You will be open, mind

Nickolas Kristof introduced me to a new personality test in his column today. This is not one of those "how well do I know random Facebook friend" quizzes, but rather a legit way to contribute to research among five social psychologists out of UVa. The quizzes ask questions to determine why you have the morals you do (ex: does belief in God dictate morals?) and what your personality is composed of.

The graph below represents my personality based upon the questions asked. Alarmingly, I am not as agreeable as I thought I was. Hmmm.... The five personality traits are explained below the graph. When you have a few minutes, go take a test http://www.yourmorals.org/ .

I learned something new about myself today. (my personality is represented by the green columns).

1. Openness to experience: High scorers are described as "Open to new experiences. You have broad interests and are very imaginative." Low scorers are described as "Down-to-earth, practical, traditional, and pretty much set in your ways." This is the sub-scale that shows the strongest relationship to politics: liberals generally score high on this trait; they like change and variety, sometimes just for the sake of change and variety. Conservatives generally score lower on this trait. (Just think about the kinds of foods likely to be served at very liberal or very conservative social events.)

2. Conscientiousness: High scorers are described as "conscientious and well organized. They have high standards and always strive to achieve their goals. They sometimes seem uptight. Low scorers are easy going, not very well organized and sometimes rather careless. They prefer not to make plans if they can help it."

3. Extraversion: High scorers are described as "Extraverted, outgoing, active, and high-spirited. You prefer to be around people most of the time." Low scorers are described as "Introverted, reserved, and serious. You prefer to be alone or with a few close friends." Extraverts are, on average, happier than introverts.

4. Agreeableness: High scorers are described as "Compassionate, good-natured, and eager to cooperate and avoid conflict." Low scorers are described as "Hardheaded, skeptical, proud, and competitive. You tend to express your anger directly."

5. Neuroticism: High scorers are described as "Sensitive, emotional, and prone to experience feelings that are upsetting." Low scorers are described as "Secure, hardy, and generally relaxed even under stressful conditions."

unagreeable kiki san

I wanna be like Mike

"Why are you good at your job?"

I was asked this question by a student today at Ingraham High School because I was participating on a panel for career day. I was representing PATH, which felt weird, because at the age of 24, I have little business representing a 30 year old organization. But I took a stab at answering her question because I couldn't just respond by staring dumbly.

"Well, I'm good at my job because I believe in maintaining consistency across projects. I can flexibly handle a mid-stream switch without getting frustrated. I do not have ADD, but have so many responsibilites, I work like I do. And above all, I ask questions because I usually don't know the answer."

One of the students approached me after the panel and said, "I don't know how I'm going to get there, but I want to be like you." (cue my incredulous laugh) Upon further investigation I found out that she actually wanted my job, not necessarily to be like me. But the idea of having a role model stuck to my mind, and I've been kicking it around since. Over my lifetime I've had many role models which have been elevated due to whatever goal(s) I am working toward.

When I was younger I wanted to be a marine biologist/interior decorator like my Auntie T. Except that she was neither of those things:). For some reason I thought she was. Weird. I switched ambitions to musical theatre and thought that I might belt out "I am what I am" with my hero Linda Eder on a Broadway stage. Then came college and my role models "matured" with me. I came into my own in the poli sci department and so did because of people like Fareed Zakaria (before CNN), Chris Matthews, David Brooks, and Reed Davis. My role models now are Beth Moore, Dear C, Henri Nouwen, and almost anyone who can shed light on how to lead a daily walk of faith. I love that God created so many different kinds of people to be role models. And He is so gracious, He doesn't limit your life to an allowance of just one.

As I was walking out of the school I met pilots, firefighters, ad execs, and a groovy art enclave director. I wonder, who were their role models? Wouldn't it be cool to get all of your role models in one room so they could meet each other and see their collective product?

kiki san

"It's not my business, but I'm concerned"

I feel that food is an extension of who someone is. I used to think I had a diverse pallate, that was until I woke up to a traditional Japanese breakfast on my first day as an exchange student. I dove right in, happily eating little crunchy "japanese fries" (naming convention mine) until my translator laughingly pointed out that they, in fact, had eyes and were fish. After that episode, I learned to ask first, eat second. At least in Japan. Different story in S. Leone. I didn't want to know what I was eating there until it had been successfully digested.

Since I spend so much time at work, I've placed a lot of importance on the enjoyability of meals. I usually prepare my lunch at work because we have a huge kitchen. My preference is to eat many small meals throughout the day. Today, I was cutting up celery, zuchini, and peppers of the green and orange variety, when a colleague walked in on my sous-ing. He looked alarmed and said, "it's not my business, but I'm concerned about you". Then he said I was "slight" and needed protein. I told him he had no need for worry as this was meal 1 of 5 for the day.

In an odd way, his concern kind of warmed my heart housed in my slight body.

kiki san

Perfect peace

I can't recall a Memorial Day signalling the start of Summer quite so beautifully as today has. The french doors in my room have been swung wide, erasing the boundary between the space belonging to me and the space belonging to nature. An ocean-colored blanket bridges the carpet of my room to the concrete of the outdoor patio. And here I am, propped up on a carefully constructed stack of pillows, with a cool glass of water, and my hot pink painted toes escaped from the shade of my room, to enjoy the sun.

I'll be digging in the dirt here shortly (the weeds seem to feel more at home in our patio than the flowers, as noticed by staring outside without interruption for the past hour), but wanted to share a thought that so encouraged my heart this morning.

"There are many aspects to the nature of Christ. He is the Good Shepherd, our Deliverer and our Healer. We perceive God through the filter of our need of Him. And thus He has ordained, for He Himself is our one answer to a thousand needs."

-Francis Frangipane

I'm so dense, I didn't get the fullness of it the first time I read it. I had to reread it a few times and then I got chills. Good chills.

And just because it's Memorial Day and I love the 'cue, I'm posting pictures from our bbq last night. J came over with Brutus, the Haslam's newest addition to their family.

Prepping vegetable skewers for imminent grilling.

Look at that heaping potato salad...and J's distant stare.



Brutus.


kiki san

Consider the lilies

"Quit living as if the purpose of life is to arrive safely at death. Grab life by the mane. Set God-sized goals. Pursue God-ordained passions. Go after a dream that is destined to fail without divine intervention. Keep asking questions. Keep making mistakes. Keep seeking God. Stop pointing out problems and become part of the solution. Stop repeating the past and start creating the future. Stop playing it safe and start taking risks. Expand your horizons. Accumulate experiences. Consider the lilies. Enjoy the journey. Find every excuse you can to celebrate everything you can. Live like today is the first day and last day of your life. Don't let what's wrong with you keep you from worshipping what's right with God. Burn sinful bridges. Blaze a new trail. Criticize by creating. Worry less about what people think and more about what God thinks. Don't try to be who you're not. Be yourself. Laugh at yourself. Quit holding out. Quit holding back. Quit running away. Chase the lion."

- Mark Batterson

I don't need an anesthetic

Sometimes I wake up with a content, "life just couldn't get better" feeling in my soul. I half-make my bed with me still tucked in and roll out while trying not to disturb the aligned corners of my comforter and sheets. When my feet have found my slippers, I finish the job and adorn the bed with my 17 throw pillows. It's usually around that time that I realize I've had a sleepy grin on my face the whole time.

But not this morning.

I have a 7am yoga class on Thursday's, which I greatly enjoy when I participate. I am a "stretcher" (merci beacoup ballet), so yoga is a good excuse for me to "stretch it out" in an environment with other stretchers (people, not hospital stretchers, though maybe at some point one will need to be brought in...that was such a Papa san joke).



Well dear blog reader, I didn't go today.

I woke up with such a subconscious indifference in my spirit, it alarmed me. To be real, I was not immediately alarmed (maybe someday I'll be that in-tune), it was only after my last bite of brown sugar oatmeal, that I felt a gentle prompting to, "turn this ship around." So yoga fell off my calendar which freed up a good hour to seek guidance from my favorite Counselor. I sopped that hour up so quickly, when I finally looked up, I was smiling at a clock that told me I needed to hustle to get to work.

Indifference is one of my biggest personal enemies. It can creep in and neutralize my heart's reaction to simple joy (which I consider a spiritual gift...not being simple, but finding simple joy in anything...I can hear my Papa San chuckling about me "being simple"). Lessons like this reinforce how personal God is and what kind of a relationship He seeks. He knows my inmost thoughts and has equipped me through the work of the Holy Spirit, to identify the whisper of indifference. Essentially the, "check yourself before you wreck yourself" reflex. And He has not only equipped me to identify the numbness, but He's shown me that through prayer and supplication, feeling can come out the victor.

With a new lightness of spirit, I journeyed to work this morning. As I settled in front of my inbox, tea in hand, I thought, "man I love oatmeal with brown sugar".

See, simple joy.

kiki san

Fan Mail

Dear Conan,

I've been a fan of yours since my 11th birthday party when my Mom let me stay up late enough to watch your show for the first time. You were my first crush.

When I was in high school, you got married. In Seattle of all places. I was happy for you, of course, because it's what you wanted, but devastated for me. Tell me, do you have any younger brothers or cousins who share your wit and height? If so, please write me back and I will provide you with my contact information as well as three character references.

I will loyally DVR your Tonight Show because I still can't stay up that late.

Forever yours,

kiki san

In praise of dullness

David Brooks, conservative columnist for the NYTimes, came to SPU back when I was a senior. He lectured on the importance of students getting out into the community to volunteer. Unfortunately I wasn't there to listen because I was just one floor below begging students to register to vote. I am still so bummed I missed hearing him speak because I have really grown from reading his op-eds over the years. I usually fire his articles off to a select few, but today I read his piece on the personalities of C.E.O.'s, and had to relay it to you, dear blog reader.

Recently a number of C.E.O.'s were polled, in a study called, "Which C.E.O. Characteristics and Abilities Matter?” The results pointed away from charisma, vision, listening and being a good communicator and instead pointed to the importance of attention to detail, analytic efficiency and (gasp) the ability to work long hours. Brooks sums it up by saying, "The C.E.O.’s that are most likely to succeed are humble, diffident, relentless and a bit unidimensional."

Diffident? Unidimensional?

When I envision myself in 15 years I have two divergent (at times, slightly convergent) lives. Life one: I am a very happy Mother and Wife, making up craft projects and treasure hunts for my curious kiddos.
Life two: I am a diligent CEO of a non-profit with a rolodex the size of Texas and a social life filled with benefits and lectures.

Reading Brooks' column, my eyes were opened to a new line of thinking. Maybe the rolodex and the benefits and the lectures aren't so neccessary in the case of life two. Maybe it is more important for me to be...boring.

In that case, I'll take life one:).

kiki san

Tree People

How many trees I've climbed and never wanted to come down from! I used to attempt to climb trees with my Bro, because he was, and still is, my hero due to his overt fearlessness. My little, spindly arms couldn't reach as far as his. He would climb up so high and I wanted to be right next to him, so I would holler for him to come get me (quiet and demure, I was not). And he would.

One tree, in particular, stands out in my memory. If I had known how to liken a "thing" to an "experience" at that age, I would have likened its "contents" to that of "the holy grail of my childhood". Because about three hundred feet off the ground (childhood memories seldom lie, I'm still convinced it was 300 ft), perched atop the steadiest branches, was the house of my dreams. It was the dirtiest, slipshod treehouse; but I loved it.

I really wanted to live in it, so much so, I would imagine the logistics of treehouse living and maintenance. Where I was going to cook, where I was going to sleep, where I would listen to my radio (because I knew my Momalade wouldn't let me have a TV in there; I didn't even have one in my room). All of this imagining in a treehouse no bigger than an 8' x 5' rectangle. Our friends who owned the treehouse moved away and I never got to play in a treehouse quite like that one, but I still think I would do a pretty, darn good job living in one of those modest rectangles...:).




kiki san

Lemon drop cupcake meet my family and friends. Family and friends, meet the only cake I like enough to dream about.

Miss Frizzle

Yesterday when I rolled out of bed in front of my full-length mirror I observed my hair. I thought to myself, "this mop looks like it's been through a strong nor'easter". It was day two, so no shower (still trying to save the world that way). I tried to lessen the crazy with a few passes of a curling iron, but after trying to reason with it, we (my hair and I) came to an impasse. At work I forgot all about my hair. My boss came in to my office and upon seeing me, paused in the middle of her sentence to ask, "are you ok?" Apparently my hair was giving off a "I'm having a rough go of it" vibe. I assured her I was fine and was, in fact, going for a more carefree look afterall...thank you.

Then in the late morning the plant guy Chris, walks into my office and says, "whoa, your hair looks different". Ok, now I know that if the plant guy, who himself has a pretty wiley 'do, is noticing, my hair really must be that bad. So I hop up and over to the bathroom mirror trying to get a good 180 degrees on it. I finally see what they've both commented on. I curled one clump of hair straight out. One curl was electrocutedly parallel to the floor while the rest of my wavy hair tamely hung around my neck. I messed with my hair a bit and then returned to my cube wisely laughing at myself. "Yes, this is bad hair, but it's nowhere near as bad as..."


Happy Friday!

kiki san

Kristof in SL

Nicholas Kristof is one of my heroes. Right now he's 4wheeling over West Africa with a sophomore in college who earned the opportunity to travel with Kristof and blog for the NY Times. While reading the student's blog (his name is Paul Bowers btw) about Sierra Leone, I couldn't help but feel like we shared alarmingly similar observations and feelings. If you have a few moments, I encourage you to read his thoughts http://kristof.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/05/13/win-a-trip-hope-in-africa/#comments.

In SL I was reading, "Hope dies last" by Studs Terkel. The book was largely disappointing (I'm just not captivated by the story of organized unions in the U.S., but Studs Terkel has a bomb name and some street cred due to a Pulitzer...not won for this book) but it sat on my dresser all summer with that beautiful title.

The inescapable poverty of beggars, preventable sickness endemic only to certain SLeonean populations, buried vitriol quietly waiting to be unearthed by the next civil dispute; all of these, good excuses to allow hope to evaporate. Dancing with Phoebe, little independent girls at the orphanage teaching me how to scale fish with a machete, Kebbie and Philip (two 7 year olds) making me a soccer ball with a tightly wound ball of tape just so I could play with "my boys", tucking orphans in at night who would drift off saying "I love you Aunty K, see you tomorrow"; all of these, better excuses to hold onto hope. Hope does die last. There are too many little things hope can inhabit for me to believe hope has any chance of dying.

I am grateful that I had the chance to experience hope in that hemisphere.

kiki san

Tiny Dancer

There are about a million songs I love. In fact I've been called out for crediting multiple songs as, "my favorite song of all time". I have 20 different Pandora strains and while listening to my Ben Folds station today, "Tiny dancer" started playing. How could I not play piano on my desk and mouth all of the words? That's got to be my favorite song of all time. Well, except for "Every little thing she does is magic" by The Police. That drum riff at the top of the song is...genius. When H and I saw The Police drummer (Stewart Copeland) rip that up live, I cried because I was so excited. I mean I love that song, but I also can't forget to mention that I was brought up singing every song on Garth Brooks' "No fences" album. "Friends in low places" made me an alto (or tenor, or baritone, I definitely bottom out on that "low places" part of the chorus). On the other hand, I think my favorite song is "Tricky" by Run DMC. Bro and I would hear "This *%&$# is my recital..." come on at dances and dig through the crowd to find each other just so we could rap together. "Africa" by Toto will always be up there. There's a lute solo in the middle, that's why.

I always want to sing my favorite songs, but the songs aren't always meant for my lady vocals (I can't sing "Appalachian spring" by Aaron Copland, because there are no words...silly...actually, I take that back, I do sing along to "Simple gifts"). At J's wedding I fulfilled a high school, sophomore year fantasy, she asked me to sing "Then you look at me" by Celine. To give you a bit of perspective on the depth of my excitement; I used to top our footstool (a.k.a. my stage) at least twice a week and sing that song with such intensity that I sometimes embarassed myself. ha.

Some crazy good honorable mentions:
"The Luckiest" by Ben Folds
"One" by U2
"Ocean Song" by Jessica McLean
"King of Pain" by The Police
"The Lighthouse Song" by Nickel Creek
"Baba O'Riley" by The Who

Actually now that I really think about it, my favorite of all time has to be, "It is well with my soul". Sigh. I love music.

kiki san

Surpassing expectation

Tuesday morning, oil change appointment. Shudder. Every time I get my oil changed they say I need this head gasket, and that spark plug, and a slight transmission flush. Easy to see why I shudder at the thought of getting my oil changed. So I decided to try a new place, a legit auto shop, not the usual Grease Monkey (who named that by the way?). I prayed pretty hard over this because I knew that my car would possibly need some Buzz Lightyear treatment (you know, "infinity and beyond"). I gingerly stepped into the new shop this morning only to meet the this kind guy named Charlie. I told him about the low rumble my car had started making on Saturday, I then demonstrated it and included some hand motions for effect. He said they would get to the bottom of it.

I was nervously waiting for them to come and brief me on what was happening with my car (which in my mind went a lot like a hospital visit where the news was anything but good). To my surprise, they brought me out to the garage and had me stand under my car to see what they had done. They explained everything to me (which was fascinating) and then told me I actually only had one thing I needed to fix aside from my tires (Momalade and Papa San, you will be happy to know I invested in new tires this morning:). I kept asking, "what else?" They said, "there's nothing else". I could have hugged those greasy boys in my work clothes, standing there under my car! Since they needed to keep the car for the afternoon, one of them drove me to work! Talk about service! I feel like I've finally found my mechanics. This is a big deal, because I had previously operated out of a spirit of fear when it came to fixing my car. Now I feel like I have some buddies down the street who can help me out. I tell you, these smaller answered prayers really strengthen my faith.

Charlie just called and told me I could come pick up my car. I told him I'd be in around 5:15, and he said "darn, I won't be here". I mean that's more than service:).

kiki san

Still

What a lovely word "still" is. Merely thinking of its meaning makes me in fact, still. It has the same ability to elicit effect or impression as an onomatopoeia (if we were in person I would start singing the Nihongo song "Ame, ame, fure, fure, janome de omukae, ureshina" because it's the best onomatopoeia song I've heard:). I so love being still that I scraped enough money together to invest in the most perfect, comfy, leather armchair I could find just to have a place to be still (I waited for it to go on sale. Yes, I am my Momalade's daughter). It was my first "big girl" purchase (thanks Dear C for lovingly bestowing that title). Every morning I sit in that chair with a cup of coffee and flip through to my pink satin bookmark which marks the end of yesterday's journey and the beginning of today's. Some mornings I ignore my bookmark and wander to old comforts, and am surprised by how new they seem (do I hear an "amen" G-ma?). Yesterday my Pastor preached a Mother's Day sermon about 1 Corinthians 13 which translated into this morning's wandering. As I read "...faith, hope and love. And the greatest of these is love" it struck me still.

People demonstrate love in so many ways, and I acknowledge that it should be demonstrated in trillions of ways (I think there are trillions of ways to love...:) But the most profound love I have ever felt has come from someone sitting still with me while I'm experiencing something words can't even come close to touching. Love is patient, love is kind, love does not envy, love does not boast...Love is sharing in the waiting, love is in the little things that show compassion, love is cheering the loudest for someone else's success, love is humble and gracious. Thinking about all of this love stuff in the context of the relationship I have with God, I can see how He has shown me love in every one of these ways. Every single one. I guess this is the reason why I go back to my leather chair every morning, which, btw, has a sweet indent in the shape of my behind by now so it fits me oh-so-nicely.

God is love,

kiki san & Rev Run

Tour de Kitsap turned into Tour de Magnolia

Plans change. Big deal. Usually I welcome changing plans, but I was particularly unhappy with my plans changing today. I had planned to do a preemptive Mother's day strike on the Kitsap Peninsula. The specs? Some yardwork with Momalade, happy b-day wishing for Aunt S, a chat with G-ma, and some delightful RV prospecting with Auntie T. Oh, and a stop-over at Papa San's where I was planning a ride on the Deere...but my plans were foiled! The trusty wagon I ride started making noises which caused me to turn down the power ballad (likely Celine) I was being moved by in order to listen to the engine. After listening to her in different gears, I decided the rational thing to do was turn around. Ack. I wanted to deliver my cards by hand and hug. Now I will be posting them, so the four of you please keep your eyes glued to your respective mailboxes.

But...(I love elipses;)

Today turned out to be s'wonderful.

I laced up my tennies, walked to Discovery Park, crocheted a pot holder in the sun, renewed my library card, checked out three books about dogs (the only breed they had a book on was Australian Shepherds, so I checked it out and made the man at the front desk an offer, if he could get the Cavalier King Charles Spaniel book, I would bring the Aussie one back. Fair trade. He agreed. Those librarians are so agreeable on tradesies), met up with A to read in downtown Maggie, hitched a ride back home and am now settling in to watch my FREE library check-0ut (French independent, "A Very Long Engagement"... I'm expecting uplifting...ha:).

Adieu my darlings,

kiki san

And then I realized why I'm here

Work, it's overwhelming. My list of to-do's has been growing without my consent. At one point I looked at it and its 29 lines cackled back at me. I couldn't stand looking anymore so I stole away to the kitchen to make my perfect sandwich. As I cut up the avocado and arranged my thinly sliced turkey in neatly folded layers, I almost cried. How did it get like this? Not my to-do list, but my job? I love my job, but I never feel like I've put in enough effort. At least not proportionate to the amount of work I produce. Just when I've polished off a project, five are waiting in a line like noisy little kids begging for attention. I got into global health because of the cry of my heart to make a difference in the world. But somewhere in the process "making a difference" morphed into making a dent in menial work. I don't want anyone to question my commitment, shoot, I don't want to question my commitment, but I need to get back to the reason I started doing this in the first place.

So I suppressed the tears (because I never want to let 'em see me sweat, let alone cry) and carried my sandwich back to my cube, slid the door closed behind me and ate in solitude. I opened my email and felt compelled to read an email about the ONE Campaign's Global Campaign for Education. I clicked through to the the video and tears started involuntarily coming. This was the reminder I needed http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ieQhZAGKYdo

If you just watched the video, did you cry too? Nothing gets me riled up more than the injustice of lack of access to equal education. Every child should have their minds opened through education so they can realize who God made them to be. I am so thankful that I was raised in a country that believes in the equal education of girls and boys. I have a deep longing to move to another place that doesn't value girls enough to give them an education, just so I can stand in the way of that injustice and tell the girls they are just as smart, just as courageous, and just as important. And maybe God will use me some day to do that, but for now, this is how I'm supposed to change the world. One expense report, scheduled phone call and website update at a time. Suddenly the 29 lines look a bit less reprehensible, I think I'm ready to give them another go...

kiki

There's something so ____ about blogging

May 7th, 2009, the genesis of my blog.

A lot of thought has gone into the creation of my own blog. What do I have to contribute to the blogosphere? Nothing really. Yet I liken writing in my journal to cheap therapy, so maybe writing for the world to see will be cathartic and lead to much more expensive therapy because of all of the bad unsolicited advice I'll get when people know my bid'ness. Also, FYI, I am expecting a gaggle of followers to tap "subscribe" when they see the arrogant title, and yes, I did actually say that...once...then immediately regretted it:).

I feel I must offer up more than a simple background on the blog, that's why I've come prepared with a story. Today I opened my office door and took a running lead and ninja kicked out my door. No one saw which was hugley disappointing. I hung my head low as I skulked off to get my third cup of earl grey. Cry for attention in cube land, maybe yes.

kiki san