six rhymes with hicks, kicks, sticks and dicks
I have no idea what that title even means, but I do know that it’s true, so that’s enough.
Anyway, I’m supposed to do this meme thing, the one where I tell you six quirky things about myself. I know I am supposed to do this meme thing, because I was tagged by Tiff. I am sure I’ve done this meme thing once already, and maybe even more than once, but since it’s not like I am full to overflowing with blog material these days, and since it’s also not like I’m not some sort of repository of quirk, I figure I can do it again. This meme thing has rules, some of which I am intending to break, but I can at least tell you what they are:
* Link to the person who tagged you.
* Post the rules on your blog.
* Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself.
* Tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs.
* Let each random person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their website.
And now, as the kids say, it’s business time:
(I hope I haven’t told you all of these things already.)
1. I feel that in the years since I graduated college, I’ve been getting dumber. I know that I’m not dumb, and I just use my brain for things that don’t involve writing papers, which is totally fine, but still, there’s part of me that feels guilty about… I don’t even know what it is, exactly. And the reason why I don’t know what it is is because I’ve gotten dumber! Gah! In five more years, I probably won’t even be able to spell anymore.
2. I always have about 15 crushes. At once. Always. It’s mainly because I am attracted to so many different things in so many different people that I may have one crush because someone is so ridiculously smart, and another one because someone is always hilarious, and yet another because someone is so painfully hot it makes me feel kinda funny, like when we used to climb the rope in gym class. (Yes, I did just make a reference to Wayne’s World, and I might have a crush on you if you knew that.)
3. Speaking of hotness, I have a thing for contractors. Have I ever mentioned this before? Guys who build things and fix things. My God. Apparently, some women have a thing for men in uniform, but I have a thing for men covered in paint splatters and drywall dust. And power tools? Hahaha I’m getting flustered.
4. I hate having my picture taken. This is perhaps odd, considering the fact that I’m doing this self-portrait-a-day thing (and it often feels like the longest year of my life, but I’m too stubborn to quit), but if anything, I think this may have exacerbated the problem. In truth, I am not that photogenic, and if you’d like proof, you can look through snapshots other people have taken of me, but first you’ll have to pry them from my cold, dead hands. People think I’m photogenic, but that’s mostly because I know what it takes to get a good photo of myself (and also, the outtakes never see the light of day). It’s not that I’m actually hideous or anything, I mean, I look the way I look. It’s more that I don’t know what it is about photographs of me taken by other people, but I almost always end up looking like some kind of mutant. My point is, don’t take pictures of me. I’m not kidding. I hate it.
5. Speaking of looks and whatever, which I guess I kind of was, it’s not that it isn’t flattering to be called pretty, because it is, I guess, but I always think it’s such a weird compliment, especially since I really have very little to do with what I look like. I mean, that’s all genetics. In fact, I remember one potentially romantic moment (that I totally ruined) where a boy brushed hair away from my face and said “You’re cute as hell” and I replied with “I’ll be sure to thank my parents for passing on the favorable genes.” I have my mom’s bone structure, I have my dad’s coloring (and chin… our chins are exactly the same). It could’ve gone all wrong, and it’s really just a matter of chance, what I look like. I’d much rather be complimented on something I actually had something to do with, like my winning personality. (Heh.) Am I the only girl on the planet who is indifferent toward being called pretty?
6. I read the end of the book before I finish it. I argue that this does not ruin the book for me at all, because I still have to find out how everything got to that point, and often, it heightens the curiosity for me. It’s not some sort of When Harry Met Sally sort of thing, where I have to know how the book ends in case I die before I finish it, though that may be a subconscious part of it, since I think about dying a lot. I’m sort of sickly obsessed with my own mortality. But it’s mostly that I want to know if I should keep going with it or not. Every book I have not read the end of first, I have not finished. So there.
Okay, there you have it. Six things. And here’s the part where I break the meme rules by not tagging anybody. If you haven’t done it and want to, be my guest. Or if you have done it and you want to do it again, I’m not stopping you. Have at it or don’t. The choice is yours.
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Pretty’s not the best thing to be, but I guess it’s better than nothing.
I sort of regret including that on the list, because reading it over now, I think it makes me sound conceited or something, which is SO not how I meant it. It’s not like compliments aren’t nice. I don’t know, I’m just going to shut up.
I’ve never been told I was “pretty” (thank God); but I have gotten compliments on my eyes. Best birthday present ever, I guess.
Those things we have no control over: weird. On the one hand, I like to know that I didn’t get the short end of the stick. On the other hand, I agree–compliments on permanent characteristics are useless after the first one. Then again, if you know you have a winning personality (or are a darn good photographer), would a compliment on it mean that much?
I don’t know. It’s not like I hate it or anything. Furthermore, it’s not like if someone compliments me that way I think “I know that already. Be original.” I don’t live my day-to-day life being oh so impressed with what I look like. At all. So it’s nice when someone says something nice and I’m always grateful if someone takes the time to do so. I’m not really sure what my hang up is.
I think you have overated yourself. You not only inherited your awesome bone structure from your mother, but also your winning personality. Where else could you have learned the pleasure of irony or witty sarcastic one-liner comebacks? Oh shuckins! I’m just being facetious (how do you spell that word, and where are you when I don’t have spell checker).
I love who you are. And sometimes wish this was one book that I could read the ending now. But, halas, halas, I cannot. I do know that all my dreams for the future are dedicated to you and your happiness. Keep growing. Swaddle yourself in all your prettiness as you let your spirit touch the world around you and watch that innerlove glow into the beautiful woman you grow into each day.
who loves you!
Hells to bells, nephew. Its me. (did I quote that right?)
I returned to graduate school 8 years after the bachelors degree and, while I wasn’t sitting in a dark room playing with a rubber ball during that time, I also wasn’t doing anything extremely mentally challenging. So, when I started the masters degree a couple years ago, I had to relearn how to study, how to really listen in a class, how to do a lot of things that you take for granted as a student. Having finished the masters and now preparing to move on to a PhD, I look back at last couple years and wonder how the hell I did it. So, you’re not getting dumber, it’s just that the hamster in your head is running on a different wheel when you’re not in academia.
Also, you’re very pretty. So, shut up.
well you need to teach me how to make me look like that in self portraits.
also i have a million crushes, it’s a problem. no it’s not, i love it.
Anniefay — I’m sorry, I couldn’t get past “Oh shuckins!”
Sir — At the risk of hating myself for using an emoticon without a hint of irony, this is my reply to your comment —
tiff — Having a million crushes is fun. Fun, fun, fun. As for the self portrait thing, not that I am an expert (in anything), but for my purposes, it means taking a lot (A LOT) of photos that totally suck. The mistakes teach you all sorts of things: what light works, what settings to use on the camera for what purpose (I still don’t shoot on full manual mode most of the time, but I play with shutter speeds all the time), what angles to use. Sometimes I know exactly what I want and get it in 5 frames or less, but a lot of the time, I don’t know, so I don’t rush myself and I experiment a lot. There are more bad pictures of me in the universe than there are good ones, I assure you.
It’s not that I mind compliments on my looks per se, it’s just that I don’t know how the hell to deal with them. Because a)What? Who? and b)Um … thanks? I guess? I turn the nicest things into DRAMA.
And I wish I could take photos of myself (or that anyone could take photos of me, really) that I wouldn’t mind putting on the internet. Maybe that’s something I could challenge myself on to learn how to take better pictures. FYI, I am SO jealous of your mad photography skillz.
I really can’t enjoy a book that can be spoiled by reading the last page. There are books like that out there, where partway through, I just want to know the ending and couldn’t care less how they get there. I will peek at the end, and then give up on the book. I much prefer a book where the journey is the most important part.