This is absolute genius

11 08 2010

This girl should not have any problems finding another job…

Pity it’s a hoax but it’s a very entertaining one 😉



6 08 2010

Last night I had a dream that I was boiling the kettle. According to this means the following:

To dream that something is boiling, represents transformation and/or sacrifice.  There is something that you need to get down to the heart of. In particular to dream that water is boiling, suggests that you are expressing some emotional turmoil. It also may mean that feelings from your unconscious are surfacing and ready to be acknowledged.

Or it could mean that I really, really like tea. Either way.

Personality Tests… bollocks or accurate?

22 06 2010

Apparently my personality type is ENFJ. I am a teacher.

I know this is ridiculous, but this is a very accurate snapshot of my personality. I’ve always though personality tests were ridiculous and a waste of time but since stepping into the role at 2Funky all of the elements talked about in that article have come into play. It’s frightening as it highlights all the key points of what makes me tick, almost exactly.

Key points below:

ENFJs are people-focused individuals. They live in the world of people possibilities. More so than any other type, they have excellent people skills. They make things happen for people, and get their best personal satisfaction from this.

ENFJ’s are so externally focused that it’s especially important for them to spend time alone. This can be difficult for some ENFJs, because they have the tendency to be hard on themselves and turn to dark thoughts when alone. (Stop reading my mind!)

Living in the world of people possibilities, they enjoy their plans more than their achievements. They get excited about possibilities for the future, but may become easily bored and restless with the present. (Ahem… travel plans…)

ENFJs have a special gift with people, and are basically happy people when they can use that gift to help others. They get their best satisfaction from serving others. Their genuine interest in Humankind and their exceptional intuitive awareness of people makes them able to draw out even the most reserved individuals. (That’s why I work wit dem yoot yo)

ENFJs have a strong need for close, intimate relationships, and will put forth a lot of effort in creating and maintaining these relationships. They’re very loyal and trustworthy once involved in a relationship. (Again very true…)

An ENFJ who has not found their place in the world is likely to be extremely sensitive to criticism, and to have the tendency to worry excessively and feel guilty. They are also likely to be very manipulative and controlling with others. (Good thing I have found my place temporarily or who knows what sort of evil manipulator may have surfaced)

In general, ENFJs are charming, warm, gracious, creative and diverse individuals with richly developed insights into what makes other people tick. (This makes me feel warm inside) This special ability to see growth potential in others combined with a genuine drive to help people makes the ENFJ a truly valued individual. As giving and caring as the ENFJ is, they need to remember to value their own needs as well as the needs of others. (Really true – I often forget to do stuff for the benefit of myself rather than other people. But as a Libran I’ve developed the balance of selfishness and giving. I think.)

Jungian functional preference ordering:

Dominant: Extraverted Feeling
Auxiliary: Introverted Intuition
Tertiary: Extraverted Sensing
Inferior: Introverted Thinking

(Don’t know what this means but it sounds sciency so thought I would include it to look cleverer)

I always thought personality tests were a load of bull, because they change with your moods and state of mind at the time of taking the test. But then I answered 60 questions in about 3 minutes (actually 5 as my mouse got stuck on a biscuit crumb) and it has got me pegged. Not exactly as everyone develops differently but it is pretty damn accurate. Frightening but insightful.


13 06 2010

I had a dream last night that I was getting married to someone I didn’t know, then one of my young people turned up needing help and I couldn’t find my pants to answer the door. Analyse that.

My sister’s blog is amazing

8 05 2010

Read it here

I Have Something Great to Reveal!

3 05 2010

A new film I’ve been working on with Vijay… check it out. Honestly, it is brilliant 😉 I am the new hero of Sweden!

100th Post

18 06 2008

Having recently rediscovered poetry, it’s only fitting the 100th post is a poem, by a lovely chap called Jacob Sam-la Rose.

There are a million grains in a 20 kilogram sack of rice.
Give or take. It’s a hard enough number to imagine,

the kind that slips through the mind’s fingers, like digging
your hands in that same sack, trying to feel

for individuals; the kind of counting that surpasses
fingers, bigger than the mind’s computational eye,

like the full, unending girth of sky, like death,
the kind of threshold you concede

and take for granted. Imagine the sum
in eleven of those sacks, and I’m trying to find a way

to make that number real, like how many pots and how long
it might take to cook that much rice, and still retain the detail

of each swollen grain; a real, fleshy equation that might capture
the percentage of wastage, the amount that would fall

and be forgotten even while trying to keep count,
the appetite that might be necessary to take it all in.

In a lesson on trying to make the abstract more concrete,
one of my students, a Guyanese boy, late teens,

shares a draft in which he’s counting
the breaths of his sleeping girlfriend.

He’s met her father, shook his hand –
weeks later, the girl explains

that her Akan blood arrows back up to royalty,
that the boy is the son of a slave,

that there is no future for them, only a past.
I understand that the counting makes it easier,

lends a sense of a narrative, a march into the future
of something as simple as breath, in the face of something

so large it blots whatever light he’d been drawn by,
but it’s not working, and as much as I try,

I can’t suggest anything to make the poem any easier,
until he offers a resolution: a memory

of sitting on the sea wall in Georgetown, facing the Atlantic,
following the darts of sunlight riding the backs of waves,

wondering where each began, how each follows
the heels of another as they furl

towards wall or shore, how he can only understand
as much of it as his eye can drink in,

how the rest, for him, is a mystery