Prue and My Heart is Broken

The modern woman sees little problem with calling herself a feminist. Although the word has been associated with unsavory individuals and actions, it is now difficult to imagine a world without feminism--almost every woman nowadays has benefited, somewhat, from feminism and its previous waves. Literature is no exception, as it has opened what was once a predominantly male field to a new group of writers.

What, then, may we say is feminist literature? Surely every piece of literature written by a woman must be feminist in some way--or is it? For a long time, the writings of a woman were colored by her gender, many men (and women) assuming that if the author is a woman, the writing could also be classified as feminist itself. However, literary feminism is still a hotly debated topic in terms of its connections to both a social movement and the general trend of literature too. For first-wave and second-wave feminists, indeed, being a woman in the literary scene must have constituted in itself a feminist action, as women writers were rare and not taken as seriously as their male counterparts.  However, third-wave feminism, as the most recent phenomenon, is more vague and escapes a clear-cut definition. What is the focus of third-wave feminism? Does it place more emphasis on the position of women in society? The treatment of women in modern times? Or simply womanhood itself?

Prue and My Heart Is Broken are two literary pieces written by women, one by Alice Munroe and the other by Mavis Gallant. Both feature women as their protagonists; both stories are centered around the lives, both general and immediate, of the women. Neither story revolves explicitly around social justice or a strongly advocated movement, but instead shows us a day in the lives of Prue and Jeannie, thus revealing their ties to society and their roles therein. 

Prue is a jovial woman that does not have a very serious outlook on life--to her, things like love or sex are simply enjoyable "commodities" and shouldn't interfere with the rest of life. Her liaison with Gordon is casual, yet Gordon himself is thinking of marrying Prue. The only problem is that he is in love with another woman, who rudely makes her appearance at his house while he and Prue are having dinner together. Prue does not seem shaken by this at all, merely remarking that it is a wise thing to do, "getting over love". At the very end of the story, however, Prue takes one of Gordon's cufflinks and places it in a small tobacco tin that her children had given her. Her children have long grown up, and so has she--Prue, unlike Gordon's younger lover, seems more placid and emotionally stable. By the description the author uses to describe her cryptic action, it is not sentimental and not ritualistic; it seems almost automatic, judging by the number of other objects she seems to have taken from him over time. From what I can conjecture, Gordon does not love Prue (as is evidently shown by his love for another woman) but only wants to marry her for her stability, seeing her as a sort of means to his end. By taking a number of not insignificant objects from Gordon, which may quite likely hold some sentimental value for him, considering their decorative yet impractical nature, Prue is in a sense retaliating--not at all with malice or spite, but as an almost natural consequence of their tit-for-tat relationship. One often speaks of marrying for a cause other than love, which may be practical in the long term but ends up starving the spirit in need of affection (which Prue does not seem to have in any form--her children are grown up and live away from her, leaving her only a small tobacco tin as a memory). And it is true that while both men and women in the past have pursued purely practical marriages, one more often hears of men marrying a woman for her dowry, or for money, and generally using a wife for his own needs than for hers. After all, the "traditional" image of womanhood is one of sentimentality and "girlish tears"--someone who marries for love and becomes heartbroken when the opposite occurs. Prue turns this image on its head with her calm demeanor and repression of emotion.

Jeannie, on the other hand, is a picture of youth: her peroxide-bleached hair, her coral nails, and long slender legs clad in shorts seem perfectly innocent, at first. Her older friend, Mrs. Thompson, compares her to Jean Harlow, a famous sex symbol. Mrs. Thompson is Jeannie's "best friend", and is a "nice, plain, fat, consoling sort of person"--the very last person that you'd expect to be the "villain" in this narrative. Only when we learn that Jeannie was raped (and quite recently, too), that we begin to see her real blooming hostility toward Jeannie, included in remarks blaming her for her own rape and refusing to even hear who the rapist was. Jeannie's sole "crime", if any, was taking a walk outside in her dress and hat, and yet she must endure the remarks of the professed "best friend" telling her that she was "asking for it" and that "some women don't know how happy they are". Although Mrs. Thompson is herself a woman, she speaks for the oppressive patriarchal values--even though she seems to comprehend how terrible rape must feel for the woman, she still believes that "some girls ask for it" and that Jeannie should have just stayed home and cleaned the house like a good wife should. This further brings into perspective the ridiculousness of the very first scene: Mrs. Thompson's shock at Jean Harlow's death is nothing but mawkishness, something incomparable to the mental scars left behind by rape, yet we now know that those words were offered as a meager consolation to Jeannie after her recent ordeal. Jeannie, in turn, responds with short sentences and barely enough interest in Mrs. Thompson's words--her way of coping with her frustration at her misunderstanding. Societal conventions, echoed by the older woman's voice, muffle her own. At the end, she breaks a little, though not completely, murmuring about how the incident "broke [her] heart", an understatement to be sure. "She has to cry," thinks Mrs. Thompson, but we never learn if she does.

Prue and Jeannie both seem to detach themselves from what is usually perceived as "weak" or "feminine" emotions, furthering the enigmatic nature of their characters but also shedding light on how each story focuses on its celebration of femininity and its role in modern society. I saw both Prue and Jeannie as women who have suffered--to differing degrees, perhaps, but both have undergone painful changes in their lives. Prue's divorce with her husband, her raising of the children alone and her cohabitation with Gordon all are rather frowned upon, even in modern times, for a woman her age; Jeannie's status as a rape victim does nothing to improve society's image of her, instead reinforcing that she deserved it, in a way, and should know her place if she doesn't want it to happen again. 

Both short stories bring us into the shoes of the women, and their relationship with men/their male-oriented environment. 

This brings us back to the question in the beginning: how to define third-wave feminist literature, if these stories are to be seen as examples? It is without question that third-wave feminism is highly influenced by the first and second waves--the better treatment of women in fiction, the portrayal of female characters as someone more than simple plot devices but as developed and complex beings, as well as the politics of women in the literary scene, are all clearly seen in these stories. There is, however, an added dimension of deconstruction of traditional norms, of gender roles, of stereotypes. Prue is by no means your average 40-year-old housewife, and Jeannie is made to suffer an unfair society that must be reconstructed to embrace ones such as herself. Although both stories are quite different, I felt that, as a woman myself, but also as a social activist and feminist, they are at the same time a celebration of womanhood in all its diversity and a silent upheaval of social conventions that even now confine women into more archaic gender politics. 

Would I have felt the same feminism in these stories had they been written by men? Now that is a question that merits further study. Considering male-written works with complex female characters, like Madame Bovary by Flaubert, or the male voices who are advocates of gender equality today, I do believe that yes, both stories are powerful vessels of feminism that are rendered poignant by female authors, but no less effective had they been authored by men. And that is truly the test of feminist literature, in my opinion. A female writer alone does not feminist prose make. Instead, the ideas in her prose must stand alone with a distinct color of its own, making its impact more evident and opening up newer paths. 

Living the Tale

Often I find myself on foggy roads with too many arrows pointing in too many directions. The signposts are too vague to make out, and I am lost in the sea of ideas and possibilities. "Which way should I go?" I wonder, rocking on my heels. Many hands are pulling me in several directions, some blocking my eyes, others tugging my wrists. To sort myself from the midst of the mayhem, I remind myself of a story.

The story begins with a tiny child peering over the edge of the dinner table, fascinated with food. It wasn’t any obsession with her own eating habits—after all, she was devilishly picky—but rather a love for the substance, a great interest in the act of eating and drinking itself. She would endlessly flip through her mother’s cookbooks, poring over the glossy shots of rice, beef, pastries, with the starry-eyed wonder that other children reserved for their first trip to the zoo. If there was something that could unlock her world, it was food: cakes and sparkling liquids set up prettily on a glass table, glorious feasts heavily laid on tables that stretched for miles.

That, of course, would be provided in abundance. The residents of Wonderland and Looking-Glass Land were lavish in their edible imagery: from the very beginning Alice would be steeped in potions that tasted of cherry pie, pineapples, and custard; she would nibble on cakes that would make her rise to the ceiling; she would ponder over how different flavors could affect one’s personality. A great feast would be thrown in her honor, with throngs of baffling guests drinking her health, and she would meet fabulous beasts made of buttered bread and sugar cubes. Wonderland was very generous to the food-loving reader, who basked in the glory of meeting a protagonist who also was very interested in matters of eating and drinking and therefore made her adventures so much easier to follow. Already, since the very beginning, Alice strikes a chord within a very young me.

The story continues with a confused girl, unsure of what to do with her changing body and mind, constantly checking herself before the mirror to see if she is the “right size”. Legs too fat! Tummy too chubby! Head too big for her shoulders! Thoughts crammed her head and came out in jumbles, eliciting shakes of the head and a hundred retierations of “that can’t be right”; others downright accused her of making things up, of being an insincere phoney. The awkward girl would then recede in her corner from the rest of the world, to bury herself in her books.

Meanwhile in Wonderland Alice would grow, shrink, bump her head on the ceiling and shut herself up like a telescope, get screamed at by a furious bird and have a caterpillar disapprovingly tell her that her words are “all wrong”. “I can’t explain myself, sir, for I’m not myself, you see,” she tells him, and the reader ponders the meaning of those words: “Am I myself? Was I the same person that I was when I woke up this morning? Will I ever be the right size, will my words ever sort out?” As Alice flails helplessly, her body stuck in a house far too small for her, the reader dreams of bursting the roof off and stomping away into Wonderland Woods, or gleefully fleeing the house in search of size-altering mushrooms which will help her fit in.

The story ends, for now, with a girl on her bed, tossing and turning, her head buzzing with questions. The older she grows the more she realizes that there is so much more to learn—but will she ever learn it all? How fascinating everything is! Even the night before she had spent hours chasing down an elusive problem down a hole, only to see the solution disappear around a corner; tomorrow would be another day to try, but her mind is not yet satisfied. She thinks back to when she was a child, always asking “What’s that? What’s that?” Now, there is less time to ask questions, but she can still wonder about everything, create stories in her mind.

And Alice? Eternally youthful in Looking-Glass Land, immortalized in literature, she continues to carry heavy volumes of text to Humpty Dumpty for him to explain; she chases rabbits into Wonderland, burning with curiosity; “But why?” she continues to ask the residents of her fantasy-land, who may or may not have coherent solutions to her problems but will always be there to answer them. Time to open doors, solve riddles, ask questions! Alice is no longer a flattened figure in my picture-books—she lives within me, has lived with me for as long as I remember. Every year that I have lived, her tale offers me something more. And through her many relatable misadventures, I have also lived through Alice’s experiences, and if there is one thing I have learned from the story, it’s that for now, it "doesn't really matter which way I go--as long as I get somewhere". I just need to take the first step.

Lady With the Dog - RJ #2

The Lady With the Dog, like its stormy compatriot Anna Karenina, touches upon themes of adultery and the appropriate emotions associated with it. Exactly how these emotions, and characters, are treated is the point of interest here, and will be my focus in this journal.
             The central plot driver of Lady With the Dog is the romance between Gurov and Anna. Before examining their relationship, however, a more detailed character study is in order. Anna Sergeyevna remains a rather static character throughout the story (from beginning to end she is portrayed as sentimental, with her passion for Gurov persisting up to the end), and the color gray is often mentioned in her description (her eyes, favorite dress) which further drives this impression of drabness. We know she is lonely from the start, implied by the fact that she has a dog, and this point is reiterated several times by Anna herself, but other than this dimension, she is rather flat and uninteresting. What is interesting about her is, ironically, that she is not described as being exceptional in any way; she is pretty and young, but nothing about her is particularly striking—she does not show much emotional strength, she is not quirky or alluring in personality, nor does she even have a particularly beautiful appearance. The most remarkable thing about Anna is that she, out of all the women Gurov seduced, was the only one who succeeded in keeping his heart, and by the way the story is written, the reader is led to conclude that this was through no virtue of her own but rather a coincidence.
Gurov, on the other hand, is given a clearly defined character from the start, and undergoes an evolution as the story progresses. He begins as an avid philanderer and bon vivant, who views women as lowly due to his own unhappy marriage, and generally has little consideration for the women he romances. His demeanor is described as being charming, which certainly helps his chances with the ladies. His first meeting with Anna does not change him very much outwardly, as he is seen to be irritated by her sentimental outbursts; it is only after they part that he feels a tremble in his soul, like the ripples that follow a stone dropped in water. His blossoming love for Anna changes him, turns him into a lovesick man, to the point where he no longer finds joy in the trivial things in life and even finds himself angered by them. One can say that he has lost in his own game. The two of them, although very different, face the same obstacle: the forbiddance of their love and the various entanglements they must sort out (such as their respective spouses, the moral weight of their actions, etc.).
Their relationship, therefore, is defined by a sense of desperation and frustration, and such emotions are laid clearly out in the open for the reader to see. Yet, the reader feels little passion or sympathy on their part. In fact, the entire story is seen as if from a behind a glass—there is little pathos and flowery language, and everything is painted in straightforward, almost stark brushstrokes that were not meant to evoke much emotional involvement but merely aim to describe. I have mentioned my profound distaste for men like Gurov very vocally in class already, but that is merely my pre-established point of view in play, and was not intended by the author. Chekhov does not seem to agree, or, rather, shows no indication of his opinion whatsoever; in his typical realist style, he leaves us to reach our own conclusions about Gurov and Anna, or, rather, encourages us to not reach conclusions at all and merely see the situation as it is.
There can be several reasons for this. Firstly, one might say that the autobiographical nature of the story might make Chekhov reluctant to lead the reader to any strong opinion. Chekhov’s marriage was also quite unhappy, not unlike Gurov’s relationship with his wife, which might explain why Chekhov himself was a bit of an adulterer. By painting Gurov not as an infidel swine but as a normal man with his reasons for behaving the way he does, the author might have wanted to justify himself to the world. This could also explain why Gurov was more developed than his lover was—the author could identify with him more. A more likely explanation, however, is that Chekhov only wanted to take a snapshot of a scene in the human mind, much like how he captured Ivan’s emotions in The Student. If Ivan’s evolution in the story was from bleakness to hope, the Gurov’s is just the opposite; he begins as a happy man and degenerates into a man miserable in love, albeit with some optimism that he will be able to sort things out. The entire point of Chekhov’s realism is that these emotions, no matter how passionate or despairing, are seen as just another subject to be studied or painted, unlike Romanticism in which they are celebrated and seen as possibly the most important part of the human condition. No exception is made for Gurov and Anna’s relationship, which is more of a case study than anything else. It drives the plot, keeps things interesting, but most importantly it is a complex scenario which the author found convenient to explore (after all, it is hard to escape the adage “write what you know”). Although we cannot know for sure if this almost-flippant realism was intentional, it seems quite clear that Chekhov at least did not intend to insert a moral, or a definite conclusion in his story. The reader is free to take away from the story what she sees.
So if Anna Karenina focuses on the stormy feelings that rage in the titular character’s heart, this Anna is portrayed as a subject in a static painting, and her lover, quite similarly as well. One could choose to love them, or hate them, as I did. Chekhov himself certainly didn’t.
 

The Student: RJ #1

The story, "The Student", opens on a gray, soggy note, as we watch the protagonist trudge along in a joyless world. It's clear that we are looking through his eyes; thus, the first impression I took away from this story was equally as bleak. "Perfect short story" indeed? At first what we see is a simple, unfettered tale of a student who chances upon a widow and her daughter and uses the opportunity to preach to them the story of Peter, the prophet who denies Jesus' name thrice before morning strikes. And it is this uncloggedness, this simplicity that gives the story the label of "realism". There is no magic, no supernatural occurrence involved; emotions are portrayed straightforwardly, without florid prose often employed by the Romantics. Myself, being more of a Romantically-inclined person, was not too attracted by the story at first. But therein lies the joy of realism--it leaves "scope for the imagination", as Anne Shirley would say. What effect was Chekhov trying to achieve? Surely he must have intended the reader to think, not just swallow.

A second rereading allowed more room for thought--that might in fact be a bit of an understatement. There is a world of difference between the first and second reading, and it became much clearer to me the precise kind of emotion Ivan was feeling at the end of the story: it was the same one that I experience when learning history. "When he touched one end [of the chain], the other quivered." Often the heart-thrilling feeling that I get when I connect past events to modern ones can be described precisely thus. After all, what is the past and present but a matter of semantics? Past chains of events are inextricably tied to our present, the same way our actions today influence those of our successors. Ivan, being a religious student, achieved this enlightenment through a spiritual connection rather than through connecting a concrete series of events, as historians do; his seeing the widow weeping and her daughter troubled was evidence enough for him that Biblical stories far in the past still had solid remnants in his day. I, as a student of Reason and of the post-Enlightenment age, reached that conclusion in a more logical and empirical manner, but I do believe the revelation is the same. Therefore, The Student held much more meaning for me the more I explored it.

Certainly, then, if both Ivan and the reader reach a light in the darkness together, wouldn't that be a sign of hope? After all, the Biblical tale Ivan himself told was fraught with optimism; Peter denied Jesus three times, but he was later forgiven, and went on to become a great disciple. In the same way, Ivan's initial bleak worldview of his Russia being similar to that of the dictators also reaches a hopeful conclusion; Peter's betrayal of Jesus was certainly negative, but there was improvement. Although the cold winds of Russia past continue to blow in the land, Ivan feels joyful because change is possible, thanks to continual holy forces working since Antiquity. There is a small strip of sunset shining on the ground as Ivan leaves--this is symbolism enough for a new hope glimmering in the student's heart.

As we are left with that image, we wonder: what did Chekhov mean to tell us? Of course, that question could be only answered by the man himself. If I may speculate, the story's moral could lie in the conclusion itself--that the past and present are connected by similar forces--or it could be something more mundane. Perhaps Chekhov simply wanted to paint a snapshot of a young man's mind, as many realist authors did. And before you cry "But that's so pointless!" it's important to know that capturing an emotion, a revelation, in a human mind, is a surprisingly difficult thing to do, especially so straightforwardly and without decorations. The existence of the story itself may have a meaning of its own, as a photograph of a person's mind. The readers could gain from it Chekhov's own understanding of humans and how they think; The Student could very well be an intensely personal piece, considering his religious background.

So is it the "perfect short story"? It's certainly not for everyone--after all, barely anything happens in it, and not every reader will walk away with a profound revelation or emotion. Some may argue that the story was not written poignantly enough for that, and that is the point of dry realism. I personally thought it was a rather moving piece, most probably because I could relate to the main character in a way.

30 Things You Should Know About Joelle

1. My favorite authors are Lewis Carroll and George Orwell.

Aside from the fact that they both used pseudonyms, these two don't really seem to have much in common. And because of that, I love them in completely different ways. Lewis Carroll speaks to my childhood self; all the things in the world that make me happy are condensed in his writing. His style is bantering, frivolous, yet very sharp, and keeps me intellectually satisfied as well as emotionally. George Orwell, on the other hand, writes in a gritty realism in which you can almost feel the wind swirl in behind you into Victory Mansions, and promotes deep thoughts about the human condition. I like to think that these two authors represent the two sides of me: the fun-loving, kid-like side, and the deep-thinking, inquisitive side.

2. I am very interested in food and drink. (I'm a foodie.)

Like Alice, I love to think about matters of eating and drinking. The perfect gift for me is a recipe-book with lots of pictures, which is ironic considering that I never saw the inside of a kitchen, but I just love to flip through the pictures and salivate. Food and drink are important subjects for anyone, I'm sure, but I have more fondness for them than most. I can't even say that I'm a gourmet--I prefer homey dishes to extravagant ones--but I love to look at food and think about food, perhaps even more than I like to eat it.

3. I love to draw.

Don't get me wrong, I'm no good at it. But I've been doodling pictures ever since I can remember, and I practice every day; hopefully I can get a little better at it each day that I draw. Maybe one day I'll manage to crap out a masterpiece.

4. I love horror games.

I don't even know what I was doing with my life before I discovered horror video games. I regularly scour the internet for new indie horror games and read reviews. When I'm too chicken to play one myself I watch play-throughs of them on Youtube. I love horror films too, but I prefer games to movies or novels because they are more immersive, and yet not too immersive so as to make me feel unsafe (like a haunted house)--they are just right in terms of terror factor, and since there are so many varieties to choose from, I never get bored. Someday I hope to contribute my own share to the horror game market by making my own.

5. I am fascinated with Stephen King.

Mr. King gets his own entry because my enjoyment of him is different from how I love Carroll or even Orwell. In fact, I am reluctant to say that I love Mr. King's works per se because quite frankly they disturb me so much. And that's precisely why I enjoy them. He really is very good at tapping into the hidden fears and dark sides of every human being, and his writing, to me, is more than a simple scare-fest--it's a form of shock therapy. He seems to understand the human mind better than many contemporary writers, and although he uses his perceptive powers to scare us, he also makes us think back on ourselves and leaves an impression that lasts long after the final note of the book has sounded. Stephen King is brilliant, no doubt about it, and he has me captivated.


6. I love most animals, and just about anything that lives, really.

I love animals, but not just animals; I love plants, and bugs, and of course, people (although they are arguably animals). My favorite animals are tigers, snakes, and toucans.

7. I tend to overthink a lot. 

Often I will 'think' myself into a depressive mood, by sheer force of mind. My mind gets overwhelmed with thoughts and I end up feeling down because of how many things I can find wrong with life. Strangely enough, my thoughts flow in a more pessimistic way than optimistic.

8. I am curious about everything.

Ever since I was a kid, I questioned everything. "What's this?" "Why is that?" The zeal for asking questions and learning new things never actually faded, and I still retain that insatiable curiosity to this age. I wish I could learn everything in the world there is to be learned--a dangerous, mind-shattering wish, perhaps.

9. I'm an agnostic.

I could go on a really long tirade about the existence of God/gods, and how I feel about it, but I'll just summarize my feelings about them thus: I don't know if there is a God and if there is, we'll never be able to prove it; if there isn't, we won't be able to prove it, either. My pet theory is that we're all living in a computer simulation made by a vastly superior civilization, but that would raise a whole lot of questions that I won't be able to answer.

10. I changed my English name several times over the course of the years.

There's a bit of a story behind this one. I started out with the name "Jackie" in Canada (my teacher came up with it, actually), and thought I would stick with it for the rest of my life, until I read the book "Stargirl" by Jerry Spinelli. In that book, the main character, Stargirl, says she chooses her own names depending on how she feels, and doesn't see the reason to stick to one name forever. It left a profound impression on me and so I cycled through a few names during my 18 years of existence: Jackie, Jacqueline, Jo, Lynn, Julie, and finally settling on Joelle now. I am not sure if I should stick with it.

11. I want to dye my hair. 

Preferably red. Or any other color that might fit my personality. I'm open to suggestions. (Please give me some suggestions. It's going to happen sooner or later anyway.)

12. I'm a pacifist. 

Although I am strongly for equality and human rights, I don't believe in using violence to achieve those means. I hate fighting fire with fire; I find that it just makes things worse. Radical movements, therefore, leave a horrid taste in my mouth. I've gotten into a lot of ideological fights because of this, but hey, can't please everyone.

13. I'm an avid reader of Cracked.com.

Cracked is where I get most of my own sense of humor (mostly immature and word-based humor, that is). I don't care if it's not as classy as the Onion, although I love the Onion in its own right; I love Cracked because of the sheer diversity of topics they cover, and with a touch of nerdiness too. One of my hobbies is to browse through the site and leave tons of comments whenever the fancy strikes.

14. I like Japanese anime.

It's no secret to those that know me (and even the ones who don't) that I am a fan of Japanese animation, or anime as it's more widely known. My FB profile picture is a picture of an anime girl, enough said.

15. I'm a Capricorn.

The mere fact that I'm including this in this list shows that I have an interest in astrology, however meagre it may be. I don't actually believe in horoscopes or zodiac-based personalities, mostly because the description for Capricorns is so far off the mark when it comes to me (personality-wise I'm more Sagittarius or Cancer, actually), but I think it's really fun and I like the symbolisms/mythology behind them.

16. I have a few really weird phobias.

A silly phobia that I have is a form of botanophobia, the fear of plants. I am not afraid or uncomfortable with plants in the wild, but I am very uncomfortable with plants that are indoors, because of one nasty incident involving a cactus when I was very young. But I do believe that is something that I can overcome, given enough time.
The bigger, more serious phobia that I have that really has affected my life is emetophobia, or the fear of vomiting. Ever since I got really, really sick once when I was 10, I have been terrified and disturbed by anything that has to do with vomit or nausea. I can't stand to go on boats for fear of seasickness, and I avoid amusement park rides that may give me motion sickness, despite the fact that I actually don't get motion sickness that easily. I am also terrified of watching other people throw up, so if you complain of nausea around me, I will probably get really nervous and might even run away. Please, please don't take this personally; it's not something I can control, it's one of those irrational fears that has a firm grip on my life and that I want to shake off, but can't. Even writing out this paragraph has mildly disturbed me because of all the vomit mentions...you know how bad it is now.

17. I want to learn how to cook and bake.

I mentioned my love of food and drink above. This kind of ties into that. I don't know how to cook yet, but someday I will become a master chef! It's one of my aspirations.

18. I love pranks and practical jokes.

I don't think I can emphasize this enough. Most of the time I'm too scared of authority figures to actually pull any off, and I'm also afraid of accidentally harming someone, but once I get into the adequate scenario for a prank, there's no stopping me. Needless to say, my favorite "days" are April Fool's Day and Halloween, if only for the sheer number of pranks I can pull.

19. I love walking outside on sunny days, staying in and watching the rain on rainy days, and sitting by the window on snowy days.

If you thought that was oddly specific, it's because it's supposed to be. I have a very set itinerary on certain weather days. If you make me go outside on a rainy day, or close the curtains on a snowy day, or deprive me from going out on a sunny day, I will definitely be cranky for the entire day--nay, week.

20. I love to travel.

It doesn't really matter where; I just love to pack up and leave somewhere. I tend to get very bored when I stay in one place, so traveling to another country/region/city, even, is enough to get my blood racing.


And the final 10:

-I'm an INFP in the Myer-Briggs test
-I have a "Neutral Good" alignment
-My temperament is Sanguine
-My Enneagram is Type 4
-Out of the 12 Archetypes, I'm a Creator

-I'm a gamer
-I'm a family guy (girl?)
-I'm a teenager with many thoughts in a rapidly changing world
-I'm an Asian in a rapidly globalizing world
-I'm still confused about where I want to go, but hope to figure it out soon