I've been thinking a lot today about questions and the people who ask them. It seems there are people who ask "what" questions and people who ask "why" questions. I don't think I respond well to "what" questions. I feel like I'm being interrogated and the question lingers in my mind long after the conversation ends. These are a few examples of 'what' questions from various levels of friends in the past few weeks: "what do you like to do on the weekend?" "what is your living situation like?" "what would you do if you were in an argument with a friend?" "what is your idea of a perfect marriage?"
These sort of 'what' questions do not stir thought in me. They don't speak any language in my mind for me to answer with emotion and thought but only black and white words. I get "why" questions. "Why do you like Steinbeck?" "Why do you enjoy hiking on Saturday morning?" "Why do you like animals so much?" "Why did the chicken cross the road?" (just kidding. just seeing if you were paying attention.)
Is there a difference between a "what" and a "why" question? Do different personality traits ask one kind of question more over another? Like, I'm an INTJ and I ask and respond more often to 'why' questions. One of my closest friends is also and INTJ and they also seem to ask and respond to 'why' questions.
I tried GOOGLEing this topic, but doesn't seem to be a lot of research out there. Maybe I should change the name of my blog to Why Why's??
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Monday, February 18, 2008
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
If a Woodchuck Could Chuck Wood...
My first official date was with a boy named Chuck. I was 17, he 16. He drove a beige Chevy Nova and I thought he was soooo cool. We worked together at Burger King and bonded over burgers and Beatles. Even though we had a great time goofing off at work, I was terrified to go on a date with him alone, and made my friend Beth, go with us. Even though the date was disatrous, we flirted and dated for another six months before he moved away to MI.
There's a new Chuck in my life. http://www.nbc.com/Chuck/ I'm almost as in-love with this Chuck as the first Chuck. Except this new Chuck won't leave me crying in my pillow at night.
I've watched Chuck so many times, that recently I wrote out a check to "Buy More" instead of "Best Buy". I know, seriously, who writes checks anymore??
Watch the show. It's awesome. And hopefully someday soon the writers strike will be over and more than 13 episodes will be available.
There's a new Chuck in my life. http://www.nbc.com/Chuck/ I'm almost as in-love with this Chuck as the first Chuck. Except this new Chuck won't leave me crying in my pillow at night.
I've watched Chuck so many times, that recently I wrote out a check to "Buy More" instead of "Best Buy". I know, seriously, who writes checks anymore??
Watch the show. It's awesome. And hopefully someday soon the writers strike will be over and more than 13 episodes will be available.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Big
A while back, a friend asked on her blog, for people to list their favorite body part. We love to pick apart our bodies and find the major and minor flaws that make us a real human being. I thought it was a great post from my friend, but I never personally accepted the challenge.
I’m not a petite girl. I was born tall like my dad, and curvy like my mom, and my step-dad worked solid muscle into the mix. I tend to get most compliments on my body when I’m at the gym, or out hiking, biking, or being active. Somehow, normal clothes mask my best features. What looks sexy curvy and strong in a swimming suit looks fat in a sweater. What looks powerful and sleek in shorts looks…well, I don’t even try to wear jeans…Am I the only woman in America who feels more comfortable nude than clothed? Why did Lucifer have to tell Adam and Eve they were naked?
However, there are some compliments no woman likes to hear, not matter how honest and sincere they may be. Thursday night while at the gym, I was working in leg lifts with a small Brazilian man. He was lifting 150 lb, me 50 lb. He was helping me re-weight the machine and he says “You have such strong legs.” With a lascivious smile and then proceeded to watch me with my 12 rep set. The rest of the evening he followed me around the gym. (Which is also why I never talk, or make eye contact, with anyone at the gym!) On Friday, as I was walking through the Public Gardens, two men walked past me and one said “I love your big beautiful legs!” Okay, seriously, the words ‘love’ and ‘beautiful’ do not override the word ‘big’ here.
I do like my legs because they carry me here and there and hold me up and they are strong. But I think my favorite things about me that are also big, are my heart and my brain. Unfortuantly, I can't really take a photo of those things. Sorry.
I’m not a petite girl. I was born tall like my dad, and curvy like my mom, and my step-dad worked solid muscle into the mix. I tend to get most compliments on my body when I’m at the gym, or out hiking, biking, or being active. Somehow, normal clothes mask my best features. What looks sexy curvy and strong in a swimming suit looks fat in a sweater. What looks powerful and sleek in shorts looks…well, I don’t even try to wear jeans…Am I the only woman in America who feels more comfortable nude than clothed? Why did Lucifer have to tell Adam and Eve they were naked?
However, there are some compliments no woman likes to hear, not matter how honest and sincere they may be. Thursday night while at the gym, I was working in leg lifts with a small Brazilian man. He was lifting 150 lb, me 50 lb. He was helping me re-weight the machine and he says “You have such strong legs.” With a lascivious smile and then proceeded to watch me with my 12 rep set. The rest of the evening he followed me around the gym. (Which is also why I never talk, or make eye contact, with anyone at the gym!) On Friday, as I was walking through the Public Gardens, two men walked past me and one said “I love your big beautiful legs!” Okay, seriously, the words ‘love’ and ‘beautiful’ do not override the word ‘big’ here.
I do like my legs because they carry me here and there and hold me up and they are strong. But I think my favorite things about me that are also big, are my heart and my brain. Unfortuantly, I can't really take a photo of those things. Sorry.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Feasting
I recently read an essay from Krista Bremer titled “My accidental Jihad” in which the author describes the lesson’s she learns during her husband’s observance of Ramadan. As she is coming to terms with the natural human tendency towards selfishness, she wonders “Is love an endless feast, or is it what people manage to serve each other when their cupboards are bare?”
The statement first hit my heart where I had to honestly acknowledge that a few of my friends that I have been frustrated with have fed me over and over, even though their cupboards were wiped clean. And I know that I do not. I hoard. I have little stashes and pockets of me saved away from everyone.
After I mulled that realization over for awhile, I started thinking how this concept applies to not only our relationships with ourself, and with other people, but with things such as work, school, hobbies, etc. Am I pursuing dreams in my life that I can continue to serve even when my cupboards are bare? Elder Oaks Sunday afternoon talk also talked about this: There is good, better and best. Work towards the best thing.
I habitually pursue things that weren’t as important to me for lack of courage. But all those things I’ve worked towards aren’t necessarily things that I will be able to serve when I am empty. There is too much going out and not enough coming in. And I don’t mean enough “ME” time. I am selfish or self preserving enough to demand that, but I don’t have enough important nourishment coming in to sustain me.
Safety is Wonder Bread and a glass of water.
The statement first hit my heart where I had to honestly acknowledge that a few of my friends that I have been frustrated with have fed me over and over, even though their cupboards were wiped clean. And I know that I do not. I hoard. I have little stashes and pockets of me saved away from everyone.
After I mulled that realization over for awhile, I started thinking how this concept applies to not only our relationships with ourself, and with other people, but with things such as work, school, hobbies, etc. Am I pursuing dreams in my life that I can continue to serve even when my cupboards are bare? Elder Oaks Sunday afternoon talk also talked about this: There is good, better and best. Work towards the best thing.
I habitually pursue things that weren’t as important to me for lack of courage. But all those things I’ve worked towards aren’t necessarily things that I will be able to serve when I am empty. There is too much going out and not enough coming in. And I don’t mean enough “ME” time. I am selfish or self preserving enough to demand that, but I don’t have enough important nourishment coming in to sustain me.
Safety is Wonder Bread and a glass of water.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
look-a-like. or not.
Way back in the early days of Julia Roberts, I had people say I looked like her. I think mostly because of my big mouth. According to this nifty system, these are 8 celebrities I look like now. Somehow I'm mostly Asian....The only one I mostly agree with is Jamie Lynn Spears and I'm not so sure how pleased I am that I look like the Spears girls. But I don't know I am from Shreveport LA. Maybe we're cousins?
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Your A Nation
There are a *few* things I'm obsessive about; gum, popcorn, vegetables and water. Lots and lots and lots of water. Every once in a while I’ll measure how much I drink, and it’s around four gallons a day. It’s excessive, I know, but I can’t help myself! I love the wet clear liquidity of it. I swear I can feel my blood cells plump up after a tall glass of water.
The down side to all this water consumption is the water expulsion. As noted in previous post, I love to go walking and hiking. Unfortunately, I can’t go hiking for more than two hours without needing to go to pee.
Most often I go hiking with my backpack, if nothing else to hold an extra pack of gum and my wallet incase I want to run an errand on the way home. Today, however, I wanted to be light and mobile, and left the pack at home. There was one errand on my way, and I tucked my Bank of America card into the little pocket on the inside of my running shorts.
It was a beautiful hike along a new rocky trail. I would climb to a little summit and look out on the view with the city in the distance and the Snoopy clouds in the sky. Down I would go, jumping from rock to tree root, swinging down the path, running with the red dragon flies. After an hour, the path forked. I could access the gravel road that would lead me out of the Fells and back home, or I could continue on for a while. I chose to continue on, but with each passing step and jump, I felt that it wasn’t the right choice and decided to turn around and take the shorter route.
As nature would have it, I knew I wouldn’t be able to make it another hour back home with out visiting a nice big tree or boulder. I sat my walkman down and found a little place off the trail. The hike home would be much more comfortable now.
Two miles later, three blocks from my house, I realized that my Bank of America card was no longer in my short pocket. For an instance I thought “I’ll just call it in lost and have it replaced.” But I believe if you break it you fix it, lose it, find it. I had to at least attempt at retracing my steps to try to find it.
I casually scanned the mile long stretch of sidewalk but I knew it wouldn’t be there. I was confident that it had flipped out of my pocket during my haste in lowering and pulling back up my shorts, way back deep in the trail. While my bladder may fail me, the endurance of my legs walking, the earnestness of following my conviction, and pure faith led me to the very spot the card laid. I knew that I would find it, but it’s still a miracle. One little golden leaf colored 2 inch card in a 25,000 acre leaf covered land.
So the moral of the story is, drinking water will give you soft skin, and leave your bank card at home when going hiking.
The down side to all this water consumption is the water expulsion. As noted in previous post, I love to go walking and hiking. Unfortunately, I can’t go hiking for more than two hours without needing to go to pee.
Most often I go hiking with my backpack, if nothing else to hold an extra pack of gum and my wallet incase I want to run an errand on the way home. Today, however, I wanted to be light and mobile, and left the pack at home. There was one errand on my way, and I tucked my Bank of America card into the little pocket on the inside of my running shorts.
It was a beautiful hike along a new rocky trail. I would climb to a little summit and look out on the view with the city in the distance and the Snoopy clouds in the sky. Down I would go, jumping from rock to tree root, swinging down the path, running with the red dragon flies. After an hour, the path forked. I could access the gravel road that would lead me out of the Fells and back home, or I could continue on for a while. I chose to continue on, but with each passing step and jump, I felt that it wasn’t the right choice and decided to turn around and take the shorter route.
As nature would have it, I knew I wouldn’t be able to make it another hour back home with out visiting a nice big tree or boulder. I sat my walkman down and found a little place off the trail. The hike home would be much more comfortable now.
Two miles later, three blocks from my house, I realized that my Bank of America card was no longer in my short pocket. For an instance I thought “I’ll just call it in lost and have it replaced.” But I believe if you break it you fix it, lose it, find it. I had to at least attempt at retracing my steps to try to find it.
I casually scanned the mile long stretch of sidewalk but I knew it wouldn’t be there. I was confident that it had flipped out of my pocket during my haste in lowering and pulling back up my shorts, way back deep in the trail. While my bladder may fail me, the endurance of my legs walking, the earnestness of following my conviction, and pure faith led me to the very spot the card laid. I knew that I would find it, but it’s still a miracle. One little golden leaf colored 2 inch card in a 25,000 acre leaf covered land.
So the moral of the story is, drinking water will give you soft skin, and leave your bank card at home when going hiking.
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