Jungian Archetypes

I took a personality test thrice today. The definitive one if you will. Turns out I'm actually an ISTJ as opposed to an INTJ or INTP as I previously suspected.

Fucking Hotel AC Units...

There must be a ghost in the machine cause the fucking AC Unit was rattling off like Scrooge's business pal in A Christmas Carol. My theory is Toucan Sam paid me a midnight visit and accidentally opened his stupid mouth and spat his disgusting and foul Froot Loops all over the ventilation. Maybe a mouse got caught in the fan. Then the bones were ground up somewhat, at least to which point where they were small enough to be blown around by the fans. Now they clatter against the housing. Ceaselessly.

Oh yes, today was another fun day spent at Sterling. It kind of bothers me that I have to be on site when my work doesn't require it, but then again I feel I can get more done when I'm not being distracted by the asinine conversational styling of my roommates (Nubs) with his asinine accusations being tossed about like so much rice at a Massachusetts rainbow wedding. I've also caught wind of another, more sinister (than a pride wedding) event. Matt's car, she is dead. More accurately, he can't put her in reverse so now she sits and waits to be hauled off to the scrapyard. It was about time the old bitch died, but it annoys me that I paid insurance on the fucker to watch it choke on its own fluids. Oh well, such is life. Unbelieveably, I've written in this thing two days in a row! I feel like I should celebrate. Maybe I'll get a six pack tomorrow for my drive home.

IF ANYONE EVER DARES TO FLAG ME AS OBJECTIONABLE I WILL VOMIT PISSBLOOD DIRECTLY INTO THEIR EYES

Icy Tundra Redux

Snowboarding is hard fucking work. I went again today and my legs feel like they're going to fall off.

Now that I actually feel like finishing this...

I Started the day off on the bunny slope slowly sliding down the ice slicked bank. 2 o'clock came around. I was scheduled for another beginner's lesson. I assumed it would be more of the same, boy how wrong I was. Matt was our instructor's name and it was clear he wanted to teach us snowboarding no matter the cost to his sanity. This man was tenacious, but totally supportive in light of the awful fuck ups and general lack of coordination I displayed on the snowbanks. "Heels up!," he would call. My feet would do the opposite. "Toes up!," he bellowed. Once again my body knew not what it was doing and I ended up with cross shifted weight that made me topple over. This toes and heels business was not covered in my previous lesson, and I was not prepared for the sheer amount of trauma it was to put on my delicate calf muscles. We practiced this not altogether trivial pursuit for about an hour, until he suggested we hit up the slopes. A predictable mixture of excitement and trepidation entered my gullet as I skated toward the lift gates.

The first thing I noticed was the fucking lift chairs whizzing up and down the hill like Macauly Culkin being chased bees. Matt told us not to worry, as they slowed down quickly after hitting the boarding platform. This turned out to be true and I did not receive a concussion by blunt force lift chair trauma, but did feel a strong connection with Ann Darrow. I nervously looked out over the tundra while attempting to ignore the colossal weight of my snowboard threatening to pull me to the icy waste when I spied the mountain top. From here the misery would only increase.

Snowboarding down a mountain is not a trifling ordeal. The son of a bitch is a slippery mistress, which makes something as rudimentary as standing a struggle of Sisyphean proportions. I fell. Oh god how I fell. Toes up, ass down. Heels up, ass down. I fell and got up and fell and ran out of breath and got up and fell. The whole time I was falling, Matt stood there helping. That man had the patience of a saint. In the end, it paid off, I actually figured out the "heels up" part and made it some way down the mountain before falling over myself and scraping up my back on the ice. I think I almost died once from collision with a sign held up by PVC pipe, but that's for another day. I reached the bottom, thanked Matt for the understanding and pity he showered upon me, and headed into the locker room to change.

I have to say, for those few precious seconds where I wasn't picking myself up off the snow I was having fun. When you get some speed it's fun and scary and exhilarating all at the same time. That being said, I don't intend on taking the lift on my next visit.

Braving the Icy Tundra

I went snowboarding on Sunday, though I neglected to mention this till Thursday, as is usually the case since I am so inconsistent in updating this thing. The interesting thing about snowboarding is the fact I would like to keep trying it. I would say this is one of the few outdoor activities (apart from swimming) I would actually like to do on a regular basis. It makes you sore as hell, sure, but it also elicits a feeling unmatched by any other I've experienced. It's tough, no doubt, but this time I would like to keep pushing myself to improve rather than abandon the tract as I was want to do with physical activities before. Maybe I'm just trying to make up for lost time when I was younger, I dunno. I think I have more balance than I give myself credit for, since falling mainly happened only when I attempted to stop. Turning is not quite second nature, but for never snowboarding before in my life, I felt I could have done much worse. I didn't hit anyone or anything, and usually only fell because it was easier to do than stop. Next time, I gotta see if they have half-sizes since the 10s I picked up hurt like a motherfucker. If not, perhaps 11s would be just perfect for me. Since then, I've played Rock Band at both Kyle and Ron's place and must say if I had room for it, I'd definitely own a copy. That being said, it won't become a reality until either someone moves out, or I get a place of my own.

A place of my own, yes, I've often though about this. Perhaps this is where I should place my thoughts for future review. My roommates, for all their faults, are definitely some of my best friends. Moving out would make things considerably more boring as I would lose the spontaneity of my current situation. The flip side is the increased living space and freedom. I could arrange things to be very feng-shui, I could do anything I wanted nearly whenever without worrying about what my roommates are doing, and possibly even get a pet. Plus, maybe I'll finally get a girlfriend, and if she comes over I won't have to worry about the place looking less than stellar, though I doubt I'd date a girl who'd dump me for a messy apartment in the first place. Just more considerations to throw into my increasingly deep pot of doubt.