Because Barbara asked everyone to try this Greek Goddess test out, I thought I'd give it a try. Quickly realizing that there was no Greek God equivalent, I went ahead and tried it out. I am proudly:
Artemis – 33.3%
According to the site I "feel complete without a man in (my) life" and "would never compromise (my) essential nature for a romantic partner." Both of these are very true and thus skewed the quiz. Although I would very much miss my little brothers, my Dad, all my cousins and buddies with whom I grew up. And, being as sports are a very essential part of my nature, I don't know how long I'd last if my romantic partner asked me to give them up. However, because I'm certain that the future Mrs. Vogeler is a complete and utter babe, I'd do it for her. I would. But that kind of attitude would be coming more from...
Aphrodite—25%
The goddess of love and sexuality. If those two adjectives don't sum me up in as many words, I don't know what other two words would. Maybe "steel" and "sass," perhaps "Jazz" and "fan," or maybe even "German" and "Blondie" (the adjectives I hear thrown my way most in Brazil). Furthermore, according to the site, I "tend to be charismatic and self-assured, comfortable with (my) body and unrestrained sexually." Yes, indeed, I find I can be both charismatic and self-assured, even comfortable with my sculpted build. But after a year of law school, my build seems less like Michaelangelo's David and more like Richard Dreyfuss' mashed potatoes from Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Yes, !Surprise!, sitting around all day studying, eating, studying, working, going to class, eating, going out, and eating (in that order) tend to add up rather quickly. But I take heart in the fact that my Aphrodite-esque characteristics will make me irresistable to the opposite sex.
Underneath my sexy exterior, however, a lingering set of insecurities gnaws at my self-esteem (or so says the quiz): Apparently I "tend not to form permanent attachments with lovers because (I) value (my) sexual freedom, which may leave (me) feeling lonely and even depleted once a relationship ends." Well, I know Mom's probably worried that I'm not married yet. (Mom--when you read this, I promise, I'll get to work on Grandkids as soon as I can. But first, I need to find a wife. Which requires a girlfriend. Which requires dates. It's a whole process thing...) So maybe this is the reason I haven't settled down with anyone yet--I value my "sexual freedom" too much. Whatever that means to a single white Mormon. Also, after ending any relationship, I think most of us feel lonely and depleted, at least for a little while. That must mean *cue nice, warm, violin solo* there's a bit of Aphrodite in all of us. (Ahhhh.....). But within my psyche, a third presence often makes herself known--
Hera—16.7%
"(I am) confident and have no trouble asserting (my) authority in and out of the relationships." Couldn't agree more...or less. I feel like I'm pretty confident. I once walked up to a lovely young lady I didn't know, gave her some flowers and asked for her phone number. Pretty confident, no? Does it really matter that I was delivering the flowers her boyfriend had ordered for her from the Rose Shop, or that I needed her phone number to confirm the delivery? No. It doesn't. I'm also glad that Hera, as queen of the gods, has a little influence on me. Eric means princely or royal in my Father's native Norwegian. However, the authority part leaves room for concern. I therefore promise that, from this day forward, I will not put venemous snakes in my young child's bed, even if he happens to be a demi-god of supernatural strength.
Finally, there is a hard fought battle within my Ego and Id for the fourth place spot. I don't know if this signifies a healthy, well-rounded approach, or paranoid schizophrenia. You can decide for yourself.
8.3% Hestia
Don't think I remember Hestia. Maybe she was the goddess of "awesome." That would be spot on.
8.3% Athena
She's a smarty. I like to think I can be smart sometimes.
8.3% Persephone
Wasn't she the one dragged down to hell because she ate a pomegranate, and only allowed to visit the earth for the warm months of the year? Ahh, yes, I see the correlation. Law School=Hell.
Thanks, Barb, for the invite. However, next time, I'd prefer something less gender-specific, or perhaps a "Man Quiz" with guy-movie stars. I think I've got a good mix of Harrison Ford, Russel Crowe, Mel Gibson, and Simon Pegg (please go see Hot Fuzz!). Only, without any of their manic, inane tantrums and mid-life crises.
That, my friends, is all for the moment. Expect more on the morrow...
10) How’s this for ironic: Yesterday, I had to run a deposit over to a building called the World Trade Center on United Nations Avenue. A week ago, I ate at one of Brazil’s finer eateries: McDonald’s. My law firm lies in a neighborhood called “Brooklin,” where each of the streets carries the name of one our fine states. On top of it all, I currently reside in the “Americanópolis” neighborhood. Even after all of this, I have yet to meet an American in Brazil.
9) If you ever have the chance to teach English to a Brazilian, or any other foreigner, please take the time to pronounce carefully the words “Sheet” and “Beach.” Beyond that, take care to explain that there exists two not-so-nice words that can easily be confused with these, which have nothing to do with laundry or vacations. If you fail to do this, many innocent trips to a California Laundromat may end very tragically.
8) If your supervisor or even a colleague ever offers you “interesting” work, it’s probably not interesting. Really. If it were so engrossing, don’t you think your co-worker would be doing it? Instead, you are left to copy and paste information into excel documents. Interesting...
7) I have found that the most random events in the Universe can converge on my life like Brazilians onto High School Musical (true story—the juggernaut Disney movie, filmed at good ol’ East High school, recently sold out its touring show at TWICE the price of last year’s U2 concert in São Paulo) within a few days. Super-Happy example: Being with my Mission President, surrounded by old companions, in a country I love, when the Manaus Temple is announced. Irony-Sad example: Not having enough change to cover bus fare yesterday, and being forced to ask some of my fellow passengers for the five cents that I needed. Worse—it took a while to find someone willing to donate.
6) For those looking for adventure and adrenaline, all you need to do is get yourself dropped off in the middle of Downtown São Paulo and try and find your way back to the office. Alone. Without a sense of where you are. Did I mention alone? It sounds like a game I used to play with my little brother, only it was at the park, across the street from the house, not in one of the biggest cities in the world. (PS—I made it back)
5) Toilet paper cannot, under any circumstances, EVER be flushed down the toilet in Latin America. Enough said.
4) Office Work is Office Work, no matter where you are. Only, in Portuguese, it’s called “Trabalho do Escritório.” But, for some reason, that doesn’t give it the kind of latinny zip you’d expect. It’s still grindingly eye-weary at times.
3) Rice and Beans are addicting. For breakfast: Frosted Flakes, some fruit juice, and a banana. Dreaming about the Feijoada (black bean stew) I’ll be having with Arroz Mixto (kind of like rice-a-roni, only better) and farofa (I have tried for many years to describe farofa to people who have never had it. I think my father said it best when he called it “Salted texture”) at Lunch. For Lunch: Feijoada com Arroz Mixto e Farofa. Dreaming about the rice and beans I’ll be having at dinner. For Dinner: Rice and beans with some chicken and a pear on the side, with pineapple juice. Thinking about tomorrow’s rice and beans. It’s a cycle. It’s vicious. I try and convince myself that I can stop whenever I want, but I know I’m only spiraling downward. At least it’s a tasty, fairly healthy addiction. Much better than my longtime love affair with Thin Mint Icecream…
2) When Brazilians call you “fat,” they mean it in a good way. Not like “phat” in the states, but more like when you’re Mom lovingly called you “husky” or “thin” instead of “chunky” or “skinny.” Even then, that doesn’t do justice to the meaning. For example, most people would be offended if I went up to them and said Está parecendo gordo! –or– “You’re looking fat!” The reaction that would engender is something akin to what the neighbor’s cats do at 2:34 am every morning until someone throws a sandal. Actually, está parecendo gordo is like telling someone “Hey, you’re looking healthy,” only without any of the mean-spirited Ameri-Anglo-Saxon sarcasm attached. I just realized that this entry does not make any sense whatsoever. I apologize. You’re fat.
1) Laws are laws, lawyers are lawyers, people are people, and life is life, no matter where, what, or who you are. Of course, some members of those groups are more retarded than others. And isn't that what Forrest Gump was all about?
Anyway, back to my story. Today, we passed by a lot of busstops without stopping to pick anyone up, as the bus was too full. We already had people hanging on to the bus doors, sitting on laps, and generally moving as one big mass when necessary. Peering out of the window in the midst of this personal space attack, I chanced to glimpse "deficiency woman." Looking extremely agitated and wanting to get onto a bus at some time soon to get out of the cold, she realized that this bus was not going to allow her on. She was not going to be able to bully, elbow, or make dreary. She was NOT going to have the satisfaction of making THIS American move on THIS day. When my eyes met hers, her brows furrowed in a look of frustration, and I smiled with all of the sunshine of my soul. Never has a look of death seemed so sweet. Though, I'm pretty sure she cursed me, and that by this time tomorrow I'll have my own voodoo doll with pins through it, it was worth it. It was so worth it. Bless Karma.
Aside: Guess who's working in the law firm who's taking care of all the legal matters concerning Temple construction in Brazil?! You got it! ERIC BOYD--in case you didn't get it. We'll see if I can't get my hands on some of the proceedings, and maybe even take part in the negotiating/wrangling/fenagling. HA! I LOVE IT! I can't tell you how exciting this has been, and how serendipitous it was that I got to meet with President Parrella the very weekend the Temple was announced. I guess the best way to sum it all up is the Lord works in mysterious ways--and extends his tender mercies at the most unexpected times. 
This morning, while sitting on the bus, trying to get through another 1 hour ride to work on the crowded bus, I didn't notice that I was sitting in the "Deficiency Row"--reserved for the elderly, the pregnant, the deficient, or, apparently, the American. Tootling away down the highway, the bus picked up a big group of people who quickly filed into the front of the bus. A fairly large, middle-aged woman in this group tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Oh, young man, there's an elderly gentleman who needs to sit down." I quickly stood up and said "He can sit here." But from the row on the other side of the aisle, a kindly young man offered his seat instead, as he was about to get off the bus. "Beleza!" I thought, which is portuguese for Beautiful. I sat down again, hoping to get back into my read-out-loud novel (A Storm of Swords, by NY Times Bestselling Author and Hugo Award Nominee, George RR Martin, TIME Magazine's "American Tolkien"--in hardcover and paperback wherever books are sold). Just as quickly as it took to write that little review, the same woman who asked me to give up my seat to the old man came over to me, obviously upset and said (loosely translated): "Are you deficient?!" (Now, two thoughts entered into my mind--first, 'what does she mean by that?' and 'maybe she's just asking how long I'm going to sit here through this oddly phrased question.' I went with the latter). I responded "Well, I'm not getting off for quite some time, not until Avenida "X," to try and justify why I was sitting down. That was the wrong answer, apparently. Now, really upset, she looked at me and with saliva flying from her quivering lips, she cried, very slowly "ARE YOU D-E-F-I-C-I-E-N-T?!!!" Looking back on it, I should have grinned and said, "No, ARE YOU S-T-U-P-I-D?!" but that would have been mean and quick thinking. I tend to avoid both at all costs. Thus, I simply responded, "No, ma'am, I'm not deficient." To which she replied "Then GET OUT OF THAT SEAT!" Still confused, I realized to my horror, after she had nearly thrust her swollen belly in my face, that this woman was not merely stronger than your average Brazilian, she was probably 7 months pregnant and quite upset that I had not given up my seat to her. I'll tell you what, though, she hid it well--everyone around my on the bus let out an audible gasp when she revealed her state! It was like having my own sitcom soundtrack, only no cute Michelle to look somewhat confused and say "How Rude!"
She looked like this, only really mad!!!!