YUM !! (Well-Suited Guys)

Something's Fishy

One of the side projects this year is having  to repair the pond at the Marriott, which sprung a leak on the waterfall part.  I pretty much have to take it all apart and replace the lining and possibly cement a new waterfall pathway, or at the very least, silicone the hell out of it so there's no loss of water when it's running.  With the water in it frozen right now, there was nothing much I could do yesterday with the repairing part.  It was my plan to fix that first before doing the clean up on the rest of the property this year.  With the idiot wedding planner last week booking an outside wedding for April 2nd in this area, it made it more of a priority to get going on it, but looking at the weather for the next 10 days, it's not supposed to get above 45 degrees, so I doubt that the wedding is going to happen, and neither is repairing the pond at this point.  How the poor fish can endure that cold water is beyond me... but you can see them in the picture in the middle of the pond, hovering together (orange Carp).

I spent yesterday in the creek over the hill, pulling big flat stones out of the water, then having to lug them up the embankment, load them into the truck and haul them to the pond area... then having to carry them about 100 feet because I can't get the truck close enough to where they're going.  These were the rocks that I was going to 'pave' the front of the pond with so that guests and employees who want to look in at the fish don't trample everything that I plant in front of the pond.  Three hours later, I was drenched from stepping/falling into the creek... and I managed to dig out the existing stones from the permafrost mulch around the pond and, giving up on 'paving' because it looked horrible, I just repositioned the stones around the edge, giving it a neat appearance, which will have to be good enough.  It's too cold to be messing with it right now, so I am back out into the parking lot today (where it's sunny and as warm as it can be (18 degrees here now)) for the rest of the week cleaning up beds and islands, getting ready to mulch early what I can to be ahead of the game, rather than behind like last year.  Taking over for the slugs that had the contract the year before gave me plenty of work to do that they didn't... but last year, I did a great Fall clean up, so I'm in good shape.

After yesterday, I came home not feeling well... cold, exhausted and flu-like, so I went to bed at 3:30 and short an hour or two of waking up here and there... I slept until 9:00 this morning.  Even though it's been about 80 days on the new diet and I lost 14 pounds while gaining muscle mass and lowered my body fat percentage to 16.2% from 20+%, it's obvious that I'm going to need to up my calorie intake to be able to do my job without passing out every day.

Growing Up With Mr. Yuk in (My Room Under the Bed) Pittsburgh

"Mr. Yuk" was conceived by Dr. Richard Moriarty at the Children's Hospital of Pittsburgh in 1971 to help children learn to avoid ingesting poisons. Living in Pittsburgh, the skull and crossbones previously used was not terribly helpful, due to the fact that the Jolly Roger was the mascot for the local baseball team, the Pittsburgh Pirates. The color green was chosen when Moriarty was showing different colors to students, and that color was christened "Yucky!" by a young child. Hence, the name and the color. The design for Mr. Yuk was created by Wendy Courtney Brown, then a 4th grade student at Liberty Elementary in Weirton, West Virginia, as part of a Pittsburgh Poison Control design contest. 


My Mom had these stuck all over her bottle of gin everything... so we were familiar with what we weren't supposed to touch, not that we really listened.  One of the first times I was left at home by myself, I was playing doctor scientist in the bathroom, looking through my underwear the medicine chest to find something to play with mix together.  My favorite was putting Methiolade into the toilet because it made the water pink, followed closely by Sani-Flush... the blue crystals that you poured in the toilet that.... wait for it... wait for it...transformed into this awesome blue foam.  When I had heard that ammonia and Clorox could knock you out, and possibly kill you... I knew that had to be my next escape from the hell I was living concoction.  Obviously I lived through it... and I guess it's true... that 'curiosity killed the cat', but not me.  Next up was Coke caine and aspirin and Coke and Pop Rocks, since we had heard that Mikey (from the Life cereal commercial who 'Likes It' up the butt) supposedly died from that combination (later turning out to be an urban myth).  I also used to dispense prescription meds vitamin C tablets to the kids in the neighborhood and would fake orgasms problems to get an IV drip of Morphine Apergum, the orange flavored gum that had ass aspirin in it.  Sometimes lemon drops would have to suffice as the antidote when we played this game on a cloudly day where you could only be in the shade.  You had to wait until the sun was blocked from a cloud to run to the next shady spot before the sun zapped you.  I think we called that game Run, Sambo, Run; the underground railroad of North Carolina 'shade people'.


More so, I was into porn fire as a child.  Once I had been awarded the title 'Little Miss Pyromaniac 1974' title from my Brownie Troop, Local 261 stumbled across a pack of wolves matches, that's all I needed to embark on a childhood of arson torching my model cars with a can of paint or hairspray and a match... or pouring gasoline on a raccoon fire in the woods, almost catching the whole woods on fire when the flame went up into the mason jar of gas and I instinctively drank threw it.  I even went primitive rogue with a blow torch magnifying glass and the little neighbor girl, Wendy Podsiadly some ants, scorching them while they were still trying to get away.  I can still conjure the smell of burning 12 year old girl ant in my mind today.


Those were the days.  Kids today have no idea what it means to be a kid, they grow up so fucked up fast... doing drugs and having sex and killing people on their Xboxes.  I was playing with my tea set and Ken doll  matchbox cars until I was around 16... and didn't have sex until I was 29 20.  I saw life as it was... there was no embellishment or exaggeration, and I carried those lies truths over into my subsequent and repeated therapy sessions living an abnormal adult fantasy life with my zipper eyes wide open.

And The Correct Order Is...

If you guessed C, I, F, B, G, E, A, D then H.... ding, ding, ding... you're the winner!  C, I, F, B, G, A, E, D then H would have also been ok, since picture A is actually from my Unarmed Security ID... when I lived in Vegas, I did a security detail or two for a friend of mine who owned a security company... I worked a NASCAR race and a Greek festival.  Fun times (not).

The first license was actually my 'junior' license, issued in 1981.  All I had was a moustache, and not a big one.  Picture I was in 1987, fresh from moving to Philadelphia from Pittsburgh... I was around 21.  I was very much into my Italian heritage, complete with gold chain, shirt unbuttoned and perm (round brushed out on the top and sides and curly in the back... it was all the rage).  License F was in 1997... and is the only time in history where I didn't have some sort of facial hair... and only briefly... for a few months.  E and A were both taken in Nevada... E when I first got there... and A after I had soaked up some of the desert rays... and gained some weight from the severe depression.  I had my hat on before that picture (A) was taken... which is why I have hat hair.  It seems that the only thing that changes on me over the years is the amount of hair on my face, degree of tan and lack of hair on my head.

Card Me

Because I belong to the Panera Bread Club... I get free stuff all the time... especially since I eat my Fuji Apple Chicken Salad there almost every day (organic chicken, blue cheese, apple chips, pecans, 520 calories).  I've had a number of breakfasty freebies that I never get a chance to use, so this morning I stopped there for a four cheese souffle that was outstanding, and then went to get my drivers license renewed.  Other than funerals and weddings, this is the only other time that I don't wear my hat, so I had to jack my hair all up to get some good height out of it for the picture.  When I was gayer, I used to dress up for the picture... now they're lucky when I don't show up in pajama bottoms.  Below are some of my drivers license pictures from the past... see if you can put them in chronological order.  Place your guess in the comments section.  (As a bonus... guess which drug paraphernalia I was smoking to sport the different haircuts).

Just Being Me

I have some friends that have some issues that they bury deep down, not noticing how they affect their own lives, let alone those around them.  They refuse to think anything is wrong with them.  And then there's me, who self-analyzes my every move and thought.  I don't have a retirement plan.... or a fund set aside... and I barely know what I'm doing next week, let alone in a few years, but I have become oddly at peace with that.  I coined the idea 'security in insecurity'... meaning that it doesn't matter what comes my way, I know that I will be able to deal with it and I'll be fine, always landing on my feet.  I think it's that philosophy that gives me the curiosity and thirst for life experience... collecting skills and seeing things and looking for a lesson in everything... and revelling in it once I have endured it.  I feel sometimes that this is the person that I was meant to be.  Falling down is a part of life, but getting back up is living... and I do a fair amount of both.

The other day, I went on a fantastic date with a great guy.  On paper, it all seemed to be the perfect situation... And while you'd think that it answered questions, it just brought more up.  I learned something about myself in the process...  I'm happy with my life the way it is right now.  Having been in a relationship constantly from the time I was 20 through 38 (and growing up thinking that was the only way), I have been forcing myself down that pathway over the last 4 or 5 years, unsuccessfully, like that was the place that I need to be to be whole or that it was a better place to be.  And somewhere in the middle of all that, I went from codependent to independent, and short of a few lonely times here and there, I have been happy. I don't think the progress I have made over that time period could have happened while still in a relationship, still going on the same path... still not happy. 

I don't see myself in one, nor can I envision what a relationship would even look like for me any more.  I enjoy my 'me' time... I enjoy spending time with my friends... I enjoy doing for my (pain-in-the-ass) family... I enjoy my traveling... I enjoy my job... I enjoy my freedom and independence... I enjoy my life.  This is who I should be.  I embraced a similar way of thinking regarding my career several years ago and I have been much more happier because of it.  And while this might change in the future and I may be waylayed with an occasional crush, I need to not beat myself up because I don't want something that I think I should.  I need to live in the moment, because that's the kind of person that I am, and most happy being.

I appreciated the support that I got the other day... and I can hear the 'oh brother, here we go again' comments coming.  I don't fit into a mold and I'm tired trying to stuff myself in there.  I have a lot of growing to do still and my life will be far from settled, at least as far as I can see in the near future... and that's ok.  I'm ok. 

A-Ha Moment

I can't see this Glee episode enough... Here's the pic that shows Blaine's 'a-ha' moment when he is watching Kurt singing Blackbird... and he finally 'finds' him.  A picture says a thousand words.  Sorry, it's been that kind of day... I got sucked into watching a three hour 25th anniversary performance of Les Miserables, my favorite musical for it's love stories. 

Matchmaker, Matchmaker (Don't Friggin' Burn Me)

I'm not sure if it's because people are selfish or they don't want to get involved or they don't want to see someone else happy... but very rarely does anyone stick their neck out to try to play matchmaker in this day and age.  I think with all that could go wrong (remind me to tell you how one coffee date turned into a 5+ year stalking incident, complete with drive-bys and cult suicide letter), people don't want to be blamed, and that's understandable.  Last night, said interaction occurred when a friend of mine  and a friend of hers set their gay friends up on a date. 

It's been so long since I've been on a 'proper' date.  Since the majority of guys that I've dated over the last couple of years have all been in their 20's, dates usually include me deciding on where to go (usually to a place that has video games and some sort of colored ball pit and a costumed mascot walking around handing out balloons), picking them up (since they don't have a vehicle or have a DUI or 5), paying for it (and packing the leftovers for their lunch the next day) and driving them home only to have to tuck them in and leave a glass of warm milk.  Ok, so I'm exaggerating... they only usually have 3 DUI's.

Last night, he picked the place and the time and I showed up.  He was bathed and had a pressed, button-down shirt on and was my age.  He had a job, a car, a house and a pet (that didn't live in a habitrail by his bed).  There were tablecloths on the tables and no bibs to be seen.  We chatted about various adult topics and had a ton in common... conversation flowed and there wasn't any video games played on any phones, no impromtu re-doses of Ritalin table-side and no crayons scattered about.  The restaurant closed and we hadn't even noticed that we were the last ones in there.  He paid for dinner completely... I didn't leave the tip or have to swap him any Legend of Zelda trading cards.  When we got to our cars, he presented me with a boquet of pink roses and greenery that was stunning, and probably the first time that anyone has ever done that on a first date with me in my whole 25 year gay career.  I didn't have to wait there for him to smoke a cigarette while he thumbed through text messages.  What was this odd occurance?  Could this possibly be what a date has been about all this time?  Whatever it was, I liked it, and he was not only handsome, but polite, smart and charming as well.

I haven't dated someone my own age in so long, I don't even know what that looks like in my mind.  No playing games in their frat-house apartment with other youngsters lying about drinking... no lying on their bed (mattress sitting on the floor) listening to some music I've never heard before... no sitting there watching them play Xbox.  And yet, I totally forget what a normal relationship looks like.  In my twenties and thirties, when I was hanging out with older friends having 8 course dinner parties, I acted much older then than now... in my khaki pants and plaid button-downs and slip-on loafers.  Maybe I was living life backwards?  Did I blow my serious relationship load in my late twenties and mid thirties?  Or maybe do I think that I don't deserve anything better than what I've had lately? 

I'm looking forward to our next date and getting to know him (and me) better.

Gin Fizz, Anyone?

Last night, Robin and I drove about an hour to see our friend, Robert's, musical recital down at WVU.  Three students, as part of their studies, had to compose a piece or two and then musicians performed them using various instruments; violins, violas, cellos, vibraphone, french horn, bassoon, oboe, piano and an assortment from the percussion grouping as well... I haven't seen a spread of instruments like that since band camp.  Not being partial because of our friendship, Robert's piece was the best.  It had a film noir feel to it, and a sort of 1959 housewife vibe; lively, then full of angst.  You could almost see the wife doing her morning chores to be a devoted wife and mother, getting her husband off to work and kids to school, but then hitting a dark spot mid-afternoon when she realized that her wifely duties had replaced her own dreams, but then reconciling (over a whiskey sours or ten) that her family was her dream. 

It reminded me of the 2002 movie, Far From Heaven, where Julianne Moore plays the devoted wife and mother, Cathy Whitaker to Dennis Quaid's Frank Whitaker, the ad executive husband.  Set in 1957 Hartford Connecticut, we see the families existence rooted strongly in family values and social etiquette, until it all goes awry.  After Frank get a case of the wandering eye and goes poking around the wiener buffet and wants to go up for seconds, he then has to deal with his full-on gayness and how that would affect his family, job and social standing.  Meanwhile, Cathy, trying to keep a brave face, turns to the comfort of the colored gardener and falls madly in love, entangled in their taboo tryst.  You can't make this shit up... coming out... interracial love... gay love.... Harvey Wallbangers at 11 a.m. at the office with a pack of cigarettes... I'm surprised that Jackie Collins wasn't all over this shit way before this movie came out.  Anyway, point is... the music captures the 1950's feel for the dramatic.  Below is a piece from the movie... it gets really moody around 2:00.

Up and At 'em, Atom Ant

Today feels like a the product of a couple of days of cleansing.  Not only is it a completely sunny day, going up to the mid sixties, but I feel somewhat better as well.  And with a few days of lying in bed giving in to the various things bringing me down (being sick and some romance issues), I'm ready to get back up again and keep going.  I'm off to join Julie for a quick lunch, then on to the Marriott to do my walk thru to get a good idea of what the next month is going to be like and get myself organized for the attack.  After that, I'm heading to the gym to get back into the swing after being off for a few days.

Happy St. Patrick's Day... Get Your Drunk On!

American Idol Update

Bottom Three:  Naimi, Haley and Karen.... Bub-bye Naimi.

Is That a Banana In Your Pocket...?

The Kiss

Full of Glee

Last night's episode of Glee proved satisfying on so many levels.  Not only did the New Directions win regionals after all their hard work and slushy-endurings, but Kurt finally found love.  It's been a long road, changing schools, getting closer to Blaine then watching him almost fall for Rachel and all but giving up before it happened but, as always, love prevails.  Well, on TV at least.  When Kurt was singing Blackbird, you could see the 'a-ha' moment that Blaine had in his eyes... and his smile (the place where I look for it in my hopeful suitors).  It was an incredible moment not only in the name of love, but the kiss as well for the good of the gay 'cause'... you couldn't help feel something and cheer them on.  Darren Criss (Blaine) is pretty dreamy... if all boys were like him, what a different world we'd live in.

The question that I have to ask myself in my situation is whether I am attracted to unlikely, messed up situations or do they somehow find me?  Like the old unanswered question about the chicken and the egg and which came first, I don't think it really matters.  Situations just materialize for me... a boy with a drug problem... another that's about to accept a job in NYC... another that lives halfway across the world that would rather whine about lost love than fight for it... another that's in a relationship and moving... and the list goes on.  And while I'm far from perfect and have my messed up situations and philosophies to contribute, it just seems that the idea of a normal situation just isn't out there at this day and age as it was in the past.

I've been going through some things over the last 3 or 4 years, but I finally feel like I'm ready to open up again and, with several recent attempts, give my heart to someone.  And not just anyone, mind you.  The way to my heart has always been through my head... and the best way to capture me is through my mind, so when I get that connection, and it's followed by a passionate kiss... or a hand holding... the deal is sealed.  Being able to talk to someone via 10 different modes of communication has taken the place of going on a date.  Instead of planning a date and going, you can have 100 dates in the meantime and you get right to the core of someone immediately, provided they are telling you the truth.

Having the blog helps and hurts me.  It allows me to put myself out there like a giant profile... exposing every part of me which helps people get to know me, good and bad, with nothing to hide.  The problem is that by the time that I know just a little bit about them, they know a lot about me and are possibly interested... and then I can't get close enough to them to learn if I like them before they are at a different point in the process.  So, I basically try to keep them at arm's length and before you know it, I just have to run away.  It also sets me up for criticism... and while other people are keeping their issues and thoughts in where they are safe from being picked apart, mine are right out there like a billboard on a major highway.  Some people are afraid of me... some people don't know how to take me... and sadly for me, that leaves me sometimes with people just wanting to step up to the plate to take a crack at me, like I'm some baseball pitch.  It all leaves me very lonely.

My most recent attempt started out as friends, but got quite serious after talking and sitting in front of each other.  I had an 'a-ha' moment.  Sadly, this person is in a relationship that seems to be somewhat broken, looking to me for the things that he should be getting from his partner but obviously isn't.  I want to just shake him and tell him to wake up... and it's a little more complicated than all that... but is it?  With how hard it is to connect with one person out of billions in the world... and feel every single thing in return... and then to let the passion and connection go without nurturing it into something beautiful is such a waste.  On the other hand, I want someone that appreciates who I am, what I have to offer and I don't deserve and won't accept anything less.  Considering some of the crazy parameters I am willing to endure to give someone a chance, we know that I'm not just too picky.  I understand that love isn't simple and has it's challenges.  I'm not expecting the white limo to pull up, the doves to be released and the music to start playing.

I've gone from being shut off completely for years.... to two or three connections recently, and some misfires.  I'm not trying too hard, in fact, I'm not even looking... they are finding me.  But I know I've made progress and I'm on the right track.  I'm feeling again, and that's an important step.

Give an Inch, They Take a Year

I've always been the kind of person to ignore symptoms of illness, hating to give into not feeling good... hating to take any kind of medication and, with not having medical insurance, hating to pay a doctor to sit in the waiting room watching daytime TV when I can get it at home for free, and I can watch the progrums I want to watch.  Despite all of that, that's where I spent my morning, the first day of my Marriott contract.  At some point in Cancun, I felt a little chest congestion and ignored it and it went away.  Then I felt a little weird at the beginning of last week and ignored it and it went away.  Then I woke up in the middle of the night spitting lugies the size of Rhode Island... along with some other symptoms... and decided to just give in to it (with a lot of prodding from Robin).  Turns out I have my regular Rhinitis Sinusitis and was put on a Z-Pak of antibionics (meaning that they suck the bionic life out of me, like the doctor did to my wallet).  With my severe allergies, my nasal passages swell and close at night, so when I get an infection, it just sits up there until it's unblocked and can drain.  So it looks like it's just me, my woobie and a few movies for me all day.

While at the doctor's office, I figured I'd get all my freebie stuff from him... a pocket full of tongue depressors, a blank prescription pad, a stethoscope (they leave them in the examination room like a hotel does with fancy soaps and a shower cap for you to take, right?)... and have my blood pressure, weight  and height checked... and I was surprised to see/remember that I'm 5'11", not the 5'10" that I had in my mind for so long now.  When your head is filled with useless nonsense, at some point you forget shit... hell, a few years ago (for a whole year), I thought I was a year older than I was until a friend pointed it out.  Now, I know you're thinking 'what's an inch in the scheme of things except in horseshoes and hand grenades'... and, true... with some back-combing and some teasing, I can get a good 7-8" of good height on my hair on a fairly non-windy day with low humidity in a low altitude setting with a half can of Final Net... but where it comes into play is my body fat %.  With the extra inch, my body fat went from around 18% down to 17%.  Not exactly worth $90 for ten minutes with the doctor... or as valuable as gaining a whole year that you thought you lost... but good news, nevertheless.

Before, After, After and After

Here I am at day 65 of the eating and working out changes that I've put into place and I can honestly say that it wasn't that difficult to accomplish.  It's a part of my lifestyle now, which seems to be the key, and I'm having no problems staying on track.  Here are some of the changes in me:

- Went from above 190 lbs to 177 currently
- Decreased my body fat content from over 20 % to 17.5% currently
- Radically changed my diet and eating habits, cutting out most carbs, candy, sugar, pop, etc. and reduced my appetite
- Dropped back down to a 31 waist size from 33, sometimes 34
- Hit the gym at least 5 times a week, increasing my strength and moveability as well as heart rate
- Drastically changed my outlook, sociophobia, depression, energy level, self-esteem and focus

Again, I was lucky to have the time off needed to do this, and while I promote this lifestyle change, you need the focus, dedication and time, mostly, to do it.  I never thought that I would be able to concentrate on doing something for myself without feeling guilty about it.  And while I've made good progress, I'm not done yet but I never thought that I'd see abs again at my age. 

Below are the final before and after pics... again, not really capturing the change that well since I should have taken side shots.  I've closed the comments on this post because, as I said, despite having no problem bringing light to my shortcomings, I am embarrassed with compliments and always have been.  It's been a huge step for me even to post these and other shirtless pics.  Thanks to everyone for your belief and support.  I hope that I've been motivating.

Back In The Saddle

I dread the winter months.  Not so much because of the cold and snow, but because of the sense of isolation.  Spring and summer offer more room to breathe... throwing the curtains back and opening the window... getting outside... more sunlight.  Being depression prone, it's a tough period to overcome and my line of work only perpetuates that.  Not working from Dec 1 through April 1 isn't as posh and fun as everyone might think, despite my taking some trips here and there.  It's a real mind-fuck for me to stay focused, not feel like a slug and be productive... too much time to think is a recipe for disaster and the beginning of a spiral.  This is the first winter that I haven't been on depression meds and I can honestly say that it went well.  Maybe it was because the winter wasn't as bad weather wise or as cold... maybe my trips broke it up for me... or maybe I'm just at a turning point in my mind, which is a welcome sign for someone who doesn't have much control over what goes on in their head.  Being focused on working out and losing weight, and actually accomplishing that really helped me a great deal.  It was time well-spent and was more valuable than getting a part-time job to stay busy as I sometimes do.  It changed me, forever, I hope.

Tomorrow is the first day of my contract at the Marriott.  It's supposed to be sunny, as it is today, and I will welcome the change and the opportunity to get my hands dirty.  The next several months will be busy for me, getting everything ready, dealing with 75 yards of mulch to spread, planting 600 flowers, etc. as well as several other projects that I have going on, like a few decks to build for friends down at camp.  I'm also looking to take on another big client, which will keep me busy... perhaps my townhouse community (which is still in the works).  My 12-14 hour days will be back and I'm excited, although not at first, considering that it could still snow.  The trick when I'm back in it full-swing will be to not fall into bad old eating habits out of time constraints and making it to the gym to keep up what I've been doing.  I don't think that I'll have a problem.  I really do feel like a different person.

Bean Town

On our bus ride to Xplor in Cancun, part of the in-flight entertainment (picked by the Mexicans as a guess as to what Americans would love to watch, I suppose) was a really stupid move called Rat Race (Cuba Gooding was in it, that should have been the give-away that it was going to be horrible)... and 4 episodes of Mr. Bean.  Not being one for British humor (sorry John), I have never seen any of the episodes previously.  Growing up with my Dad and brother watching Benny Hill and the likes of The Three Stooges, I had my fill of hooter slapstick comedy as a child.

I don't know if it was because we were trapped in a small bus for an hour and a half with strangers driving through the barrio and outback of the Yucatan Peninsula and I was trying to fixate on anything but those factors and the impending possibility that I could wind up in some jail with a big cell mate named Chico... but it was pretty funny, actually.  Oddly, and possibly coincidentally, Mr. Bean, the actor, was in Rat Race as well.  The point to all of this (which is moot now), is that I really liked the theme song to the show, which is Ecce Homo Qui Est Faba.  It's Latin and translates "behold the man that is a bean", and somehow that has some religious connection that I'm really not interested in knowing.  Anyway, that was the translation, rather than my first inkling, which was "look at the gay man who is fabulous", as it sounds and looks like to a third year high school French student.  Regardless, it's quite the lovely chorale piece...

In My Opinion

With 25 years in business management, I've always been the type of person to look at a situation and be able to quickly assess it, come up with a plan and act upon it to fix it immediately, if not instantaneously.  At one of my jobs, I had to take a personality test that was developed by the Gallup people called the Strength's Finder.  After a barrage of questions, the results are based in the ideal that, rather than try to change your weaknesses, concentrate on your top 5 strengths.  Mine were ACTIVATOR, ANALYTICAL, COMMUNICATOR, COMMAND and RESPONSIBILITY. 

I've often been criticized for not listening thoroughly to someone's problem and my being able to 'decide' is labeled by others as hasty or that I couldn't possibly have all the facts before my summation.  In the past, I've tried to force myself to listen to the whole situation as an exercise in patience, but I rarely would come up with a different assessment than if I did it quickly.  My mind just works that way.  When I meet someone, I am immediately sizing them up in my head on how they would fit into my life and vice versa.  When I am in a bad relationship, I am not the kind of person to just explode with a bunch of pent up stuff; I've already been assessing throughout, and most of my ex's were quite surprised when I left, having made the decision prior to them starting to pay attention to the warning signs and speeches I was giving.  The same happens when I am listening to someone who comes to me with a problem.  I feel I have good insight and can quickly give my opinion, one that I very rarely regret, go back on or change.  I've always wanted to be a therapist or psychiatrist, but often wondered if I'd be able to sit there and listen the whole time... plus, I'd make no money by only billing 5 minutes at a time.

With traveling lately, I've had a hard time getting caught up with everyone's blog that I read, which has become a large list at this point.  I like listening, and while I do comment, I like the listening part in this situation because it allows me to hear all of it without feeling like I have to reply before the end, especially without having the person in front of me to interrupt.  You can actually learn a lot more that way... and it's not like I'm walking through a company solving problems one after another after another like I've done in my previous career track.  And so I read about chickens, and living in the woods, and southern hospitality, and crocheting and unicorns.... and it's all wonderful... music to my ears, even.

These are the descriptions of my 5 top traits... which are eerily so describing of me it's scary.  For those that really know me, it'll be interesting to hear your feedback on whether it's me or not.  (click, then click again for magnified view)