My birthday happened a couple of months ago. I'm 33 years old, and I really am having a hard time believing it. I mean seriously: WHERE HAS THE TIME GONE?!? It's crazy! I can now see why so many people have a hard time with entering the realm of middle-aged-ness. It's a real shock to go from feeling like a teenager or even a 20-something kid, and suddenly have the calendar staring you in the face, flipping you the bird and laughing: "Ha! Guess what! Now blow out your candles before the cake goes up in flames!"
I'm not saying that I feel particularly old. I'm not saying that I have any regrets for how I think I should have been spending the last 33 years. I have a great life, and I'm happy with where I am. It's just going by so FAST! Geez! It's crazy!
Okay, rant over for now. Anyway, in order to celebrate my 33rd Birthday, and my 5-year Blogiversary, (which actually happened on June 2nd), I've decided to reveal 11 things about myself that I'm pretty sure I've never revealed here before (although I could be wrong).
Why 11, you ask? Because 33 = 3 + 3 = 6, plus 5 = 11. Get it? Good. Moving on...
11) Although I might seem pretty open and even outgoing here in the blogosphere, I am painfully timid socially. Perhaps I have said this before, but here's an example of how painful this timidity can be: Even when it comes to people with whom I have a good, friendly relationship, I very rarely approach them in public social situations. I will hang back, sitting or standing alone, until I am approached by someone. Apparently my fear of rejection is so great, I'd rather sit in silence and be alone than put myself out there and be rebuffed. I don't know if that makes me overly cautious, or a total complete chicken. (If you're sitting there thinking there is no difference between those two phrases, you are WRONG!) Either way, that's who I am. I am extremely careful about who I "let in" to my inner circle. I think maybe 4 people have ever reached that point with me in my entire lifetime. Oh sure, people get pretty close, but there are very, VERY few people whom I feel I can trust implicitly.
10) I LOVE watching "Phineas and Ferb." It's one of the best kid shows ever made. It's hilarious and clever, and I just really enjoy watching it. Oh sure, it's made for kids, but we all know those writers were keeping the parents in mind when they put the show together. Absolutely brilliant!
9) I will never stop loving old musical movies. "Singin' in the Rain" with Gene Kelley? Yes please! "The Court Jester" with Danny Kaye? Sign me up! "Hello Dolly" with Walter Matthau, Barbara Streisand, and Michael Crawford? Excuse me while I get some popcorn! I was raised watching these classics with my family, and we will always be grateful that we had parents who loved us enough to expose us to these fun movies as children.
8) I HATEHATEHATEHATEHATE being scared, startled, or creeped out in any way. I DO NOT watch horror movies. I REFUSE to go to Haunted Houses, Corn Mazes, or anything else that involves chainsaw-waving lunatics in masks. It's not just for my sake that I avoid these things, trust me! My little sister is still traumatized by the instance in which she came haplessly around a corner just as I was attempting to turn that same corner in the opposite direction. She startled me so much I screamed and slapped her on the arm so hard she had a hand print there all day. I realize of course that she did not intend to frighten me, but my "fight or flight" response was awakened that day, and apparently I chose to fight. Sorry, Sis!
7) Speaking of my family, I shared a room until I was 15 years old. I shared with my older sister for a while, but then when she got old enough, my parents moved her into her own room, and I shared with my younger sister for a LONG time (yes, the same younger sister that got slapped for being in the wrong place at the wrong time). We drove each other CRAZY. Everyone who knew Minnie was always talking about how cute she was, how funny and sweet. I always rolled my eyes, because only I knew the TRUTH. Once we stopped having to share a room, however, and I was finally installed in my own bedroom in the basement, I suddenly started to realize that those people had been right. Minnie is the life and soul of any room that she happens to be in. I love her to pieces, now.
6) When I was in Junior High and High School, and I happened to be seated next to a particular type of person, those people pretty much ALWAYS decided that I was their new favorite person. They would open up to me, talk to me, and wave at me in the halls. What type of people were they? Stoners, troublemakers, anxiety/depression sufferers and overall rebels. Not kidding. Every day those stoner kids would show up to class, smelling like weed and they would just talk to me like we had known each other all our lives. One of them was a girl who was absolutely convinced that my name was "Kansas." I never corrected her. I figured she was close enough. A guy in my math class showed me his self harm scars and talked to me about how much he hated his abusive dad. A girl in my Sophomore choir class told me she was pregnant, and talked to me freely about her problems.
The more I consider these people, the more I think that the reason they liked me and opened up to me was the fact that I didn't judge them. I listened, and I talked to them and never raised an eyebrow no matter what they told me about themselves. I never considered myself to be any better than they were. I know how flawed I am. Who am I to judge others just because their flaws are different from mine? I have a lot of weaknesses, make no mistake. But I do have one strength: I'm accepting. You can come to me with just about any kind of baggage, and I won't hold it against you. Have a cookie.
5) Housework is...not my forte. I hate doing it, because I see very little point in doing something that will only be UN-done within five minutes of my finishing it. But I give in, because no matter how much I hate doing housework, I hate living in filth even more.
4) It may seem like a pretty lame fact about me, but my hair is currently longer than it's been since I was 12 years old. It's somewhere around my shoulder blades, and I have no intention of chopping it off any time soon. It used to be that once Springtime rolled around, off I would trot to the hairdressers to get whatever Wintertime mange I'd managed to grow completely chopped--usually into a shaggy pixie cut. Even when I was growing out my hair, I never let it grow past my shoulders. But about 18 months ago, I decided that I would not let myself cut my hair off until I'd finished my Bachelors Degree. Once I graduate, that option is once again open to me. And I might even walk away from that stylist's chair with purple streaks. Why? Because purple is my favorite color, and because I can. We'll see how bold I feel that day, but to be perfectly honest, I'll probably chicken out.
3) I never paint my fingernails, because I have ridiculously stubby fingers. Painting the nails only enhances the stubbiness. Not to mention the fact that I always keep my nails super short, so painting them is pretty pointless. I do this for several reasons: a) If I let them get too long, I start biting them and they end up super short anyway. b) They break/split very easily. c) Long nails make playing the guitar properly pretty much impossible.
2) I hate and despise needles. They have always freaked me out on so many levels. This is the reason that I never gave blood--I figured the last thing those good kind people at the blood bank needed was a woman who would panic and possibly even pass out at the first sight of a needle coming anywhere near her arm. I was comfortable with that part of my personality for a long time. Then, a few years ago, what was supposed to be a simple outpatient surgery went horribly wrong and I ended up needing two blood transfusions. I still remember waking up from anesthesia with a screaming headache, and feeling so weak. I also remember how much better I felt after the transfusions. My headache subsided, and I felt so much more like myself again. It still took me several weeks of taking an iron supplement to be completely normal again, but those transfusions really made a difference for me, and I remember feeling so grateful.
Since then, I wanted to pay it forward by giving blood at least once in my life. About a year or so ago, I finally had that opportunity and I took it. I went and donated blood, and you know what? It wasn't anywhere nearly as bad as I'd been anticipating. I might even do it again. But the aftermath of my first ever experience with donating blood was extremely tough, because that same night we went out to a new restaurant that had gotten mixed reviews and I ended up with a HORRIFIC case of food poisoning. Between giving blood and losing every other possible fluid in my body in the most violent of fashions, I have never been more weak, dehydrated, or miserable. I'll have to be MUCH choosier about my food choices the next time I want to give blood. I'm thinking soup and Saltines...
1) I cry at Disney movies. Seriously, all the time. "Up"? I sobbed. "Frozen"? Gee whiz! Where are my tissues? "Brave"? Bawled at the end. Oh and don't even get me started on "Toy Story 3"! The end of that movie never fails to throw me into a fit of tears. Most recently, in the theater, I freaking cried during "Inside Out". Multiple times. It's just a good thing we had napkins with us! What can I say? I'm a big softie, and Disney REALLY knows how to set me off. It's a gift, I guess. Or just a bunch of writers and animators that understand enough about human nature to get a big goof like me to weep like a little girl...Either way, I will always love Disney. Disney movies, Disneyland, it's all right up my alley of cheesy, feel good fun.
Alright, I think I've gone on long enough. Thanks for bearing with me, and I'll try to post again soon. I've got stories about taking the GRE, and my most recent family vacation. Oh yes! Stay tuned! (All 3 of you...)
