well I'll be damned...

Check out these quiz results for "What's your theological worldview?":

You scored as Evangelical Holiness/Wesleyan. You are an evangelical in the Wesleyan tradition. You believe that God's grace enables you to choose to believe in him, even though you yourself are totally depraved. The gift of the Holy Spirit gives you assurance of your salvation, and he also enables you to live the life of obedience to which God has called us. You are influenced heavly by John Wesley and the Methodists.

Evangelical Holiness/Wesleyan 79% Emergent/Postmodern 71% Neo orthodox 68% Roman Catholic 46% Classical Liberal 39% Charismatic/Pentecostal 36% Reformed Evangelical 36% Modern Liberal 36% Fundamentalist 18% What's your theological worldview? created with QuizFarm.com

I am surprised and bemused by these quiz results. I've never thought of the Methodists and John Wesley as major theological influences for me. Interesting... The only thing I could have told you is that Fundamentalism would be dead last. It seems to me that hardcore Fundamentalists are largely a bunch of very frightened people. But the Emergent/Postmodern and Neo Orthodox categories do feel like a comfortable match for me.

leftover thoughts

I forgot to mention that I had totally predicted what Meghan's ring would look like, just off the top of my head with no clues whatsoever. I called a white gold ring with three diamonds (a big one in the middle). I even have witnesses to the fact that I predicted before I ever saw any pictures.

Yesterday I ate raspberries and the empty bowl looked like bloody murder (or perhaps pagan sacrifice) had occurred. I wanted to take a picture, but Aaron washed it.

The bus stop where I transfer busses to get to work has a glass shelter, right up against the hedge of the cemetery that's behind it. The glass apparently functions as a greenhouse, because there's a whole bunch of morning glories in the hedge, but only right behind the bus shelter. Maybe I'll take a picture sometime. It is the most beautiful part of the cemetery.

Cemeteries in Vancouver are ugly. They are functional, have a few random trees, and mowed lawns. Cemeteries in Toronto are much prettier. There's this thing called "landscaping" that means curving paths, flower beds, shrubs and more trees. My mom loves going for a walk in the cemetery near her house. I would never set foot in a Vancouver cemetery unless I had to pay my respects to someone. Lets take a survey: are the cemeteries in your town beautiful or just functional?

EVEN MORE happies

Robi and Rikki are engaged too! They're getting married SOON, on August 18th! AAAAAAAHHHH!

*collapses, overwhelmed with excitement*

What I Found When I Returned Home

So Liz might think she's awfully clever and has figured out What I Found When I Returned Home. But she is wrong! When I Returned Home, I Found an e-mail from the hiring man in the jobA/jobB fiasco. Turns out his darling for job A turned him down, so now he's offering it to me! I still need to do a second interview and do the references thing, but my impression of hiring man is that as soon as a mildly suitable candidate arrives at his doorstep, he just shoos them in. (This may sound like a self-putdown, but really it's just demonstrating my tweakedness that he didn't really give me a chance until his first candidate opted out. But I'll get over it, it's not a mortal insult or anything.) So, look forward to me having a brand new 40 hours per week job in September!

Two days AFTER I returned home, I came home from work to be instructed by my husband to call my brother. This information immediately put the lights in my eyes, because I have been patiently waiting for this phone call some time already. MY BROTHER TOBIN IS ENGAGED! TO MEGHAN! I am absolutely fantastically thrilled. Ask anyone who was at my house at the time. That night we went out for sushi, and we toasted the happy couple with our green tea, and then I was so exuberant that later we had to toast my new sister-in-law (to be) with our gelato cups. I like Meghan and Tobin and Tobinandmeghan very much. Everybody celebrate!

mushing our way along the Dawson trail

So, my vacation is now officially over. It was good times. The recurring theme characters of the road trip were moose and bugs. We actually only saw one of the former and only a few hundred thousand of the latter (mostly in splat format on the front of our car), which was too bad (moose) but also a relief (bugs). I was afraid we'd have Ontario- or Manitoba-style mosquito swarms, but it really wasn't that bad at all. One night I told Aaron a really really good bedtime story about a moose and some bugs, and perhaps I will post it sometime when I don't have a million other things to talk about. Ask me about my epic bug tragedies sometime.

The wedding of Samarie was also good. I discovered that Aaron and I work quite well together as a husband-wife photography team. Aaron is the artistic director, and I am the practical implementor and collector of family members (for large group portraits). I was proud of our accomplishment. We took many pictures in hopes that a good number of them will be stellar. Professionals always take many in order to increase the chances of getting the perfect facial expressions in several shots.

Fun stuff surrounding the wedding included hanging out with all our university friends again. We composed a poem to present at the wedding called "The Courting of Samarie" to the tune of "The Cremation of Sam McGee" and it was quite clever thanks largely to Paul. It was also culturally appropriate because it's all about the gold rush and the north and such, and that's where the wedding was held! Another big fun thing was the friendly prank where we all took pictures of ourselves in the happy couple's new apartment and then posted them in the places where they were taken. This way they can have the company of friends when they move in and not feel so alone. We wuv dem (spoken in Annemarie's cat voice).

Due to a comedy of errors, we began our return road trip by driving two and a half hours north towards the Yukon instead of south towards Vancouver. This made me very exited, and I wanted to keep going because I've never been to any of Canada's territories before, and I even got Steph on my side, but Aaron vetoed due to my having to be back at work on Friday. But at least I got to go to Pink Mountain. I'll bet you've never been to Pink Mountain! It's about as far north as I've ever been. Another plus was taking a different route back south and discovering the absolutely gorgeous Peace River Valley. I swear it is Canada's incarnation of Valhalla, Shangri-La, the Happy Hunting Grounds, or whatever Eden floats your boat.

I also saw purple flowers in a yellow field, and bison.

We (Aaron, myself, Steph W. and Laura) camped for two nights at Nairn Falls near Pemberton. It was lots of fun to relax and do nothing but sit around, read, go for a few walks/hikes, and make food. Tin foil dinners were the most exciting, as they included roasted garlic, yams and steak in addition to the standard potatoes, carrots and oninos. We also discovered the cleanest gas station bathrooms EVER at Lightfoot Gas in Lillooet, BC. I felt like tipping somebody, I was so impressed.

I was surprised to find that returning to the southern coastal mountains and later Vancouver felt like a real homecoming. I guess this means that I'm feeling more at home here "out West" than I had realised. Cool.

I shall now end this post, and put What I Found When I Returned Home in a new post. (Don't worry, it's not bad.)

happy packing

Yesterday our apartment was frickin' boiling, so I wore my bikini while I was packing, and then I tucked my ipod into my bikini and sang along with every song. I was hot stuff, and Aaron said I was an ipod commercial. Fun, fun, fun! (Till her daddy takes the T-bird awa-a-a-ay!

no comments = no love (sort of)

In case you don't read the blogs of half my friends listed to the left, let me inform you that it is roadtrip-to-Annemarie-and-Sam's-wedding time! Aaron and I will camp for one night on the way up to Dawson Creek, and then Steph and Laura will come back with us and go camping and hang out in Vancouver before flying home.

Here are the results of my job interviews: I got some really positive feedback from the secretary job (I'm pretty sure they were going to offer it to me), except that Aaron and I decided that we would not want to switch churches just for me getting 20 hours a week of secretarial work. So no job there.

The second interview turned out results as I had expected. Hiring man gave the youth leadership job that I wanted to another person, but asked me to reconsider applying for the children's after school program job. I just don't think I want to commit 3 years to a job I'm not that gung-ho about.

Third interview: I have been promoted to shift supervisor as expected. More money, more hours, and STOOPID opening shifts from time to time.

Finally, before I say goodbye, let me add this: I love getting comments on my blog! I check almost every day to see if anything I wrote inspired a response. Especially if I feel I've written something clever. If you feel like commenting, please do! I love it.

Okay, I'll be off for almost 2 weeks now. Happy June to you all! And Happy Wedding to Sam and Annemarie.

I patted a slug!

Last night I got a serious case of cabin fever and needed to get OUT of the house. I went for a walk, and here's what I saw:

Inside someone's living room they had a long trailing plant growing along their ceiling, just like I used to have in various CMU rez apartments.

I found a boulevard "water garden," which I think means that the plants there don't need to be watered but can handle themselves and still be pretty. I sat beside this garden and touched the plants. I like the way they feel. Then a man came and parked his car next to me, but he didn't know I was there, and when he got out and noticed me he apologised for disturbing my quiet. He totally got why I was there! I was afraid he might think I was waiting for a drug deal or something. I like that man.

I saw a star.

I walked past the place where a house died and now there was only a big grave of a hole that is going to become the foundation for a new home that someone will be happy living in.

I saw the full moon and some more stars.

I saw a bush that looked like it had a face.

I saw a big banana slug crossing the sidewalk, and it really did look like a banana! It was yellow with brown spots. I poked at its feelers and saw them disappear, and then I just held my finger in front of it to see what would happen. The slug came and licked my finger! It felt just like a cat's tongue, but smaller. Then I patted the slug, but I don't think it liked it, so I stopped. I just wanted to let it know that it was beautiful.

While I was hanging out with the slug on the sidewalk, I noticed that there were many glistening earthworms in the grass.

The thing I liked most about this walk (besides the beautiful slug) was how I wasn't really looking for any of these things. I just kept walking, and it was like the things I saw tapped me on the shoulder or said "Look at me! Look at me!" I like the world. I felt much refreshed, and was happy to go home once again.

the newspaper

Today I read the newspaper, and I feel the need to respond to a few things I read.

First of all, the Americans have killed al-Qaeda leader Abu Musab al-Zarqawi. All the articles speak of Bush and his army celebrating, but my heart is saddened by it all. No matter how evil this man might have been, he was still a man, and somebody out there misses him right now. And why is there a huge photograph of his dead face all over the place? Was that necessary? Murder disgusts me, especially when the response to it is 100% jubilant and 0% remorseful. That is vile and disrespectful. I know I am a pacifist and not everyone else is, but even non-pacifists ought to feel at least some measure of regret that murder has occurred.

The following statement (found on the Globe and Mail website) ought to ring the irony bell in everyone's heads: “Now Zarqawi has met his end, and this violent man will never murder again,” U.S. President George W. Bush said in Washington.

Secondly, some idiot congressman from Indiana has randomly spewed a bunch of bullshit about Canada being a terrorist breeding ground (see article). I use such strong language because the man is obviously filled to the brim with fear and absolutely lacking any actual facts or information to support his view. Canada may or may not be a breeding ground for terrorism...I would doubt it, but it's not as if I have piles of evidence to the contrary. But this American just said he's heard that "South Toronto" is an enclave for such activity and is extremely dangerous. Where, if I may ask, is "South Toronto" anyway? I grew up in Toronto, and I've never heard any area referred to as such. Toronto (along with its suburbs) is situated on the north shore of Lake Ontario, and thus is vaguely semi-circular, with the flat side being the south. East, West and North are all more definable than South in Toronto. South just encompasses too much, from eastern suburbs to downtown to western suburbs.

Also, the man alluded to 9-11 type events possibly resulting from Canada's lack of control of the situation, as indicated by its arrest of no less than 17 alleged terrorists. Might I point out that Canada has managed to arrest these men BEFORE they blew anything up? The men involved in 9-11 had lived in the USA and even trained there, and the almighty Americans didn't catch them before they blew stuff up. So which nation might be deemed safer? My vote is with the one that actually caught its terrorists pre-attack, and not with the nation that is turning into a fear-driven police state with too many guns to play with.

Finally, I read a headline that said prostate cancer has been linked with a chemical used in plastic water bottles. (I didn't bother to read the article.) This kind of article makes me want to scream, "PEOPLE! YOU ARE MORTAL! GET OVER IT!" How paranoid do we have to get? By now we should realize that even broccoli can supposedly both cure and cause cancer in various doses. Why don't people focus their research on the big killers like AIDS, and then get on with living a fulfilling life so that their death can be the proper conclusion to a good story instead of the nightmare that they just couldn't quite outrun?

In conclusion: People in this world are terrified of terror and death, and yet seem to prefer death and terror as ways of living whilst evading the terror of death. And I call myself an optimist....

interview mania

The week of The Job Interview is over! First job interview: secretary/office job. It went well, the people were friendly. There is competition for the job and my weakness would be lack of extensive experience (although I'm certainly experienced enough to do the job). We'll see how strong the competition is when (if?) I get a call back.

Second interview: program director sort of thing at an urban after-school program ministry place. This interview was slightly more confusing. I had applied for job A, something more youth leadership oriented. Hiring man e-mails and asks if I'd apply for job B, something with a bit more responsibility but more child-oriented. I like teens better than children, at least in terms of a job like this. After having an informal interview (not an official interview but more of a chat with the hiring man about the two jobs), I discover that there is solid competition for job A, but basically no competition for job B. Hiring man wants all his positions filled and therefore is pushing for putting me in job B. I'm pretty sure I'd rather have job A, but it sounds like they have someone in mind already, so chances are I won't be getting it anyway (I think?).

Third interview: shift supervisor at coffee shop. This interview was a friendly shoo-in. Perhaps because I knew this going in, I also felt this was my most successful interview. No "ummm..." moments, but clear flow of thoughts and words and interview brilliance. Why could I not have done this for Job A at intervew 2? Oh well.

on being late

I believe I have mentioned before how one of the only things I have nightmares about is being late. Well, yesterday I lived that nightmare.

THE STORY:
Aaron and I both had haircut appointments with the same hairdresser, Aaron in the morning and I in the evening. Aaron slept through his appointment entirely. I am trying to not be embarrassed by things he does, and I am trying not to assume responsibility for his waking up and getting places on time, so I decided to not get stressed out about this.

I checked the bus schedule for trip times to get to my appointment on time. Much to my chagrin, most of them said it would take 55 minutes to get there (I miss Toronto subways). However, there was one miracle entry telling me to transfer to a bus I had never heard of that would get me there in 40 minutes. I didn't see said bus on my transit map, but the internet told me it would be there for me. As I felt it was unjust to be on the bus for 55 minutes for a mere hair appointment, I decided to believe the 40 minute entry.

I got on the first bus, no problem. I got off at the right place, but couldn't find a bus stop that had the mysterious #84 listed on it. I decided to jump right to plan B instead of wasting time looking for a dubious plan A. I got on the skytrain and got off downtown. The downtown busses had all been moved a block over onto a different street. Downtown traffic is hell, and it was way slower going than I had estimated. At this point, I was already late.

As I neared the place to get off, I asked the bus driver to let me know when we got to my stop. It turns out that the two bits of information I'd been given to identify my stop were actually conflicting, so the busdriver didn't know when I should get off either. I called the hair salon and they told me I was so late that I shouldn't bother coming in at all. So, I simply got off at the next major intersection and began my long bus trek home. I spent the entire way home trying hard not to cry. (Part of the issue here is that I had opened the coffee shop at 5:30am and was short on sleep. For me, tired = emotionally volatile.)

THE POINT:
I'm beginning to get worried about me and how stressed out I get by being late. First of all, I imagine that everyone is ridiculously ticked off at me (and my husband), and that they think we're inconsiderate and irresponsible idiots. Aaron tries to convince me this is not so, but I don't think I quite believe him. Secondly, I feel crazy stressed out, like my blood is pumping funny and my tummy is tight and I feel the need to breathe heavily. Thirdly, and perhaps most scarily, I feel the need to bite my cheeks or dig my fingernails into my arm really hard, because I find the pain distracts me and puts the stress on pause.

This whole stress response to being late has only gotten this strong in the past year or so. I think part of it has to do with moving to a new place and feeling the need to make a good impression on all the people I meet who will be part of my new life here. Part of it has to do with marrying someone who has a reputation for being late and not wanting myself to become identified with that reputation for the rest of my life. But mostly, the crazy stress thing just weirds me out. Any thoughts?

my favourite secret of the week

Check out PostSecret sometime. I think it's a nifty website.

it has been too long

Hi I'm back! I was uninspired and untalkative this week. But I have THREE job interviews next week! Crazy, eh? One is just an interview for a promotion to shift supervisor at the coffee shop (finally), one is for a church secretary position, and one is for an urban after-school children's/youth ministry sort of job. Plus, I have a little contract for some word processing/editing this week. Weird how my jobhunting can be so dead for so long, and then suddenly go nuts. We'll see how things turn out.

My once-roomie Mimi got married a week ago yesterday. I thought of her this week when someone messed up my chai latte and made it with regular milk instead of soy. Mimi always drank "soy beverage" because she said it was better for you and that milk tasted like cow's butt. Now, I usually drink plain old 2%, but when it comes to chai I must have my soy. But this time they messed it up and made it with milk, and you know what? It tasted like cow's butt. I had always thought Mimi was joking.

The light was amazing as I bussed home from work yesterday. It was warm but cool-coloured. The air was full of light, but it wasn't bright, it was just blue somehow. I felt like maybe I was underwater in a really clear lake. It was nifty.

Yesterday a baby chatted me up. He was little and blonde and blue-eyed, and he just sat there in his stroller as it was being wheeled by me. When he first saw me, he started jabbering away in whatever language babies speak before they resort to English. He maintained eye contact and kept the syllables flowing until he was out of sight. Oddly enough, I got the feeling that he was flirting with me. Funny baby.