Photography And Half-Thoughts By Mitchell Hegman

...because some of it is pretty and some of it is not.

Sunday, December 17, 2017

I am an ENFP

According to the results of a somewhat annoying test I completed, I am a type ENFP personality.   One resource I read suggested my type constitutes about two percent of the population.  Another resource claimed we ENPFs make up about five to seven percent of the population.
What is an ENFP?  These letters represent human metrics for personality which mean the following:
E = Extroverted (versus “I” for Introverted)
N = Intuition (versus “S” for Sensing)
F = Feeling (versus “T” for Thinking)
P = Perceiving (versus “J” for Judging)
Using this metric, a total of sixteen distinct personality type can be identified.  In a nutshell (and that might be exactly where we should be) ENPFs are emotional weirdos.  We tend toward the passionate, over-sensitive side.  We are enthusiastic and lean hard into idealism.  We seek honesty and are not particularly bossy.  But we get detracted by shiny objects.
Robin William’s was an ENFP.
I was surprised at how precisely I fit into the descriptions of ENFPs I found.   I have a few outliers.  For one thing, I generally finish projects I start, which is not a normal aspect for an ENFP. 
I printed out a copy of one of the ENFP descriptions and gave it to that girl.  After reading it, she said:  “That’s pretty close but it does not quite capture how unusual you are.”
“You mean I am weirder than that.”
“Way weirder.”
I smiled.  “Thank you, honey.”

-- Mitchell Hegman

Saturday, December 16, 2017

Moods

Posted are photographs taken from my back deck over the last two weeks.


-- Mitchell Hegman

Friday, December 15, 2017

Tabula Rasa

My first ten minutes this morning were wildly unfocused.  I thought I dropped a sock on my dark trek from bedroom to kitchen.  I scoured the entire path twice before realizing it was caught up in my shirt.
I spilled a cascade of water from my carafe while making coffee.
My 20 pounds of housecat sat whining at the door but didn’t actually want out.  This was a merely a test.
After stepping outside to “feel” the day (still under a temperature inversion), I flipped on the television and brought to life my computer and smarter-than-me-phone.
My computer hiccupped this morning (electronically speaking), then launched two blank Power Point presentations without my prompting.
Why Power Point?
Why two?
My phone wants to update something.
If my first few minutes of each day are a blank slate, fate, on this day, is scribbling all over it.

-- Mitchell Hegman

Thursday, December 14, 2017

Morrison (Always, Again)

I have posted quotes from Jim Morrison, lead singer of The Doors, on several occasions before.  He was a bright and tragic and paradoxical figure.  A strange mix of highly intelligent and highly reckless.
Here are a few more of his quotes:
—“Drugs are a bet with your own mind.”
—“When you make your peace with authority, you become authority.”
—“I believe in a long, prolonged, derangement of the senses in order to obtain the unknown.”  
—“I like people who shake other people and make them feel uncomfortable.”


-- Mitchell Hegman

Wednesday, December 13, 2017

Mass Replacement (Problems)

The best thing about computers is they do exactly what you command them to do.  The worst thing about computers is they do exactly what you command them to do.
So…
I am in the process of writing a technical book about the use, safety concerns, and function of digital multimeters.  Yesterday, I decided I needed, for the sake of readability, to change the term “input port” to “input jack,” throughout the forty-some pages I have written to this point.
The input jack I am talking about, by the way, is the hole in the face of a multimeter where you plug in the test leads used to connect to electrical circuits and components when testing voltage, ohms, etc.
To make my correction, I opted to use the “Replace” function for the entire document.  When the window for Replace popped up: I typed in the following:
For Find: port.
For Replace With: jack.
When I clicked on the Replace button, the application reported a total of 43 changes made throughout the document.
Fair enough.
No, replace that with: good.
I closed the Replace pop-up and began to scroll back down to where I was editing something.  That’s when I found where the word “important” had been changed to “imjackant.”
This occurred 13 times.
Nice try, Microsoft.

-- Mitchell Hegman

Tuesday, December 12, 2017

The Crane Connection

All things are connected together.  Some things are linked in mysterious ways.  Other things are joined together by good old-fashion human guidance.  This story, in my way of thinking, is a mix of both flavors of connection.
A dear friend of mine has a sweet, sensitive, adorable not-quite-a-teen girl.  She and that girl (my girl) have, over the last two years, bonded in a most profound and charming fashion.  When they are together they sit leaning into one another, talking, touching hands, and laughing.  Though many tens of years separate these two in age, they are ageless when together.
Yesterday, my friend called to ask if it would be okay if he and his daughter stopped by the house later today.  He explained that his daughter really wanted to see that girl.
“I think that would be great,” I said.
That girl readily agreed, telling me, “I would be honored to have her come out to visit.  I look forward to it!”  Shortly thereafter, she suggested we find some sort of Christmas present to give to my friend’s daughter.
We scratched our heads, drawing blanks for gift ideas.
A couple hours later my mind abruptly made some connections.  “I have an idea,” I told that girl.
“What?”
“Hold on.”  I left the kitchen where we were talking and quickly returned with a handful (the last) of the origami cranes my late wife, Uyen, made from fabric.  Each of the cranes carries, hanging on thread below, a small animal carved from jade. The animals represent the Chinese Zodiac.  Each animal has its own significance.  Only a half dozen cranes are left with me now—all of them made from fabrics of different patterns and colors.  I didn’t pay any attention to the animals.  “Let’s give one of these to her,” I suggested.  “You can pick one out.”
After a while, that girl announced that she had whittled her decision down to two.  “You need to help me,” she informed me.
Together we decided on a single crane.  The color of one struck me.  The crane carried, as a trinket hanging below, a jade rooster.  After we selected the crane, that girl searched online to see what the rooster signifies in Chinese culture.
First, 2017 is the year of the rooster.  Lucky choice, that!  The rooster is a symbol of honesty, good fortune, and fidelity.  More importantly, I know Uyen would be overjoyed to be giving this gift through us.  We have all been connected together by the crane, which, by the way, embodies longevity and peace.


-- Mitchell Hegman

Monday, December 11, 2017

Five Ladybugs Jumping

One morning, when the sky was big and perfectly blue, Princess Mackenna stepped outside her castle door in Kindly Kingdom.  She wanted to smell the flowers just there alongside the walk.
She said “Goodbye” to Hedgy the hedgehog.  He was always there outside the door.
“Hello,” Hedgy said.  He thought for a moment.  “Or do I mean goodbye?”
“Goodbye,” suggested the little Princess.  She touched Hedgy’s cold nose.  “And remember, Hedgy, this is your nose.”
“Nose,” repeated the hedgehog.
Red, yellow and white flowers grew near the door to Kindly Castle.  Some of the white flowers stood as tall as the little Princess.  Princess Mackenna approached the tallest white flower and smelled the blossom.   “Mmmmmm,” she said, “so sweet!”
“Careful up there!” a tiny voice called.  A woman’s voice.
Princess Mackenna looked down at the nearest green leaf on the flower.  The leaf was as flat as the pages in one of her books and as big as her hand.  Five red ladybugs with black spots were walking across the leaf in a straight line, one following another.
All the ladybugs stopped and looked up at Princess Mackenna.  Their little antennas were twitching.  The first ladybug in the line spoke in the same tiny voice: “I’m Lana the ladybug.  Because I am first, I am also called number one.  My friends are behind me.”
In the tiniest voices the little Princess could imagine, each of the ladybugs behind Lana called out in order, one after another: “Two.”  “Three.”  “Four.”  “Five.”
“Five is a very good number,” said Princess Mackenna.  “I have five fingers on each hand.”  She held out her hands.  “I have five toes on each of my feet.”  She pointed at her feet.  “And I can count to ten if I close my eyes.”
“We are looking for help,” Lana the Ladybug admitted.
“What kind of help?” asked the little Princess.
“We want to fly away from this flower, but we need to jump into the air first.  And we don’t know how to jump.  We need someone to teach us how.”
“Jump!”  “Jump!”  “Jump!”  “Jump!”   The other four ladybugs exclaimed one after another.
“I am glad you found me,” said Princess Mackenna.  “I have been jumping for a while.  I can teach you.”  She placed her hands on her hips because that’s what teachers do.  “Do all five of you ladybugs have knees on your legs?”
Lana the ladybug looked at her legs.  “I have knees.”  She looked at ladybug number two, three, four and five.  “Yes, we all have knees on all of our legs.”
“Knees!”  “Knees!”  “Knees!”  “Knees!”   The other four ladybugs exclaimed one after another.
“Well, then, jumping shall be easy for all of you.  The trick is to bend your knees.  Then pretend you are a spring and bounce up.  Watch me.”  Mackenna bent her knees.  Then, pretending she was a spring, she bounced up in the air.
From the leaf of the flower, the ladybugs went “Ooohhh!”
“Try that,” Mackenna suggested.
Down on the green leaf, all the red ladybugs with black spots started jumping in order.  One…two…three…four…five.    They did this until each of them had jumped five times.  Princess Mackenna could hear their miniscule giggles.
“We cannot thank you enough,” Said Lana the ladybug.  We have wanted to fly away all morning.”  With that said, Lana the ladybug jumped up into the air and flew away.  “Goodbye!” she called out to the little Princess as she whizzed by.  The second ladybug did the same.  Then the third.  Then the fourth.  Then the fifth.
Princess Mackenna sniffed a few more flowers.  So sweet!  She was happy she had taught the ladybugs how to jump.  Maybe she would be a Queen and a teacher when she grew up.
Before the little Princess went back inside her castle.  She touched Hedgy’s nose.
“Hello and Goodbye,” said the hedgehog.  “Nose,” he added.

-- Mitchell Hegman