liriel of nothing important

Based on a true story. Some of you might have heard the story in a different emotional sauce, but I thought it would be nice for you, too, to hear this story again, this time, that way.

Once on a nice spring evening around midnight I took a walk back home from a party. And when I say nice, I mean it was really beautiful. You could see the bright stars in the velvet sky in spite of all the street lamps. The sleepy old wooden houses were cozily huddling together for warmth on the sides of the streets and cars were snoozing on their lots in front of the houses, waiting for their owners to wake.

And it was quiet, really quiet. There was no movement in sight, only an occasional small animal rustling through last autumn’s dried leaves or wind gently moving the branches of some towering tree. Somewhere in the distance, you could hear a late train hurrying with its load. And the tic-tac-toc of my high-heeled shoes.

Me, I was intoxicated with the beauty of the night, enjoying the loneliness in the city, the familiar streets in wholly different light. I was walking down a one-way street with two lanes, bordered with walking and bicycling roads. I walk on this street often - at daytime it is bustling with busy cars. But right now, in this quiet of the night, there were none, until, as I am a very law-abiding young lady, I was about to put one of my shoes onto the zebra crossing just before an intersection.

Instantly, as if to admire the way I cross the street, there appeared two cars, one behind the other. And even when they came, I could see that they were driven by very different personalities. The first one took things peacefully, taking his pleasure in the slow and steady movement, coming there for just the right time, the motor quietly purring, rolling to a graceful stop with the best view right before the zebra - showing off his steady and dependable mind. The guy on the wheel smiled kindly and gestured for me to begin my act. I gratefully smiled back and started it - crossing the road.

This was the first time I actually took notice of the other car. It was a bit late for my show - so it came with its motor roaring high, wheels turning as best they could, full of bravado, rush and anxiety. But in his eagerness the driver unluckily entered the scene on the wrong lane - on the lane where the first guy had already taken the place in the front row. The eager guy hastily pushed the brakes and got his car to a screeching stop right behind the first.

But of course, the calm guy was blocking the view from his privileged front-row place. I was already getting past the first car and - having had the delight of seeing me pass - the first one was already starting to leave. So it must have dawned on the latecomer, that he still has a chance, he can still get a place with the best view despite half the act being through. That best view being on the left lane, he just would have to drive there - I would have to pass before that lane as well. Then and only then would it be possible to watch me continue my crossing just like he wanted to - from the front row. At least without convincing me to repeat this one-time improvised performance.

So this he did. Quickly, eager to get into place before I pass, he turned to the other lane. There he got to a stop, wheels screeching in appreciation. And, having seen me in the center of that lane already, he begged me to stop and show him a bit more of it with a loud and clear signal from his hooter.

Oh, I was flattered of this attention. He was watching me with burning eyes, yelling something - probably compliments -, but I couldn’t hear him because the volume of his rhythmic music was so loud that his passionate pleas were lost in it. And this music, it was really active and energetic, which seemed so right for this eager and active guy. I was especially pleased with him for this contribution to that unusual silence of the night.

Nevertheless, I couldn’t just not notice all his attempts to get my attention. I had to give him something to remember from this encounter. I had to show him that I don’t mind his wee moment of lateness, his frantic moves to get the view. I had to show him my appreciation for all that he gave me just by being himself - the emotional screech of the brakes, the wild roar of the motor, the desperate actions to get the best view, the energetic music, the blazing eyes, the passionate words… I did smile even to the first guy, who wasn’t trying so hard to impress me, didn’t I?

So I struck an artful pose right there in the middle of the road - it must have been pretty good, because his eyes grew only bigger, the fire burning ever hotter. And in this pose I decided to show him one of the most beautiful, the most articulate, the most skillful and important parts of my body - the middle finger of my right hand.

Oh, how did his engine roar then! And the hooter was calling for me to do more! I could see his lips moving with even more passion, crying for more (but I still couldn’t hear it in this wild music). I could see that he was mine then, a mine ready to explode from joy, would I just show him more.

But I had strayed long enough and had to go on. I gave him a sad smile and the look over my shoulder and stepped up onto the sidewalk - ending this private public diva show.

Contented, he moved on as well. As he was driving away, I could hear his motor roar and the music beat long into the night - I think I will never forget it. I am not saying that this nice and peaceful guy isn’t worth remembering - he most certainly is and I thank him just as much for his kind smile and gesture, his graceful stop just in the front line, but that passionate fan of mine will always have a special place in my heart.

I found a new fun test site: http://www.oneplusyou.com/q. Here are two of my results:

87% Wired for Creativity

Created by OnePlusYou - a Free Dating Site

57% Geek

Created by OnePlusYou - Free Online Dating

Enjoy!

Lately I have discovered that I read differently, like different things about books. Looking back I see that there has been that same tendency from my childhood, but recently I have reached a definite turning point and find it hard to read some books I would have liked - or at least finished - before. I have even left some books unfinished - unheard-of behavior for me.

As I have written here before, I was a book-eater in childhood. Everything I could get my hands on, I read. I escaped chores and playmates to read. Hid myself behind the sofa or inside the hedge to have my privacy. And if I liked a book, I could read it over and over again, tens of times. I learned to forget enough of the storyline to have it interesting on each read. But what was the thing that brought me back to my particular favorites? The point behind the story. Oh, I did enjoy the storyline, shed tears with the heroes and heroines, but I never came back to books without a comprehensive point I could understand behind the story. So, I read the whole of Gone with the Wind series, but only once - though I was enraptured by the tale when I read it; I came back to several criminal stories - but only because the plots had some point besides (like having implications on what the adult world is really like - and I was just a child), but that wasn’t very often. My favorites, as I remember them, were mostly from Science Fiction world or real classics - though I have always had a hard time drawing a line between them.

When I grew up I was re-acquainted with the world of fantasy and science fiction on a different, more systematic level; and in school I had more classics to go thorough as well (though when I compare the books I had to read in school with other people I am always surprised in how many more they had to read, that I have not and feel sorry that I have not). For a while my horizons were much wider and I could enjoy books just for the storyline, just to experience the feelings again - the pain, the fun, the romance. But slowly I have grown out of liking to read a story for its own sake. Long series with long chapters in big books tire me, even if they’re funny. I just can’t wait to hear the next part of the puzzle - but they just hang around and fall in love or have fun or something. And I have other things to do besides reading, why couldn’t they just state their point?

In the last year I have read some books with great puzzles (to be discovered one piece at a time) or philosophies behind them (different series like Robin Hobb’s Farseer through Liveship to Tawny man; Dan Simmons’s Hyperion and Endymion; Orson Scott Card’s Ender series from Speaker for the Dead through Xenocide to Children of the Mind - Ender’s Game was read previously) and had really hard time with them. I was angry at them for disrupting my life as they did, I was angry for their bloatedness, the nitty-gritty irrelevant details and typical relationships in them. I respect those writers for their accomplishments, but I have found that I value my other life much more, the life I cannot have if I am submersed in a book. So, I got really afraid of all series or thick books and turned to short stories.

I had read some before, but this was the first time I really acknowledged how good they were for me and my life. If you read a short story, you get the concentrate of a book and you get it in a split time of reading a big book. You could read many short stories in one evening and still have enough time to sleep before the next working day. Or you can read one and really think of all its implications while going to sleep. Extracting the meaning is so much easier. You don’t have to read the insignificant parts about imaginary landscapes and small talk of nonexistent characters. These are brief enough in the short stories. Sure, there are boring short stories as well, or ones just wrong, but you get through them quickly and it doesn’t bother you to have spent this part of your precious time on reading it. It’s only sad that I can’t list them here as well, there’s just too many of them, but the collections I myself bought were Complete Robot by Asimov and Science Fiction The Best Of The Year 2006.

But once I realized that short stories are better for me, I could see that smaller books could be as well. I mentioned reading Sheckley in the post about my surgery - and he has grasped the right size for the books quite well. I also found Daniel Quinn for myself - something worth thinking about at least - I read two books in two nights and was not worse off at all (if I finish at 1:30, then I have 4,5 hours of sleep by morning and as it is 3*1,5h, which is the unit by which one should sleep, then I am quite well rested by morning). These serve well on making me think, yet don’t rob me of my precious time, which is divided between different important things already.

And only a few days ago I discovered that there are actually three unfinished thick books on my bookshelf. Each of these started but not read through, not taken in and analyzed as usual. OK, the Sheckley is in this list only because the book (which is collected works of Sheckley, a book I specially ordered from Amazon to let him know he has yet another fan) is too big to put into my smallish bag when I go somewhere. But Peter F. Hamilton (which I bought because of a recommendation in one of the short stories books) is bloated and too predictable to be interesting and Dan Simmons’s Ilium (which I bought because I did like the plot behind Hyperion series and hoped for something as good) suffers from the same disease that made reading Hyperion and its follow-ups so frustrating - though the emerging plot does seem to be interesting. When I read it, its interesting, but I can hear myself constantly thinking: “I don’t have time for this”.

And time, time is the point. It seems like I have finally grown up, I have finally taken the reins and started thinking about how I spend my time versus how I would like to spend it and what could I do to change it (there are always more things than you could think of!). And are those things that I list as me liking to do really things I want to do; or are those things I don’t like to do really not worth doing. It is complex and I should spend another post on how to spend and divide and plan your time, but I am most sure that reading just for fun is not on the list of things that I really really want to spend my time on. There has to be more to reading than fun. Escaping the world is not it. There can be results, changes, improvements coming from it. I can grow as a person because of it.

So here I promise - a promise my son would very much like for all the time it frees for him - I will not take on a thick book anymore (with the exception of a long holiday). I will prefer books and stories that are short and to the point. And when I encounter a book I don’t think will give me anything, I stop reading it. And when I finally get to writing that book I always wanted to write (or one of them rather), then I won’t bloat it and I won’t feel bad if it is thinner than could be or would feel proper.

***Aitäh kõigile, kes osalesid selles kingituses, millest allpool juttu tuleb!***
**Ettevaatust! Mõelge enne kui mingit kommentaari lisate/mulle edastate, karm koristus tuleb nende hulgas!**

Täna sain ma nimelt üle tüki aja käidud Reval Spordis, oma lemmiktreeneri lemmiktrennis (vastavalt siis Fjodor ja BodyCombat). Alustades algusest on Reval Sport jäänud minu klubiks eelkõige oma asukoha ja hinna tõttu - minul, ühistransporsdiga sõitval üksikul inimesel on kõige mõistlikum käia ju kohas, mis on keset linna ja odav. Aga seal on ka päris palju häid trenne. Hüpates esialgu treenerist üle - BodyCombatis käisin ma üks talv kaks korda nädalas ja see on trenn, mis tõesti võtab esimestest hetkedest higiseks ja hoiab pulsi tipus kuni lõpuni. Hea kui lõpuni üldse vastu pead! Kui ma peale haigust käisin, siis pidin poole pealt ära minema, sest pea hakkas ringi käima… Rääkimata sellest, et selle rütmika muusika taustal on hea oma viha ja frustratsiooni hea välja elada. Ja lüüa, lüüa, lüüa - ise tead, keda sinna ette kujutad. Ja see energilisus - nüüd jõuame treeneri juurde - noor mees kargab seal ees, ergutab, vilistab - ja teda vaadates nakatud ise ka sellesse ja ei märkagi, et lihased juba ei jaksa, hingamine on juba väga hingeldamise moodi ja vaevu suudad kombinatsiooni jälgida. Kokkuvõttes - trenn on korralik ja mõnus (kuigi võrreldes aastatetaguse ajaga oli tempo ühtlasem, pausid väiksemad - ei jõudnud juuagi - ja juhendamine vähesem, aga õnneks ei vajanud ma seda ka niivõrd - need siis tänase trenni miinused).

Nüüd hüppan ma kolmapäeva, 30. aprilli, õhtusse. Mul käisid külas töökaaslased ja endised töökaaslased (oh, keda ma petan, keegi muu ju seda siin kunagi ei loegi - niiet teate kõik niigi, mis siis toimus) osaliselt selle puhul, et ma vannitoa korda tegin. Ja kuigi ma ise ei osanud arvatagi, et keegi võiks mõeldagi sellele, et midagi muud kui oma jook kaasa võtta, pidid nad loomulikult mulle ikkagi kingituse tegema. Tõesti poleks pidanud. Aga nad tegid ja ma ei saa muudmoodi kui olen selle üle rõõmus, sest see oli täiesti ideaalne kingitus, just nii nagu ma ikka tahan teha - asi, mis iseenesest huvitab, aga mille ostmise peale ise ei tuleks kunagi. Kingiti mulle terve posu käsitsi tehtud kosmeetikatooteid firmalt Lush, eelkõige vannis kasutamiseks. Ma küll ostsin ühe esimese asjana vannivahu kui ma oma vannitoa kasutamiseks kätte sain, aga mitte midagi nii erilist nagu selles karbis oli. Seal oli eri lõhnadega, eri nimetustega, eri värvidega, eri kasutusaladega…

Selleks hetkeks olin ma siis higine, väsinud ja ei suutnud oodata, millal ma lõpuks ometi pikali saan. Aga teha oli veel üks oluline asi - muusika. Vahel on juba täiesti võimatu on valida, millist neist stiilidest ja millist ühe stiili sees kuulata tahad. Eriti kui oled, nagu ma olin, higine, väsinud ja ei suuda oodata, et juba pikali saaks. Lisaks oli mul just hiljuti - viitan ikka sellelesamale kolmapäeva õhtule - olnud kummaline kogemus, kuidas minu muusikavalikut peeti esiteks masendavaks ja teiseks uniseks (eri esitajaid), lisaks naerdi ühe minu ammuse lemmiku üle, kelle nime kohe ekstra ei nimeta praegu siin. Absoluutselt kummaline, kuidas erinevad inimesed tajuvad sama muusikat nii erinevalt. Oli ennegi arvatud, et ma kuulan masendavat muusikat, aga sellesse olin pigem irooniliselt suhtunud, aga nüüd… Ok, ma läksin teemast kõrvale. Tegelikult olin ma ju nüüd üksi ja ei hoolinud üldse, mida keegi teine võiks sellest muusikavalikust arvata, mis ma iganes otsustan valida. Aga pidin seda mainima, sest see oli selline väike ärritus mul eelnevalt sees ja seega näris mind ka kahtlus, et milline see minu muusika siis on, mis mul siin üldse on. Niiet tegin seda, mida ma pole ammu teinud - panin kõik oma kõvakettal oleva muusika playlisti ja need suvalises järjekorras mängima. See oli ka kõige kiirem valik, väsinud ja kiirustav nagu ma olin.

Ja siis, lõpuks! Panin endale veel valmis mõned vannis pesemiseks mõeldud asjad ja läksin sisse. Vesi nägi küll välja kahtlane - piimjas ja üksikud taimetükid sees hõljumas - aga ta oli pehmem kui ma ühtki vett olen kunagi kogenud. Selles vees niisamagi olemine oli nauding omaette. Aga loomulikult panin ma kohe ka mullid tööle. Valutavatele lihastele ei ole midagi mõnusamat kui üks soe massaaž ja kuna mul massööri, isegi algajat, käepärast võtta ei ole siis on mullivann mullitamas parim variant. Keerad ennast tagurpidi vanni ja lükkad seljamassaaži käima ja lased jalataldadel mõnuleda. Või suunad surve küljelüüžidesse ja kogu ülejäänud keha lihased ja liigesed, kuklast varvasteni, on korraga masseerimisel. Liigutad ennast, liigutad lüüže, sätid neid erinevasse suunda laskma - niiet lõpuks on kogu keha mõnusalt läbi hõõrutud. Ja see ei ole terav hõõrumine loomulikult, ikka pehmeim, mida üldse on võimalik saavutada - eriti kui vannis on selline õline vesi nagu selle vannisulaga tekkis.

Ja kogu selle aja - korduva vahutekitamise ja siis jälle sellest lahtisaamise, mullitamise ja niisama vedelemise nautimise aja - tulid ainult mõnusad lood taustaks, nii väga kui ma ka kartsin mõnda ebameeldivat üllatust, mis sunniks mind kaaluma, kumb rikub mu vannikogemust rohkem - kas vannist väljaminek ja pala vahetus või selle loo lõpuni kuulamine. Tuli lugusid, mida ma ei mäletanudki, et mul on. Jazzist klassikani ja tagasi metallini välja. Vahepeal sattus isegi üks jõululaul, millele ma kõvasti ja ilmselt valesti kaasa laulsin. Ma mõtlesin küll vahepeal, mis lugusid kõik võiks juhtuda - aga nad ei juhtunud ja ma olin seal vannis üliõnnelik. Juba sel ajal ma mängisin mõttega, et ma kirjutan sellest kogemusest - mis tegelikult on täiesti tähtsusetu igapäevarõõm, aga sobib seega ka ideaalselt minu “nothing important” sildi alla - siia blogisse, ja mitte lühikese jutu. See mõte tegi juba iseenesest tegi mind seal õnnelikumaks. Oleks mul läpakas, mida saaks võtta vanni kaasa, siis ma oleks võtnudki ja hoolimata sellest, et vannituppa wifi ei ulatu (nagu MDW nii eredalt kolmapäeval demonstreeris), selle posti sealsamas vannis valmis kirjutanud. Oleks ilmselt tulnud detailsem ja tõesem, sest see kogemus, mida ma praegu üles kirjutan, oli tol ajal veel reaalsus ega tahtnud uute kogemuste sisse ära kaduda. Oojaa, praegu tekivad juba uued kogemused…

Niisiis, mõnulesin, kogu oma naha ja karvadega. Aga vannis tehakse muud ka peale mõnulemise, vähemalt vanasti mõeldi ta selleks välja - tänapäeva inimesed armastavad miskipärast dušši all käimist rohkem. Aga loomulikult pestakse. Ja ma olin enne ka käepärast võtnud mõned asjad sealtsamast karbist, milles see suurepärane vannisula oli. Esiteks oli keha koorija. Küll mõeldud dušši all kasutamiseks, aga vannis saab ju ka. Võtsin lahti - ta oli süsimust. Hirmutas. Aga sellest hoolimata hõõrusin sellega oma jalgu - ja nad muutusid siniseks. Nähtavasti oli tegemist mustikatest või millestki taolisest tehtud koorijaga, seemned veel koorimiseks sees. Samas oli ka see mõnusalt pehme, mida ma tol hetkel tema plussiks pidasin (kuigi ma vahel tahan just, et kooria oleks piisavalt kare), kuid kahjuks sulas ta mu käes liiga kiiresti - kohe kahju hakkas, et ta seega nii kiiresti otsa saab. Hõõrusin sellega ka oma ülejäänud keha - ka nägu. Ilmselt nägin ma tol hetkel päris naljakas välja, aga õnneks või kahjuks ei paista peeglist vaatama kui oled vannis ja seega saan ma ainult arvata. Kusjuures vannituba plaanides ma isegi kaalusin lae tegemist peegeldavast materjalist, et mingi aimdus oleks pidevalt olemas ka vannis käies, aga kartsin, et konservatiivsemad inimesed, kes võivad ka tahta seal käia näiteks sellel ettekäändel, et nad on mu lähimad sugulased, võiksid sellele halvasti vaadata. Nii palju hoolin ma nende arvamusest näete!

Being alone at work can be frustrating after a party spent being silent. And so I went and confirmed the type of person I am. Yet again. True, true, true! These are the things I feel constantly. Could I ever change?

The agreeable nature and quiet personality of INFJs makes them particularly vulnerable to hurt feelings. Distress within close relationships can shatter the INFJ. Like all NFs under stress, INFJs feel fragmented and lost — as if they are acting out a part rather than simply being themselves. This disassociation can be related to physical symptoms for the INFJ, whether real or imagined. Feeling split off from their physical natures, INFJs may become virtually immobilized by repressed feelings.

Although INFJs may feel like remaining still and stationary until the chaos and confusion of a stressful situation dissipates, it would be best for them to actively sort out their needs from others. Being excessively cooperative and agreeable, the INFJ has a tendency to adopt values and beliefs of others as their own. When external conflicts grow, so does the INFJ’s sense of personal disharmony. Disassociating themselves from others takes a great deal of effort for the INFJ.

Careers

This lists represent careers and jobs people of your type tend to enjoy doing. The job requirements are similar to the personality tendencies of your personality type. It is important to remember that this is not a list of all the jobs possible. And it is very important to remember that people can, and frequently do, fill jobs that are dissimilar to their personality… this happens all the time…and sometimes works out quite well.

career counselor
psychologist
educational consultant
special education teacher
librarian
artist
playwright
novelist/poet
editor/art director
information-graphics…designer
HRM manager
merchandise planner
environmental lawyer
marketer
job analyst
mental health counselor
dietitian/nutritionist
research
educational consultant
architects
interpreter/translator

Discover your personality type