Twenty-Five Things About Me
I know this meme was a Facebook phenom, but Facebook frankly weirds me out and annoys me more than anything else. It’s too much crossing of worlds–my mother is there, my undergrad advisor, college and high school friends, relatives–I realize that technically Facebook is less of a broadcast than an unfiltered LJ, but the thing is, if someone comes here, they are coming to see me, not just idling around on their feed. For me, Facebook is for posting random links, catching up on the status and photos of family and close friends who don’t read this thing and don’t have their own blog, and maybe the occasional superpoke. I will be a disappointment in every other way there.
However, I’ve decided I wanted to post twenty-five things. So here they are.
- I don’t like soda, pop, or whatever you want to call it. I used to, but I lost the taste for it years ago and have never gotten it back. Even Crystal Light is often too sweet for me. I prefer mineral or sparkling water, to the point that sometimes I crave it so much that you’d think I was suffering from some sort of narcotic withdrawal.
- Speaking of cravings: once I craved a grape vitamin. Seriously.
- I have a long history of weird and undefinable ailments, the weirdest of which is that I sometimes spontaneously choke while eating. As best anyone’s been able to figure it out, sometimes when I try to swallow one of the muscles in my throat fails, and unless I catch it or get it going again, everything I continue to eat or drink piles up and up until suddenly I can’t breathe because I have no air. If I catch it before that happens, my chest is tight, and I have to try to relax and move it down by will, or, in unfortunate cases, make a trip to the restroom and try to be discreet. So if you’re ever eating with me and I suddenly leave the room, don’t be alarmed. It’s just me being weird.
- I played with barbies until I was twelve. I never, not once, played "house" with them. I always invented grandiose stories, usually involving some villain kidnapping someone. As I closed in on puberty, my stories, I admit sometimes began to take on the tone of what can only be described as rape fantasy. I have no idea why. But there were a lot of fantasy stories, with people as fairies and sprites and princesses with amazing powers. Though sometimes the princesses ran away with that terrible villain. Urm. Then, literally one day, I realized I was just holding plastic, and it was abruptly unsatisfying. Then I started writing things down. I have yet to stop.
- I wrote stories during all my high school and junior high classes. I always had two notebooks, one for actual notes and one for writing stories. I was often lauded for being such a careful notetaker, and this was reflected by my 3.75 GPA. If only they knew.
- When I was in college, I wrote my first of what would become many letters to the editor, this one of our school paper. I was protesting a decision made by the college to rescind an invitation to the Des Moines Gay Men’s Chorus. No one prompted me to write–I simply felt this was wrong, and I cited my Christian upbringing and need to understand people I didn’t know much about as the reason they should let them attend. They did, in the end (quite obviously not just because of my letter), and I attended. I remember thinking the singing was only okay (I was in the Wartburg College Choir, so please forgive my snobbery, because we were quite good) but that the slideshow they presented was astounding, notably for all the historical figures they said were gay. I remember thinking, "I had no idea."
- In high school I moved from a very big school to a small school, and in one of my classes I felt that my teacher was giving me As unfairly, that he simply liked whatever I did. So I wrote a paper once deliberately trying to write nonsense so that he would give me a bad grade. I received an A+ and a citation for creativity. I never reclaimed my respect for him.
- In college, a professor who would eventually become my advisor and remains one of my most influential figures in life to this day, gave me my first ever C on a paper. He took me into his office for a conference and told me if I was going to keep taking classes from him, I needed to learn how to write. He swears he never said this, but I remember, and I remember, too, the feeling of intense relief. I worked like hell on the next paper, and I earned an A-. I never received anything but an A from him after, and on several occasions I received perfect scores on tests, though he worked very, very hard not to give them to me if he could help it. And the one time I earned an A+ I thought he would be ill.
- I was once mobbed by a crowd of drunken lesbians, half of whom were trying to fondle my breasts. It was one of the happiest nights of my life.
- My first boyfriend’s brother–whom I actually had a crush on–hypnotized me on several occasions, sometimes for seriousness, mostly for fun. He gave me a post-hypnotic suggestion, a word keyed to his voice that would put me under instantly if he ever said it. He was careful never to say it otherwise, except one night we were drunk in a parking lot with a crowd of people, he said, "Look at the moon!" and I went down like a stone.
- When I was very, very young, I used to imagine that I was a fairy flying over the world, granting wishes.
- I am currently living in the seventeenth place of residence I count as home during my lifetime. I’m counting "college" as one residence in general, though if you count each dorm room there, you need to add six more. If you add my aunt and uncle’s home where I spent two summers and my mom’s two houses in Bellevue where I spent other summers, you need to add nine more to the total.
- I have completed seven novels from the time I was twelve until now. (The first one was when I was twelve.) Two of those novels have been rewritten entirely, one of them four times. One of them, actually, is in its third revision right now.
- I had several "Jesus Freak" periods of my life. The first was in college, though it was rather personal and no one really knew about it. The second and third were after college, and they increased in intensity as I tried to hold onto my Lutheranism. Though I’ve had several churchless periods of my life, I have never not believed in a godforce. Largely this is because I can see it and feel it and have always been able to talk to it (and get answers) ever since I was young enough to remember anything at all. Once God even told me where to find my softball glove. Or someone did. I told him thanks and went to practice. Jesus, however, never said anything.
- I have never really liked the radio. I didn’t listen to it at all during the 90s, and as a result, the music from that time period is a complete mystery to me.
- I know how to say "I like tall, blond, Swedish boys" in Swedish.
- I’m pretty sure that most of the guys I had crushes on in high school and college ended up coming out as gay. I know for a fact that several of them are. In hindsight, this explains so many things.
- I hate sitting further back than the first third of a theater. I liked to be so close I don’t remember that I’m even in one.
- I have an unnatural fear of birds, particularly geese. However, I love crows.
- I have never had marijuana. Ever. I was only offered it once, and it was from a boyfriend whom it had destroyed so completely that I am now determined to be able to say "I have never had marijuana" until the day I die.
- I have developed a penchant for losing nouns, and lately I saw the wrong noun. I literally look at something and know what it is but cannot remember its name. This only happens when I’m speaking, never when I’m writing. Sometimes it makes me worried, but I’m not sure what to do about it.
- I wish that prostitution was legal and managed with the same elegance and professionalism as massage therapy. Frankly, I cannot understand why it isn’t.
- I will read any genre and any story about anything if it has a love story and a happy ending. If there’s sex in it, too, so much the better.
- I have a subscription to seancody.com. It was a gift from my husband for Christmas. I love my husband so, so, so, so much. (Do not click on that link at work. Ever.)
- On our first Valentine’s Day together, my husband and I gave each other the exact same Peanuts Valentine’s card. I’m pretty sure that was when I knew all I needed to know. Well, that and when he whipped out Madonna’s Sex book in French, right before he showed me Xanadu and made me very bad spaghetti.