Sunday, October 31, 2010

I made my characters take the MBTI

(There might be a post about the acwawum soon, but right now there's this.)

Main Male Character #1 came out as INTJ.

Main Male Character #2 came out as ENFP.

Main Female Character came out as ESTJ.

Secondary Female Character came out as ISFJ.

I really think MMC1 is actually INTP, though. He is a very organized person, but he tells me that that's out of necessity. If he doesn't leave himself time to arrive at appointments really early or if he doesn't make a schedule for his workday, life instantly descends into Chaos and he can't get anything done. But he has never really been a "Ten-Year Plan" kind of guy. For instance, he has a thing for SFC, but he thinks that pursing her would be a bad idea for reasons I won't go into here. When he becomes convinced that it is actually a good idea, he basically shows up one day and says "Hi, I love you, will you marry me?" And SFC, being a J, will probably flip out a little bit, but I'm not sure because I haven't rewritten that part yet.

Him being an INTP would also explain why I'm secretly in love with him (only not so secretly, because Mari could tell and now I'm telling all of you), because the one time I forced Scott to take the MBTI he came out as an INTP.

(I'm INTJ.)

Also, MMC2 and MFC are dating and will marry before the book is out. They have the most hilariously interesting relationship. (MMC2 can actually take very good care of himself, because he's both brilliant and street smart, but MFC entirely disapproves of his flying-by-the-seat-of-his-pants methods. Yet she loves him anyway, for reasons she hasn't told me yet.)

(Oh, MFC and SFC are twin sisters, in case you're curious.)

Saturday, October 30, 2010

Assorted bits and pieces

I would make this seven quick takes, but today is Saturday, so I'll just do bullet points.

- All the littles are VERY excited to have me home.

- Yet the second thing out of Teresa's mouth (after "I love you so much!") was "Where's Scott?"

- We're going to the "acwawum" tomorrow and picking up Scott on the way. I am at least as excited as Teresa. :)

- I hated War and Peace (after reading it under compulsion for Honors) so much that I was terrified to crack open The Brothers Karamazov. I'd read BK 4 years ago upon the recommendation of the lovely and brilliant Emily, who was a college freshman just out of a Russian lit class, and LOVED it, but maybe I've just lost my love for Russian literature somewhere along the way these last 4 years.

- Nope. 7 pages in, and I'm enamored all over again. If I had a Dostoyevsky fangirl t-shirt, I'd don it now.

- My mom wants me to make myself a birthday list. (I should put "Dostoyevsky fangirl t-shirt" on there). I was stumped on the "Things That Are Not Books" category until one of my friends suggested that I ask for household goods so that when I move out after graduation I will have that sort of stuff. So now I have fun things like "sharp knives" on my birthday list. :)

- I have a shiny new horizontal driver's license. The horizontal part is noteworthy because in Ohio they differentiate under-21 drivers and over-21 drivers by having their licenses oriented vertically and horizontally respectively. (I love that I just used three adverbs in four words, by the way.)

- While I was out I voted via absentee ballot.

- During the car drive yesterday, Mom and I entertained ourselves by figuring out how I can eat for $90 a month. It is entirely possible, though things like bacon and chocolate are going to become luxuries for me. Maybe that's a good thing.

- I do not weigh the same as I did when I was 16, but the DMV lady didn't really ask so I didn't really tell.

- It occurred to me that the next time I go to the DMV will probably be due to a name change, not a birthday. :)

- My big sister loves me. She came along with Mom yesterday, and so we're all driving back and we stop for dinner and I forget to tell the fast-food people that I want my fish sandwich PLAIN. So I get a sandwich that's drowning in tartar sauce, and just about had a nervous breakdown in the car until Kitty offered to trade her popcorn shrimp for my fish sandwich. All was then right with the world.

- She also let me use one of her pillows when it came to light at 11 p.m. that I had none and she had two.

- Sometime I should write a post about my weird food aversions. Normally I can take things like "there's SAUCE on my SANDWICH" in stride, but then there are those days when we're in the car and I'm exhausted and starving and I JUST WANT FOOD I CAN EAT. My heart bleeds for people with actual food allergies.

- I said "My heart bleeds for you" to Mom a lot yesterday, but it was about things like "I told Kitty to give everyone 1 piece of candy and she probably could have given them 2, because we have a lot left."

- Whoever is in charge of such things in the Polis stupidly scheduled Trick-or-Treat for Thursday, which is unspeakably bizarre given that Halloween is Sunday, and very upsetting for me because I like taking the Princess Trick-or-Treating.

- Then again, now I don't have to worry about eating all the candy before Trick-or-Treat. Your heart bleeds for me, doesn't it?

Thursday, October 21, 2010

My post for the day... to send you here.

And to thank Karen Edmisten for once again pointing me to an amazing piece of poetry.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

To my baby on her birthday

Dear Teresa,

Today you are four, and I cannot get my mind around that. If you are four then that means you've been with us for less than two and a half years; if you are four it means it was barely more than two years ago that Mom and Dad went out for a night and so I rocked you to sleep and you held my finger in your little baby hand and I thought, You are holding my heart.

You are still holding it. I do not think I knew how deeply I could love another human being until I met you. I love your godfather very much, but it is different somehow. We can define and quantify it, to an extent. We can set boundaries on how far we let it go.

There were never any boundaries possible for loving you. There are no words to describe it, and I am a writer so I know words.

All I can give you is a story, because I am a writer.

When you are a very little bit older I will take you to the St. Jude chapel at our church, and I will put a dollar in the box (I will probably let you slide it through the slot, because that is fun), and we will each light a candle and I will whisper to you that I lit a thousand candles for you, here in front of St. Jude. Because I was a teenager with an impossible prayer, and when you are a teenager you do immoderate things (immoderate things involving fire is a bonus) and when you have an impossible prayer you go to St. Jude.

I didn't know about you, when I spent endless hours and most of my papergirl income praying and lighting candles. Most of the time I was praying, you were already alive, you just weren't my sister yet.

Except you were always my sister. Since the beginning of time you were my sister, and God prepared my heart ahead of time for you, so that when you came with no promises of staying I would be able to love you more deeply than I ever loved anyone else.

You stayed, and one day when you were three we went to the courthouse and then the law recognized what we always knew: That you were always meant to be ours, and we were always meant to be yours. The judge said then what a good thing it was for you to be with us; he remarked on how much you needed us.

He had no idea that he was only telling half the story, or perhaps less than half. He did not know what a good thing it was for us to have you, or how very much we needed you.

I know that half of the story, and I am still in awe of the grace that you are. I don't think I will ever stop thanking God that he answered a teenager's impossible prayer.

I love you.


Photo taken by my mom, December of 2009

Friday, October 15, 2010

Seven Quick Takes: The Little Princess Edition

1. The Princess is turning FOUR on Tuesday. Nobody gave her permission to get that old, but there she goes doing it anyway.

2. Today is her name day.

3. She is enamored of our pastor, who is a gentle giant (about 6 1/2 feet tall and built like a linebacker) and absolutely loves kids. One day this summer she saw him in his clericals (you know, the black pants and shirt with the collar) and refused to say hi. Apparently a giant man in black is a lot scarier than a giant man in billowing vestments. Who'd've thunk it?

4. During the Corpus Christi procession way back in June, Teresa absolutely insisted that Emily carry her the entire time. Many of my blog readers know Emily in person, but to those of you who don't--she's about 5'3" and pretty slenderly built, while Teresa weighs about 45 pounds. So it was kind of taxing. But Emily put up with it cheerfully the whole time we walked around the square.

5. Teresa spent the rest of the summer talking about how she wanted to go to the pool with Emily.

6. She also spent most of the summer saying she wanted a baby for her birthday. Apparently the Little Man is young enough to suit her, because as far as I know she hasn't asked again since he arrived.

7. She still had a long enough list of requests, so Mom pulled together a princess-themed birthday, and I'll be Skyping in on Sunday afternoon. I am eagerly anticipating it. :)

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Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Phones are socially awkward

Last night I decided after night class that I missed Scott. So I called his house, and conversed briefly with Eldest Younger Brother, who informed me that Scott had stayed late at school and would be back in about a half-hour. I asked him to relay the fact that I had called and then hung up.

That in itself is not worth a blog post; I don't call Scott's house often but I do it often enough.

I just felt it necessary to note that even after having dated Scott 2 1/2 years, talked to him on the phone probably hundreds of times, and talked to EYB on the phone at least a few dozen times (this conversation was pretty typical), I still can't totally tell them apart on the phone. I haven't been wrong in a long, long time, but there's still that moment of, "I am going to address you as if you are EYB even though I'm only about 70% sure you are." The hesitation is noticeable enough in my voice that when I got off the phone and said, "[EYB] and Scott sound SO much alike!" my roommate said something to the effect of, "Oh, that's what it was. Because when you asked for Scott you sounded like you weren't totally sure you weren't already talking to Scott."

If there was a point to this post, it would be in this paragraph. Happy Tuesday, everyone.

Saturday, October 9, 2010

Who would YOU date? [*Language alert*]

My friend Michael A. says on Facebook: "I don't get that one like that keeps floating around about how a tall guy with a short girl is cute, but a short guy with a tall girl is awkward. Isn't that sexist and weird?"

Peter J. replies:

Yeah it pisses me off too (for obvious reasons, maybe..haha).

It is pretty sexist--in my experience, a lot of guys find it emasculating to be shorter than their girlfriend. I think that displays a tragic insecurity in their own masculinity.... As a short man, I don't find it to be emasculating at all. I don't think the fact that a girl can reach higher up than me makes me less of a man, nor do I feel that my masculinity is dependent upon my being any taller than anyone, man or woman. If I can't reach a book on the top shelf, that says absolutely nothing about my manhood. In fact, it says a lot about the lack of manhood in the taller guys who mock.
Admittedly, there may be some primal need to be protected that a woman feels, and so she goes for the bigger, taller man. Again, in my experience the physical size of the man doesn't protect a woman nearly as well as his integrity or character. I've protected women in the past, and you know how tiny I am. The bigger guys who can 'get all the girls' tend to take advantage of their physically dominating traits and throw their weight around to prove that they're the alpha male. In reality, little ol' me has made guys three times my size back off when they're making a woman feel uncomfortable. Protecting a woman is about confidence and chivalry more than height and brute strength.

So, superficial America, you tell me what's better: a tall, musclebound douchebag or a guy of any size who actually cares about the girl he's with?

/rant. Clearly this has all occurred to me before. ;)

Friday, October 8, 2010

Seven Quick Takes: Midterms edition

1. This is the 500th post published on this blog. I think that's kind of impressive.

2. I had midterms this week, so my brain is totally and completely dead.

3. The Princess is in preschool two days a week. Wednesday, Mom asked her, "What did you learn in preschool today?" She replied, "Be gentle with the other children." One gets the idea she hears that a lot.

4. On a related note, Mom reports that after Mass on Sunday the Little Man was whining because Dad wouldn't put him down so he could walk. Dad asked, "And WHY won't I let you down?" The Little Man replied sagely, "Because I was acting like a baby."

5. At the most stressful point of my week (Wednesday afternoon), Scott showed me a webpage he'd built that prints "Are we there yet?" over and over again until you hit a button saying "We're there!" It is quite possibly the most awesome thing I've ever seen.

6. Sometimes I am reminded strongly of the fact that there's a reason he and I are dating each other and nobody else. Or rather lots of reasons. And our completely bizarre sense of humor is one of them. (I put sense in the singular because ours are pretty much identical, despite being very bizarre.)

Of course, one of the other reasons is the fact that he also gets me when I'm being serious, better than anybody else does.

7. Sometimes Cheez Whiz is a crucial plot point.

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Wednesday, October 6, 2010

A belated tribute to my guardian angel

MOM: Do not read this post. Love, Megan.

Inspired by Philangelus, I decided to post the story of the car wreck last year, which I don't believe I ever mentioned on this blog--by the time I stopped feeling all post-traumatic stressed about it, I was on my big long blogging break.

Anyway. The wreck happened on August 23, 2009; this account was written to some friends on September 16, 2009. (For those of you who don't already know who Morgan is, she's a friend who used to go back and forth with me sometimes. She's since graduated.)

So, the last time I posted (on the prayer request forum) I asked for safe travels back to school.

Thanks for the prayers, first off. I obviously needed them, since about halfway back to school a semi driver decided to change lanes and didn't notice that the van was already in that spot. (Or maybe he thought he could defy the laws of physics or something.)

The laws of physics being what they are, we smashed into a bank and then flipped over (maybe twice, I don't remember). And my second thought (after "Is everybody okay?") was, "We're going to be late, aren't we?"

By then an off-duty EMT from Noblesville, Indiana, had come to our rescue. He was in central Ohio with his little EMT truck because he was on his way to training in Wheeling. (I could not make this stuff up, people.) After we had gotten out and brushed ourselves off, another random stranger asked where we were going. When he heard that we were going to Steubenville, he offered to take us because he was going to Pittsburgh. Since he was a random stranger, we politely declined.

A few minutes later Morgan's cell phone rang. It was her friend Julie, who just happened to be driving by on her own way to school and wanted to ask, "Morgan, why are you standing by the side of the road? Did you see that van? I feel sorry for *those* people!"

Once Morgan explained that she *was* one of those people, Julie had her dad turn around and come fetch us. A couple hours later we made it into Steubenville with a couple of bags each. Before the check-in deadline, even.

Oh, and this all happened a few miles from my grandma's house, so the EMT gave Mom a ride over there, and all our other stuff ended up in Grandma's garage. The next day Dad went and got all of it and brought it to Steubenville for us.

Morgan and I were both a little sore but perfectly fine within a few days. Mom had a pulled muscle in her shoulder and some epic bruises, but she's doing much better now. (3 weeks later.) The only real casualty was Morgan's Bruce Lee poster. (And poor Leslie the Minivan, of course.)

And that's how I got to school in one piece.

And here are some pictures of the van (with the plates edited out in Paint):

Monday, October 4, 2010

Sunday Social Notes: 27th Sunday in Ordinary Time

(With apologies to Seraphic Spouse.)

This past Sunday was homecoming weekend at our correspondent's university, so she ended up driving 45 minutes to attend Mass in the Extraordinary Form, along with her roommate, Gratia Plena, and two alumni and old friends, Petrvs Romanvs and Pope Ioseph of the Apostolic See of Ann Arbor.

The forces of the enemy were no doubt at work on Sunday morning, for it was raining miserably and Petrvs was unable to find his keys. Therefore, there was much waiting in the rain while he searched, and then much walking in the rain after he found them, for his vehicle was parked in the area colliquially known as the Ninth Circle of Hell.

After our correspondent had warmed up somewhat, she enjoyed conversing with her companions about a variety of topics, with interspersed comments from Petrvs about how his keys and the traffic were going to end up preventing him from making it out of Confession before the Asperges.

Our correspondent and her companions arrived at church well before the Asperges, and Petrvs and Ioseph did place themselves in the line for Confession, while our correspondent and Gratia did find a spot in the pew, just 2 rows behind an adorable and very young infant, who did distract our correspondent with his cuteness for the entirety of the Mass. Our correspondent is very distractible, even when the very young infants in front of her are innocently sleeping.

The priest did toddle down the aisle singing the Asperges, and did douse our correspondent in holy water, but a moment before Petrvs, newly shriven, did take his seat beside her. Our correspondent was somewhat disappointed on his behalf, but reflected that at least they had made it in time for him to approach the coming Banquet with an unspotted soul.

Ioseph disappeared from the Confession line, but did also disappear from our correspondent's vision. Fear not, however, for he was located at the end of Mass and revealed that he had been sitting up front and on the opposite side of the church. But more on that anon.

There were a great many mantillas, both black and white, including two white ones upon the heads of our correspondent and Gratia. Our correspondent is not good at math, so she did not count them. She also did not ask Gratia, who is a student of mathematics, to count them, even though Gratia is good at math.

The priest did read the readings and make the announcements and preach a homily, which was almost entirely taken from the writings of St. Therese of the Child Jesus and the Holy Face, and was about the Eucharist. Properly edified, our correspondent and her remaining companions did process up the aisle and kneel at the altar rail to receive the aforementioned Eucharist.

After the dismissal, our correspondent and her remaining companions did exit the church, whereupon they relocated Ioseph and discovered several friends who had likewise chosen to attend Mass there rather than on campus. Ioseph decided that he preferred to partake of the Lunch of Peace with the other friends, and so once more abandoned our correspondent and her remaining companions.

Therefore, our correspondent and her remaining companions did retire to a restaurant famous for its Beer of Fellowship, which resulted in much ribbing of our correspondent, who is not yet of legal age to partake in the Beer of Fellowship. Instead, our correspondent and Gratia did partake of the Ice Water of Sobriety, while Petrvs responsibly imbibed a limited quantity of the Beer of Fellowship. All three did also partake of the Pizza and Other Foodstuffs of Temperate Enjoyment, and did have a very pleasant conversation on various and sundry topics. The waiter did make a mistake and bring only one bill, which Petrvs manfully paid. However, our correspondent is informed that he allowed Gratia to prevail upon him to allow her to give him money; therefore, our correspondent must at some point give Gratia money.

Afterwards, Petrvs, having imbibed responsibly, was able to convey our correspondent and Gratia back to campus. Upon noticing the deserted nature of the parking lot, he did insist upon conveying Gratia to her car, which she had out of necessity parked in the Ninth Circle of Hell. Gratia was thus able to relocate her vehicle to Purgatory with less trouble than she would have had otherwise.

Petrvs did then insist upon dropping our correspondent off at her dorm, where she did homework. Now, a day later, she must leave off this account and go do more homework.

Friday, October 1, 2010

Seven Quick Takes: Life, death, and cookies edition

1. September is starting to depress me. Last year, my grandfather died, his brother (my great-uncle) died, and Vivian died. This year Fr. Lee died. I'm kind of glad September is over now.

2. Then again, I also got a new second cousin this September, which in this case means that my great-aunt got to think about her first grandchild instead of thinking about the anniversaries of her brothers' deaths. Thanks to the wonder of Facebook, I get to see pictures of baby C. He is ridiculously adorable.

3. It was my dad's birthday this past Sunday, and I Skyped into the party. I got to sing Happy Birthday and watch him blow out candles, and it was almost as good as being there.

4. Two days later, I got a package from my mother that included mint chocolate chip cookies, so I was no longer sad about not getting any cake. My roommate and I are making quick work of them.

5. Completely random note: I could be in DAR if I wanted to. I was reminded of that because I'm related to baby C. through my mother, whose extended family I know primarily because we've all lived in Ohio since the 1790s and so we're concentrated enough to actually have family reunions. (There is a certain ideal level of scatter for family reunions...too little and you see each other all the time anyway; too much and nobody wants to buy a plane ticket to eat hamburgers with people they only see every two or three years.)

6. Going back to the subject of baby sister is going to be FOUR soon. When did that happen and how do I make it stop?

7. In Liturgy the other day, we were talking about blessed objects, and one student asked how to dispose of them. Father replied that they should be buried. The student said, "But what if you have your car blessed?" Father grinned impishly and replied, "Then you bury the car. Get a bulldozer and RRRRRRR."

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