Quickly– before I finally recycle the last of these letters, check out my high school’s awesome reward for achieving Honour Roll status:

It’s a tough call– which is better: My photo on the wall or a big juicy BUCK to spend at the cafeteria? Hmm….

Luckily we didn’t have to choose between the two. That would have been a pretty painstaking decision. (Ed. note: ONE DOLLAR, BABY, ALL THE WAY!)

PS: Because I am an incurable NERD, I had kept all 12 of these letters (one for each report card!) for OVER TEN YEARS, in a special binder, with each of them in their own special plastic sleeve… to keep them protected? (I guess?) And watch, now that I have finally disposed of them, the report card police will show up at my door and demand proof of my high school honour roll status… which I will no longer be able to supply. Knowing my luck.

Sweet mother of crap, we have a lot of stuff. I have always known this on some level, but to tell the honest-to-god truth: up until recently, I had also made the rather unfair assumption that most of ‘our’ stuff was actually  Marty’s. Heh.

Judging by the horrid state of our tiny apartment, it would seem on the surface that most of the things, indeed, belong to Marty. There are canvases, wooden frames, paints, bicycles and bike parts, leftover harbour inventory, and an extensive photo album collection, all of which are definitely Marty’s. However, as I have just discovered (slow learner, ahem), I have a lot of stuff here too; mine just seems to lie festering beneath the surface until I gather up enough bravery to sit down and go through it all.

Case in point: the other evening, I decided I would go through an old Rubbermaid of binders and notes from school. I had originally kept all of these notes in case I chose to pursue a Ph.D. (ha!), but then I got tired of having the box around and figured there was no real point in keeping handwritten class notes from 2004 and articles that date back to the mid-90s. Even if I ever do go back to school, chances are my notes from a second-year Human Sexuality class won’t really help me out, anyway. (After all, I don’t exactly plan on writing a doctorate dissertation about the anatomy and physiology of the scrotum.)

So I dusted off the Rubbermaid and sat myself down for an intense session of sorting. I prepared 3 spots on the floor: one for recycling, one for confidential papers to be shredded, and one for things I would actually keep. Imagine my surprise when I opened the box and discovered not just my university papers, but class notes from junior high and high school. I had kept and stored papers from the early 1990s! Even more pathetic than that, these papers weren’t just shoved into a box when I was 12 and promptly forgotten about. No, no. I had actually sorted through all of these papers at different intervals in the past. Each time, I had recycled whatever had been deemed not worthy of storage. But all of these papers, still, had made the cut.  Yes, I’ll say it again: At some point, I had made the conscious decision to keep all of these things ‘just in case’. (Perhaps for when A & E biography comes a-knocking?) And now I was wondering what the hell sort of crack I was smoking when I chose to keep all of this crap…

The ‘to be recycled’ and ‘to be shredded’ piles grew quickly and exponentially, until they looked somewhat like the pile of pallets we saw for the Oak Bay bonfire. Seriously, they were huge. Had some university student took their recycling out at the same time we did, they would have been treated to a mass of well-written university essays on a wide range of topics: the feminist movement in communist Hungary, the pros and cons of comprehensive sexuality education in schools, the deeper meanings of works by Emile Zola and Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, and a nuanced analysis of in vitro fertilization techniques. An undergraduate degree’s worth of ‘A’ and “A-” papers, all free for the taking! Have at ‘em!

Mixed in to the recycling pile was a whole other assortment of random papers, ranging from my Grade 8 career fair notes to my hilariously bad application essay for the 1993-1995 Mayor’s Youth Advisory Council. (In it, I argued that mazes were ’safe’ and ‘fun’ places for the youth of Calgary to hang out… and this essay is what prompted the review committee to accept me onto the youth council! Suckers.) One Rubbermaid of papers later, my piles looked like this:

I managed to whittle the whole box down to one small binder of things to keep. (Plus my yearbooks… which I don’t really want to keep but feel bad about tossing. Thoughts?) I might look back on this binder in the future and wonder what the hell possessed me to keep it, but for now, I think it’s pretty safe to store its contents indefinitely. If not for A & E biography, then what?

You know, I used to think of myself as an all around ‘A’-student– somebody who excelled at learning. I was always on the Honour Roll in school and I automatically enrolled myself in the ‘advanced’ classes (and did well in them), so it just seemed natural to conclude that I was ’smart’.

Somebody kick me, will ya?

It’s (finally. ironically.) beginning to dawn on me that I am a painfully slow learner. Yes, I am adept at going through the smoke-and-mirrors ‘book smart’ motions and fooling y’all into thinking I understand something, but when it comes to actually learning things in the life lessons department, I tend to get a big F for Fail/Redo.

Two major things are happening in my life right now: 1. I am heading once again into my least favourite 16 weeks at work. 2. I am (finally) reading Eckhart Tolle’s A New Earth book, after letting it collect dust for months and months on my bookshelf. What I notice is that I tend to go through my weekday mornings full of angst and dread, anxiously thinking about the painfully busy weeks to come. Then I go on lunch and read a few more sections of the Tolle book, where I am reminded (once again) to live in the moment and to live life more lightly (i.e. to not take things so seriously.) I chide myself for losing my way (yet again), and I have a zen moment. I head back to my desk filled with peace, love, and good vibrations. And then everything I’ve ‘learned’ over lunch flies out the door as soon as I get a panicked e-mail from a coworker about something urgent that needed to be done yesterday. Rinse. Repeat. Rinse, repeat, ad nauseum…

I am totally appalled by this pattern (although I am getting better at simply laughing at it). I could probably quote you a dozen lines from the book, word for word, but as far as practicing them, actually living them? I can be laughably incompetent. F: Fail/Redo!

The other day, I was blown into a frenzy when somebody let her personal frustrations (totally non-work related) boil over onto me. I started thinking about how much I can’t stand my job during this season and how I should just quit already, leaving everybody scrambling at the busiest time of the year to fill the giant void left by Uber-Skilled, Irreplaceable Me.

Then I caught myself.

‘Whoa, whoa ego’, I chided. ‘Take a pill and give it a rest!’ But I was still unsettled.

I saw Marty after work and told him about my day, of course including the part about the totally unfair and uncalled for way I was treated. (See? Did I learn nothing?!) Marty, (bless his even-keeled heart), figured my anger was probably based on a mixture of the situation and my attitude about the situation, but wisely suggested we call upon our runes and tarot cards to see for sure. (Very smart man.)

So we pulled out our sacred bag of runes and I mightily asked the universe for guidance on my job situation (all the while secretly hoping I would pull the Quit Your Job And Go To Prague rune so I could call it a night). Haha– I am so naive and pathetic sometimes. Guess which rune I drew?

Nauthiz: Constraint, Necessity, Pain

The Book of Runes says that the Nauthiz Rune “represents the obstacles we create for ourselves as well as those we encounter in the world around us”. Ahem. [My ego, offended, said: 'Totally unrelated to my situation, but whatever.']

I continued reading:

“‘Don’t take this world personally’”, this Rune is saying… Clearly, there is work to be done on yourself. So take it on with good humor and show perseverance.”

[My ego, bristling, said: 'This clearly does not apply to my situation, but whatever. I must have accidentally drawn this random Rune by mistake. Obviously, I need to draw a tarot card as well to prove that this Rune was totally and utterly wrong.']

F: Fail/Redo!

(Truly, I have all the maturity and savvy of an ice cream cone. Also? I’m exaggerating my reactions slightly in this post for comic effect, but I really did reel and bristle a bit when I didn’t draw the “No Worries, You’re On Your Way To Winning The Lottery Anyway So Who Cares About this Work Shit?” rune).

Anyway, yes I decided to draw a tarot card too, to “see if it had any [different] suggestions” for me about my job (read: suggestions that would negate everything the Nauthiz Rune represented). And lo and behold, guess which tarot card I drew?

That's right, "Bondage!"

“This card indicates that you feel tied down to a situation… The truth is that you are free. Feeling this way and living in freedom could be achieved simply: shifting your mind-set or attitude…” Ahem.

So, a double whammy of consistent universal guidance. “Universe to Dana L.: Suck it up and suffer well.” Ah, feels good to have my ass kicked!

I ‘know’ these things in my (book smart) mind, and they resonate strongly with my yearning spirit and heart, but I’m obviously still learning (without a great success record) to live and practice these tenets in my everyday life, without taking them on as ‘difficult’ tasks or trying to ‘master’ them in any way. One step at a time, yes?

And there we have it: According to the universe, it’s time to live life less seriously and it’s evidently not the time to book my one-way ticket to Prague. Yet…

Happy New Year, everybody– It’s resolution time!

Last year, for whatever reason, instead of my usual lofty list of goals, hopes, and dreams for the new year, I made a simple list of three Things To Do in 2008. I wanted only to read more books, to go to the Gulf Islands, and to take a vacation. (Go big or go home, right? Heh.) Well, that’s all fine and dandy– after all, it’s easier to keep New Year’s resolutions if they’re simple and small– but this year, my resolutions are going back to BIG.

As usual, I have a plethora of things I would like to accomplish and/or stick to in 2009, ranging from the very mundane (e.g. I would like to learn how to swim) to the very deep and introspective. There is no question in my mind that this year, my biggest focus will be on developing and maintaining a spiritual practice I can call my own.

I resolve to honour my intuition and to cultivate a daily spiritual practice.

This might not seem like such a big deal for many people, but for me, it’s something huge. After all, I grew up very Catholic and then spent most of my teenage and adult life to date resisting organized spirituality in all forms (but especially the Christian and Catholic ones). For the most part, I was and have been hyper-critical of religious dogma, very skeptical of church and/or mass, and positively allergic to the words ‘Jesus’ and ‘Christ’, to name a few.

That said, I have always had respect and admiration for other people’s faith(s) and have been able to appreciate religious rites and rituals from the outside, just as a scholar appreciates her subjects of observation. I love visiting churches, temples, synagogues, and mosques, and I have an ongoing fascination with all sorts of religious icons. But for a decade or so, my own religious practices have consisted of reading a few new age books and nursing an earnest but vague sense of love and awe for something I call the Universe. So for me to feel drawn to a semi-organized form of spirituality again is a very big thing. At least it seems that way to me.

I will not be going back to church or reading the Bible again (and part of my new year’s resolution is to stop apologizing for that!). But I will be starting to meditate and chant regularly with a group of other like-minded individuals. Plus, I have enrolled in a course with Marty to learn ways of incorporating spiritual principles into everyday practices, and it is my hope that, throughout 2009, spirituality will become a less impersonal and fearful entity to me than it is right now (and has been in the past).

And you? What are your resolutions for 2009, if any?

I attended a free lecture at a local art shop yesterday afternoon. It was all about strategies for marketing visual arts, and I must say, it was fantastic! The speaker, Chris Tyrell, has written a book about making a living as a Canadian artist, and the lecture itself summarized some of the key means through which self-made artists can stay afloat in the all-too-choppy waters of the art and economic scenes.

After listening to this talk, I think I may be on to something.

A lot of what Chris spoke about struck a resounding ‘yeah, that really sucks!’ chord with the artists in attendance. For example, he mentioned to a sea of enthusiastic nods how most artists actually become artists because they are disenchanted with and/or incapable of doing actual business tasks (like accounting, writing, marketing, etc.) Everyone (except geeky me) concurred: spreadsheets suck! (I zipped up my jacket then so nobody could see my “I [Heart] MS Excel!” shirt underneath). He also talked about how it is much easier to speak highly about somebody else’s artwork than it is to praise your own. Everyone nodded again: nobody likes to sound conceited or stuck up!

So there I was in the audience, sipping my latte and wearing my new scarflette, hearing about things like artist statements, artist blogs, spreadsheets, mailing lists, and stories behind the artwork… and thinking to myself “hey! I know how to do all of these things, and I can actually do them well!” A light went on inside and a heart string sang.

Perhaps my six years in Communication Studies weren’t for naught, after all! (Though I do write a pretty mean “Dear lovely, Can you please pick up some kale for dinner tonight? Love, Dana, M.A.” note. Those have to count for something, no?)

Marty and I have talked about this art vs. business issue at length before. We are like a lock and key, he and I: he has the mad art skillz and I rock the COMS scene (in a way that only a true geek can). Mix in my newfound spreadsheet wizardry and Marty’s old school Vis Com training, and voila! We can be an unstoppable FINE ART MACHINE!!! He can pump out the paintings and I can manage the mail merges! Together, we can be awesome!!

The best news about this fresh plan to be the lone staff member of Martycultural Art (aside from it taking me out of my current job which is VERY STRESSFUL AT THE MOMENT) is that it dovetails completely with my alter-ego’s desires to make jam and be a rural pioneer. Just you wait: one of these fine days, I will be a lean, mean, fine-arts-marketing-and-jam-making machine! It could happen, right?

Well, it only took me a week to recover from making pickles and posting about it– whew! We should all be thankful that I never made it to the next 20 lbs of pickles this past weekend. That might have put me over the edge! No, no– Instead, Marty and I were too busy exhausting ourselves with preparations for Calgary. Yes, it’s true: tomorrow morning we head on out to our favourite place in the whole wide world: Calgary, Alberta. (If by ‘favourite’ we mean ‘we are obliged to go back there occasionally for business and family-related purposes and WHY CAN’T PEOPLE FROM CALGARY COME TO VICTORIA AND SEE HOW GREAT IT IS EVERY ONCE IN A WHILE?’.) Ahem.

Getting ready for Calgary is not our most enjoyable pastime (understatement of the year alert!). Indeed, I could think of many, many other things that I would rather be doing (toiling away under the hot, hot sun in a wheat field with a primitive sickle and nothing to drink comes to mind). However, we have some commissioned paintings to drop off out east (ha!), and it’s always nice to catch up with friends and family when we have the chance. (Next year, though, I’ve decided that I don’t want to use even one of my holiday days to go back to Calgary. Enough is enough! This year, I’ve only had 3 weekdays off where I have not been in Calgary. What gives? Calgary folk: consider yourself informed and also invited to come see how great a city Victoria is!)

Anyway, whenever it comes time to go to Calgary, Marty and I inevitably get stressed out. The plan is always to leave ourselves plenty of time to pack and otherwise get prepared, but things never go according to that plan. Nope. Last night, for example, although I was not pickling 20 lbs of cucumbers, I was running around our tiny kitchen in a cooking frenzy! I don’t even think I was visible to the human eye, I was moving so fast. I might have just been a blur or streak of savoury smells. And Marty– I don’t even want to tell you how busy Marty was. Let’s just say that we leave tomorrow and one of the commissioned pieces has yet to be completed. It’s close, but not quite. Stressed out much? Indeed.

So we’re a little busy and a little frazzled here at Chez Too-Many-Consonants-In-Our-Last-Names. No big deal. This too shall pass, right? BUT, just to get everything out in the open and off of my chest, in addition to the regular bag of stressors we’re dealing with right now, we’re also facing the fun but complicated symptoms of Marty’s chronic Lyme Disease. I’ve talked to a few of you about this condition before, but really, what better time to tell you all about Lyme Disease than now, even though I should be packing, cooking, cleaning, and/or doing something else altogether? I thought so, too.

Today’s Lesson Is About Chronic Lyme Disease:

Many of you might not know that Marty was bitten by a tick in 2002 (in the Czech, before I met him) and has since suffered from chronic (and oftentimes debilitating) Lyme Disease. Lyme Disease is called the Great Imitator, because its symptoms are myriad and can mirror anything from Parkinson’s Disease, to Alzheimer’s, to Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, to Fibromyalgia, to Syphilis. I know. For many people who have Lyme, it remains undiagnosed and undetected. And even if and when Lyme Disease is diagnosed, it is often misdiagnosed and/or treated incorrectly.

For us, Lyme Disease means persistent insomnia, coupled with extreme fatigue. We sometimes try to rationalize Marty’s long hours spent awake as ‘creative time’– and certainly, some of Marty’s most creative work gets produced between 1 and 6 am– but for him, a period of decent sleep during regular sleeping hours would be nothing short of a miracle.

For us, Lyme Disease means forgetfulness, fogginess, difficulty concentrating, and needing to write absolutely everything down. Absolutely everything– you should see Marty’s day timer.

For us, Lyme Disease means extreme muscle aches, joint pains, and an inability to flush out a build up of lactic acid. Sometimes we wonder if Marty should stop racing competitively (so that his muscles won’t feel so fatigued or like they are cannibalizing themselves, which is really what they are doing), but most times, we recognize that cycling is part of what keeps Marty sane. Hence, the cycling stays.

For us, Lyme Disease means lists. Endless To Do Lists that would take one hundred people one hundred years to complete. Marty is constantly making lists and then feeling defeated when he inevitably fails to cross everything off as accomplished. Yes, he knows this is not rational and can understand every argument against making these impossible To Do Lists. But he can’t help himself sometimes. The Lists persist. (And as somebody who actually really likes lists, I can say right away that these lists are not your ordinary, satisfying To Do Lists that keep everything in order and break tasks down into manageable chunks. No way. Some of the things on Marty’s To Do List include creating an entire series of 4′ x 6′ paintings and starting his own giclee production factory.)

For us, Lyme Disease means not being able to make plans too far in advance. Plans create anxiety and breaking off plans that were already made creates guilt. We’re not as antisocial as we might sometimes seem, I promise (usually, anyway!). We just have to be more spontaneous than meticulous and well thought out. That said, you can imagine how “exciting” it is for us to know well in advance that we are going to fabulous Calgary, Alberta. I will say it again: we are stressed!

Related to the point above: For us, Lyme Disease means dealing with my compulsive need to be on time (or more specifically, to be early) for appointments and plans. When we actually have made an appointment for something, I get anxious trying to be early and on time, whereas Marty gets anxious feeling rushed and pressured from me to be on time. We both need to chill out. Hence, the startling lack of definite plans in our timetables, save for a certain trip to a certain Calgary, Alberta come tomorrow morning…

For us, Lyme Disease means wondering how many of the changes taking place in your body and mind can be attributed to a tick the size of a poppy seed from many years ago, and how many of the changes should just be chalked up to things like ‘getting older’. Are you coming in fifth and sixth place in races now (instead of first and second) because you’re simply not as young as you used to be, or does that tick have something to do with it? Are you trembling because you’ve had 8 cups of coffee every day for the past 4 years of your life (exaggeration), or are your newly developed tremors and tics attributable to That Tick?

For us, Lyme Disease means that I’ve never known the real/full/true Marty, if you want to suspend your academic inclinations and believe in something like a persistent and real self. (Note: I wrote many an essay on the self as a discursive construction for my MA… my whole thesis even hinged on squandering the notion of a real and true self that exists ‘out there’ in the world, independently of people’s communication about the self. There I go again with my academy speak… Out damn spot, out!!). But I digress: Marty was bitten before I ever met him, and the impact of that bite started to effect him immediately. I am told he was an articulate, physically strong, and very bright individual with a razor sharp memory before The Tick. He still has most of these qualities and still is most of these things (and handsome to boot!), but things like his memory are noticeably fading. Even to me, who sometimes carries on like nothing is happening to prevent things from actually happening and manifesting. (I don’t want to think things like that into manifestation, you know?)

For us, Lyme Disease means feeling incredibly frustrated sometimes that things have changed. Things are constantly changing, we know, but not like this. Lyme Disease means feeling like you’re living inside the emptying shell of your former self.

For us, Lyme Disease means grappling with our inherent dislike of antibiotics and drugs on the one hand, and the idea that years of continual, heavy duty antibiotics might be the only thing that could make Marty better on the other. The usual 3 week course of antibiotics doesn’t work for everybody who gets bitten by a tick, Marty included. But could we really give him oral and/or intravenous antibiotics every single day for 2 or 3 years?

For us, Lyme Disease means knowing that even if we wanted to put Marty on a hellish (and extremely debilitating) regime of long term antibiotics, we’d be hard pressed to find a doctor who could support us. The mere notion of chronic Lyme Disease is extremely controversial in the medical community to begin with (many treat tick bites like mosquito bites), and some doctors in Canada and the U.S. have even lost their licenses to practice medicine for prescribing the necessary course of medication to treat chronic cases of Lyme. Now, the vast majority of MDs are very reluctant to even talk about Lyme Disease, let alone to diagnose and treat it properly.

(End of Educational Segment)

Obviously, things are not all doom and gloom, though sometimes it definitely feels more cloudy than sunny, even for an optimist like myself. The hardest part for me is to see the frustration that Marty experiences at times, without being able to help him in any meaningful way. Sure, I can be supportive and loving and make a mean vegetarian lasagna when the goings get rough, but when it comes down to it: I cannot rid his body of the tick’s influence, as much as I would want, like, or hope to.

The upside to all of this is that we’re both learning a lot (about the condition and each other) and helping each other to chill out whenever possible. I often catch myself getting anxious about nothing very important (like Oh My God It Is 12:00 and I Told So-And-So That We Would Be There At 2:00 pm and Yes, It Only Takes 10 Minutes to Get There and Yes, We Are Already Prepared but Yes, I Am Still Getting Anxious Hours in Advance). Then I remember the Big Picture and make a conscious decision not to sweat the small things. Usually…

And you know what? Sometimes just getting everything out into the vast openness of the Internet helps a TON to make me feel more at ease and able to take on life’s challenges. Like now, for example. I started out feeling just a *wee* stressed and just a *wee* anxious about everything ahead of me today, but now, I am READY to make our oatmeal and READY to run those morning errands! So without further adieu, I’ll bid you all adieu. And farewell. And goodbye. And all of those wonderful things.

I don’t know how often I’ll get me to the posting page while we are away in luxuriously fabulous *Calgary, Alberta!*, but please know that if I miss a few posts (or three or four), it’s because I am being fabulous and decadent in the Capital of Urban Sprawl, not because things are dismal or stressful. Just so you know. And (cue Bob Barker PSA moment), remember: When you are out in the woods, make sure you dress in long-sleeved, light coloured clothing and that you perform a thorough tick check when you come back inside. And if you find a tick, swab with rubbing alcohol and pull it straight out with tweezers, i.e. do NOT twist the tick! And also spay and neuter your pets, and so on, and so forth. Cough.

In Grade 2, I made the mistake of outlining to a classmate my secret system of ranking best friends. “You are my best friend”, I explained matter of factly. “Then so-and-so is my second best friend and what’s-her-face is my third best friend”. She stared back at me with a mixture of pride and apprehension in her eyes. “It means I like you the best”, I offered, hoping this would erase the confusion in her expression. It did. I was pleased.

Then my so called best-of-the-best friend went on to share my revelation to the teacher and the entire class during a watered down version of show and tell (it was less showing and more telling). “Dana told me that she likes me the best”, she boasted. “And then she likes So-And-So the next best, and What’s-Her-Face the third best. Dana and me are bestest friends”. I couldn’t bear to look into the eyes of So-And-So and What’s-Her-Face. A) I was too busy trying furiously to summon a black hole into the classroom so it could suck me away forever and B) I knew right away, in my heart of hearts, that even though telling somebody that they were my 96th bestest friend might have seemed like a nicer way of saying that they weren’t really a best friend at all, sometimes it might hurt less for the friend in question to be left out of the best friend ranking system altogether. And also sometimes? I should learn to keep my big mouth shut!

A random ranking system found its way back into my life the other day, as I found myself taking a personality test of sorts (even though I cannot emphasize enough how much I think tests like these are a load of crap.) But I digress. The test was 240 questions long, and for some reason or another, I devoted the requisite 5 or so minutes to plugging in my answers and waiting for it to churn out its results. (Obviously, if I thought these tests were worth anything of value or if my very future depended on the report that was produced, I might have given more than 2 or 3 seconds of my precious time to each question. As it stands, though, I flew through the questions and read through my profile analysis in less time than it normally takes me to eat breakfast. It was that important to me.)

This test is called the VIA Signature Strengths Analysis, and it was designed by a well known psychologist to reveal to the masses their Top 5 individual personality strengths. The idea behind the test seems like a nice one: if we know our strengths and skills, we can pay more attention to them and try to utilize them more often in group situations. As well, by focusing on and combining our strengths, instead of always pointing out and dwelling on our individual weaknesses, we can all come together in a very Kumbaya-esque fashion. And birds will sing, and baby bunnies will hop around in springtime joy, and the world will clearly be a better place. Seriously, then, why wouldn’t I take this test?

I was curious to see my Top 5 Strengths as measured by the nameless, faceless Psychology Machine. I imagined taking the printout into my next big corporate job interview and showing the well manicured executives psychological proof of why I, Dana, should be chosen as the next best thing. In my mind, I was picturing qualities like Discipline and perhaps Communication Skills to come out on the top of the pile of attributes. I’m disciplined, right? And of course, I pictured having all of the strengths that would be considered desirable to any decent employer who was hiring a few good people. This went without saying. And soon enough, the results were in. I eagerly scanned my printout and there they were:

My Top Strength: Gratitude

My Second Strength: Appreciation of Beauty and Excellence

My Third Strength: Capacity to love and be loved

My Fourth Strength: Curiosity and interest in the world

My Fifth Strength: Humour and playfulness

Um… is it just me, or are these kind of, shall we say, wimpy strengths to have as my top five?? (Not that I want to sound ungrateful or anything, especially seeing as my top strength is apparently the ability to take the time to express my thanks… Can’t undermine my number one strength now, can I?)

This is not at all what I expected to come out. Sure, I think it’s decent to have these sorts of attributes, and I certainly do take the time to appreciate the good things in life… but come on!

The worst thing (or best, in an ironic way) about the test scores is that it starts out only telling you your Top 5 Strengths. You have a look at them, you ponder a bit, you might feel a bit of pride, and then you might also wonder where the hell Communication Skills and Discipline are. And then, if you’re like me (curious and all interested in the world, as evidenced by my Third Top Strength), you wonder what your worst strength is. “Come on! I can take it– tell me how badly I suck!”

The rest of the printout does a curious thing: after the Top 5 Strengths, it goes on to list your Strength #6, Strength #7, Strength #8, etc.– all the way down to your “Strength #24″. No “needs improvement”, no “weaknesses” at the bottom of the list, just a happy and rosy picture of what a wonderful person I am. Um… JUST COME OUT AND SAY IT!!! If the test is ranking 24 different abilities across hundreds of different people, something tells me they can’t all be strengths for every single person. At some point, as you’re moving down the list, there has to be a line to cross where the measured strengths don’t become so strong anymore… Right? And these thoughts are in spite of my proven propensity (as measured by the very reputable VIA Signature Strengths test) to “try to see the light side of all situations” (see: My Fifth Strength). Seriously, though– they can’t all be strengths, methinks.

So my Top 24 Strengths (out of 24) continue as follows:

Strength #6: Love of learning. This one is true. I am, and always will be, an undercover academic in all aspects of my life. I can’t help it.

Strength #7: Creativity, ingenuity, and originality. Why couldn’t this one have been in the top 5?

Strength #8: Kindness and generosity. Yeah, yeah, yeah– we get it. I’m such a kind, loving, and nurturing soul. Cancer with Cancer rising. I can be the Workplace Mom.

Strength #9: Spirituality, sense of purpose, and faith. Faith in most things, except in the results of personality tests.

Strength #10: Hope, optimism, and future-mindedness. This, in spite of Eckhart Tolle’s admonitions to live in the Now. Oops…

Strength #11: Zest, enthusiasm, and energy. Zest?! Who would ever put something like that on a resumé? Enthusiastic, yes, but zesty?! Sounds like a pizza sauce.

Strength #12: Leadership.

Strength #13: Perspective (wisdom). Because I am not one to take things out of perspective. Ever. (At the very least, 13 times out of 24, I will have perspective and wisdom.)

Strength #14: Fairness, equity, and justice. As the test elaborates: “You do not let your personal feelings bias your decisions about other people.” Level 17 vegans: take heart.

Strength #15: Social intelligence. It seems that I “know what to do to fit in to different social situations”. This test obviously has no idea how awkward I can be. Or maybe that’s why this skill is ranked 15 out of 24. In other words, we’re starting to get down into the Not Really Strengths, But We’ll Call Them Strengths To Make You Feel Better About Yourself section of the results.

Strength #16: Judgment, critical thinking, and open-mindedness. Despite my outward loathing of critical debate and ‘engagement with the issues’ just for the sake of debating. Gives me the willies.

Strength #17: Forgiveness and mercy. Again, would I ever put this on my resumé? “Skills: Merciful.” I think not.

Strength #18: Self-control and self-regulation. Why is this so low down on the list?! I AM SO IN CONTROL OF MYSELF!!!! WHO WROTE THIS STUPID TEST ANYWAY???!!!!

Strength #19: Caution, prudence, and discretion. On second thought: please ignore what I just said about my previous strength. I am nothing if not ladylike and discreet.

Strength #20: Honesty, authenticity, and genuineness. Secretly, it saddens me to have this one so low on the list. Just like my 85th best friend, I would rather not be told that my 20th top skill is being real. Sucks.

Strength #21: Industry, diligence, and perseverance. “You work hard to finish what you start”. Obviously, this test also has no idea about my whole closet of unfinished knitting projects. Or maybe it’s perceptive enough to rank this lower on my list of strengths. You decide.

Strength #22: Citizenship, teamwork, and loyalty. Finally, a test that tells it like it is when it comes to me and team sports: I loathe and detest them.

Strength #23: Bravery and valour. See, this section isn’t really about strengths at all. I was just telling one of my friends how I hid under a tree and started weeping like a baby on one of the last hikes we did. It was virtually straight up a still-snowy mountain, and I was very afraid. Not at all brave or full of valour. Bravery is not a skill of mine.

Strength #24: Modesty and humility. Um… no comment.

What do you think? After seeing the extent of my non-humble, non-brave self, did you want to be my 73rd bestest friend?