad that was in the mailbox straight into the recycling bin outside. Since he was still sitting there, I brought it in the house and recycled it there so I wouldn’t hurt his feelings. Yes, I am perfectly aware that the mail carrier does not care one little bit about what I do with my mail. Still. In the house.

Judging vs Perceiving? I always skew to the Judging side, but sometimes just barely.

It could be that I am just a weirdo. I’m cool with that.

I’ll take another test to find out.

I did take a test the other day that was unable to determine if I was mentally ill. I clocked in at “ambiguous personality.” Should I be concerned? Of course one of the questions was “do you wish you was a Superman to wishes you can help the world?” and I really was not sure how to answer. Mainly I wishes I can correct the grammars.

I also had a very high score I that Purity Test that everyone was required to take back in the 90’s.

Oh, by the way, Myers-Briggs doesn’t really score for blow jobs or scrotal respect. It’s a bit of a flaw.

I started to watch a movie several years ago called “the Pillow Book.” In the movie, a Japanese woman has a bit of a calligraphy fetish, and wants her lovers to write on her body. Eventually, she meets the character played by Ewan McGregor and thinks he’s great in bed, but has terrible handwriting. He suggests that she teach him to write better. She tosses him out, but eventually becomes his lover again. I could never get through it, it was very slow moving and more than a little convoluted, but I did watch enough to learn that Ewan McGregor is packing some serious genital heat (which would be an awesome band name)

I’m sure you can Google around and find pictures of him. Or, let me Google that for you.

Anyway. Ewan McGregor’s dick is not really what I wanted to write about, even though it is admirable. For a dick. It was the idea of writing on someone’s body that made me think of the movie, and then I was distracted by the dick. It happens to the best of us at times. Dick is like that.

Tattoos are the writing on my body.
Songs, lovers, books feel like they’re engraved on my heart somehow.
I feel like a lot of things are written on my heart/mind, but they can’t literally be.

I’d love to be able to write
The things engraved on my heart
on someone’s body
With a zen brush
Or indelible ink
Depending on the thought
and the lover
and what I had to say.
Permanent like a tattoo,
or fading away
as soon as the ink is dry.

It would be nice if some of the more painful stuff written on our hearts would fade as quickly and cleanly as zen brush calligraphy.