“Listen, three eyes, don’t you try to outweird me, I get stranger things than you free with my breakfast cereal.” – Zaphod Beeblebrox

I don’t put much faith in these things, but over the weekend I took a short Myers-Briggs Type Indicator survey my boss wanted all his employees to complete. He’s hoping to improve efficiency, and apparently this is the way to do it. I had already missed the “7 Habits of Highly Effective People” seminar, so I figured I could humor him at least this much. Apparently, I am a INFJ type: introverted, intuitive, feeling, and judging. People like me “succeed by perseverance, originality, and desire to do whatever is needed or wanted.” We are “quietly forceful, conscientious, concerned for others, respected for [our] strong principles.” And we are “likely to be honored and followed for [our] clear convictions as to how best serve the common good.”

Who knew?

“Well I got a mind full of wicked designs, I got a non-stop hole in my head imagination…” – Poe

When a job interview lasts only twenty minutes, and most of that is an overview of what the position entails rather than questions about your work, past performance, or yourself, is that a good or a bad thing?

“‘The unknown,’ said Faxe’s soft voice in the forest, ‘the unforetold, the unproven, that is what life is based on. Ignorance is the ground of thought. Unproof is the ground of action. If it were proven that there is no God there would be no religion….But also if it were proven that there is a God, there would be no religion….Tell me, Genry, what is known? What is sure, predictable, inevitable — the one certain thing you know concerning your future, and mine?’

‘That we shall die.’

‘Yes. There’s really only one question that can be answered, Genry, and we already know the answer….The only thing that makes life possible is permanent, intolerable uncertainty: not knowing what comes next.'” – Ursula K. Le Guin, The Left Hand of Darkness

“Getting an inch of snow is like winning ten cents in the lottery.” – Bill Watterson, Calvin and Hobbes

Today is an Almost Snow Day, the sort of day when the snow is deep enough that you want to stay home, and you know the only sane course of action is to stay home, but you can’t stay home because you have a job and it’s still open for business. An Almost Snow Day is a terrible start to the week, just enough of the real thing to make getting to work a wet and icy chore, but not enough to keep you toasty warm in your bed watching cartoons or reading a book, which is the sensible place to be on a Monday morning like this. The University was on a two-hour delay this morning, and the buses are running slow, so I’m here later than expected. But I’m still here. And that hardly seems fair.