I'm an artisan, I guess

Free report for: Nicholas Roberts
(name has been kept the same to endanger subject)

Artisans are the temperament with a natural ability to excel in any of the arts, not only the fine arts such as painting and sculpting, or the performing arts such as music, theater, and dance, but also the athletic, military, political, mechanical, and industrial arts, as well as the "art of the deal" in business.

Artisans are most at home in the real world of solid objects that can be made and manipulated, and of real-life events that can be experienced in the here and now. Artisans have exceptionally keen senses, and love working with their hands. They seem right at home with tools, instruments, and vehicles of all kinds, and their actions are usually aimed at getting them where they want to go, and as quickly as possible. Thus Artisans will strike off boldly down roads that others might consider risky or impossible, doing whatever it takes, rules or no rules, to accomplish their goals. This devil-may-care attitude also gives the Artisans a winning way with people, and they are often irresistibly charming with family, friends, and co-workers.

Artisans want to be where the action is; they seek out adventure and show a constant hunger for pleasure and stimulation. They believe that variety is the spice of life, and that doing things that aren't fun or exciting is a waste of time. Artisans are impulsive, adaptable, competitive, and believe the next throw of the dice will be the lucky one. They can also be generous to a fault, always ready to share with their friends from the bounty of life. Above all, Artisans need to be free to do what they wish, when they wish. They resist being tied or bound or confined or obligated; they would rather not wait, or save, or store, or live for tomorrow. In the Artisan view, today must be enjoyed, for tomorrow never comes.

Artisans make up between 15 to 20 percent of the population, which is good, because they create much of the beauty, grace, fun, and excitement the rest of us enjoy in life.

i will high-five you.

Girl,

Why do you not smile at me? Do you smile at all? I'm sorry but you seem so cold. I see you, and I know you see me, yet I feel I am not even a blip on your freakdar. No nod, no thumbs up, sometimes not even a knowing glance, and it just tears me up inside.

Why you gotta be like that, girl? You and I aren't like everyone else. The white cord of the iPod that differentiates us from the apes says so, but do you appreciate our kinship? It doesn't seem like it.

I wait to cross the street at the corner and I see you on the other side. You ALWAYS leave me hanging when I offer my hand for a friendly "high five" when we cross. Always. Girl, you don't even know what that does to me.

Baby, just show me that smile, anything. I want to know that you know I am here for you -- whenEVer you so desire. And baby girl, if you are a dime short to buy that replenishing can of Diet Coca-Cola you need, or even a quarter short, look for me. I'll have the white earphones in my ear with the volume low enough to sense your distress, yet loud enough for Marvin Gaye to inspire me should we freak sometime. Alternatively, the next time you see me ballin' up the sidewalk, look for the white cords...and then look for my penetrating and welcoming gaze. I will high five you.

Let me know, baby sweet thang.