Someone said a shocking thing to me recently. I had just spoken in church -- not a talk or anything big enough to give you a real feel for me, mind you. I had just been asked to share a few thoughts on a favorite hymn (which the congregation then sang). Our ward does that sometimes in lieu of real musical numbers.
Anyway, a few days later I was talking to our ward Relief Society President when she said, "I was talking to my husband the other night -- you know, after you spoke in sacrament meeting and -- do you know anything about the Color Code personality stuff? (I nodded my head side to side and shrugged a little) You do? Oh, well, I said to my husband, 'She has got to be a yellow!' Have you ever taken the test? I'm sure you are a yellow."
"Oh, I took it once," I said, "I think it said I was a white . . . maybe I did it wrong . . ."
"White? Now that is really surprising. I had you pegged as a yellow for sure. I just don't see you as a white."
Yellow? Do you know much about yellows? They are the fun seekers. Their main motivation is fun (or so the color code folks say)! How must I sound when I speak publicly? Is being called a yellow personality after a good thing? Is it akin to being called, "A real live wire" -- like I once was after giving a lovely Mother's Day talk in a ward for the elderly? Yellow?
And, it may be that some of you haven't the foggiest idea what I am talking about, but you see, according to DR. (yes, I capitalized those for effect) Hartman Ph.D. (yes, I know I already said, "Dr." but I am trying to give him all the credibility I can, even though I have no idea who he is other than: the Color Code guy), but, as I was saying, according to him, we can all be divided into four groups based on color: red, blue, white and yellow. (I know, that was cute of me to make each word the right color, but I couldn't really make white be white or you couldn't read it on the page).
Lots of folks put a tremendous amount of stock in this business, and, when I took the test and read about my being all white and what not, I could see why. My being diagnosed as "white" made perfect sense to me (once I read what on earth it meant): apparently whites are all about calmness and peace and absence of confrontation and tact and needing kindness and a bit too content and non goal oriented (but lovely all the same). I read it and thought, "Yes, that is me. There is nothing in the world worse to me than contention and I hate to ruffle feathers or rock boats and I need people to be really really nice." And perhaps my offer of "maybe I took the test wrong" when my Relief Society President was insisting on my yellowness only further affirms my white-peace- keeping-tendency-ness.
But, back to me coming off as all yellow. WHAT? Wowzers. Sure I like a little humor and cheer and all, but I am actually not one bit fun. That is a sad thing to admit, but it is true, and I don't actually really even care if I have much fun. Boring, I know. But yellows are the ones who, apparently, might be expected to haul you off to do some spur of the moment unexpected fun thing. They are the ones whose enthusiasm keeps the world from being a place of overwhelming and utter boredom for the rest of us.
And I was mistaken for one of them!
Me: who was so reserved and quiet as a child that siblings' friends had no idea of my existence. Me: the rather stodgy no fun girl. And, while I am still absolutely no fun, and the last person in the world to be dragging anybody off on some last minute adventure (if one of those happens, rest assured, it is my husband or one of my sisters dragging me off . . . I am far too boringly content: funless).
BUT, that is not all. Have you heard the news about our astrological signs? Well, let me tell you! I read recently (in our respectable local news no less) that your "sign" is determined by the position of the sun relative to certain constellations on the day you are born. Unfortunately, those positions were determined some 2000+ years ago and really aren't accurate anymore because gravity has done something or other to the earth and changed the alignment of things in the meantime. Do you know what this means? It means that all my Capricorn loving life, I have actually been . . . a SAGITTARIUS! That means instead of being a "stable rock like character," I am something else that I know nothing about (alright, I knew nothing about the Capricorn traits either 'til I just now looked them up -- but stable and rock like sounded nice, and I have always cherished my Capricornness despite knowing nothing about it). Maybe Sagittarius is way better, but it feels all wrong to even consider such a thing. It feels traitorous.
What's to be made of all of this? One hardly knows. Why, I don't even know who I am anymore! One minute I'm a peace loving Capricorn, and the very next, people are calling me a yellow Sagittarius. Maybe even a "yella'" Sagittarius (and we all know that if you are yella' you are a scaredy cat). Geez. Earth shattering. I probably shouldn't have shattered all of your earths as well. This is one case where ignorance would have probably been bliss (I still wish people would stop telling me that Pluto isn't a planet for example). You might even have been able to remain in your happy ignorance (if I hadn't come along and ruined it) because I think this news about the horoscopes being hundreds of years outdated is being kept on the down low. Why, did you know there is even an entire NEW sign? How will society cope if people left and right start discovering that they are not the Scorpio they have always thought themselves to be -- rather, an Ophiuchus? How will they feel knowing that the Babylonians dropped their sorry astrological sign because it made for 13 signs and well . . . 13 is a creepy number? Bedlam. Our entire infrastructure will likely collapse. Sorry for spreading the news of an entire population soon to be verging on identity crises (that's plural for crisis -- pronounced cry-seez . . . plural because there will be so many of us in crisis mode).
Anyway, I am going to go stock up on wheat and rice and water and chickens, and probably let Mike get all the extra guns and ammo he has been wanting. I'll write again soon . . . if the Internet hasn't crashed. Best of luck to all of you. Especially you Ophiuchus folks.