So last weekend I was over at Sev and Lisa’s helping them move a lot of dirt around their backyard, when suddenly a fledgling blue jay attacked Lisa. Okay, it didn’t really attack, it actually flew up to her and landed on her shoulder. As Lisa was wearing gardening gloves, she wisely decided to perch the creature on her wrist. It interrupted work for a while as it took turns landing on each of us and our shoveling implements, in what appeared to be a flagrant act of begging for food. His flying wasn’t too polished, so it must have been just kicked out of the nest by its avian parents. Finally the little fellow got the hang of things and flew away, in search of either real bird food or more gullible humans. Nature in action!
In other news, we went for Japanese food that evening and I got to have sushi for the first time in years. Yum! But I found out that I need remedial chopstick lessons.
Excuse the egotism, let's just chalk it up to inexperienced blogging. We could also call it a psychological exercise of sorts. I keep running across these lists of "100 things about me", only they're not about me, they're about someone else. So I thought I would follow the trend and start my own list with 25 things so as not to be too annoying.
1. I’m from Akron, Ohio, “Rubber Capital of the World”. I was born in a Catholic hospital on Columbus Day in the late 1960’s.
2. I prefer cold weather to hot. I miss overcast days with intermittent drizzle.
3. I’m a Libra, but I have a lot of Scorpio on my chart - and I think my rising sign is Aquarius. I think one’s upbringing has a lot more to do with one’s personality than astrology does, but I still think astrology is interesting.
4. My mother taught me how to be patient with people. She’s the type of person people turn to for advice and comfort. They are in good hands. I wish I could see her more often, I call her a couple of times a week.
5. My dad imbued me with my sense of humor. He was a difficult person to live with, but he had a very rough childhood. I was “daddy’s little girl”. He died about four years ago. Now I think of all sorts of things to ask him about.
6. Other big comedy influences on me are Steve Martin and David Letterman. I have what most people probably think is a puerile sense of humor.
7. I’m frequently described as a smart-ass – to which I reply, “It’s better than being a dumb ass.”
8. I’m left-handed and think being left-handed is cool. It’s much easier now that they’ve invented ergonomic scissors. Those cheese graters they use at Italian restaurants and can openers are designed specifically for the right-handed. Among other things.
9. When being made fun of for my height in elementary school, I took comfort in the fact that one day it would be okay for me to be tall. I was right; I really dig being tall (5’8 1/4” ).
10. I’m very nearsighted - something along the lines of 20/450. I am grateful to whoever invented contact lenses.
11. Every day is best started with a Diet Coke.
12. My brother used to jam with Mark and Bob Mothersbaugh of Devo; they used to practice in our basement. But that’s not why I dig their music. They’re hip, cool, ahead of their time.
13. I’ve been fascinated by ancient Egypt since I was very young.
14. I believe in reincarnation, but I don’t think that I was Cleopatra in a past life.
15. I’m also intrigued by the possibility of alternate universes, of the concept that all possibilities exist.
16. I wish I were rich; I never seem to have enough money.
17. I like both cats and dogs, but appreciate the “low maintenance” of cats. And the fact that cats aren’t obsessed with sniffing everybody’s butt.
18. I am childless by choice; I would make a lousy mother, and childbirth would be pretty risky for my health at any rate.
19. Clutter is, and always has been, an issue for me. I’m trying to get rid of my pack-rat tendencies. I have been making progress recently–I’m taking a lot of stuff to the thrift store run by the battered women’s shelter.
20. If it weren’t for modern medicine, I’d more than likely be dead now.
21. I make my emotional living by making people laugh.
22. I like my current job, but I would still rather be at home working on my various hobbies–sewing, painting, reading and doing research, writing, and window shopping, among other things.
23. I have worked as a shoe salesperson, in the box office of a movie theater, at a university library, at a TJ Maxx, in the university development department (calling alums for donations–if you went to UF and I interrupted your dinner, sorry), at a bank in their customer information center (hated that one), at an art supply store, as a trainer for a computerized industrial embroidery machine distributor, various temp jobs in offices, in an interior design textile showroom (loved that one), as a proofreader, receptionist/technician dispatcher, and as a marketing/advertising jack-of-all trades.
24. I don’t watch a lot of TV. For one, most of it is stupid. Also, I have a hard time just sitting there - it always feels like I should be doing something else at the same time. I do love “The Simpsons”, I try to watch that whenever I can. And “SpongeBob Squarepants” rocks. Denis Leary’s show, “The Job”, was hilarious, I wish they hadn’t cancelled it. I do like to watch football. So-called “reality TV” shows are the pits.
25. I like hockey and football. I need to learn more about hockey, I could probably stand to become a more educated football follower. Baseball is okay, but a little slow, among other things. I hated gym classes in school, I’m more of a spectator that a participant when it comes to sports. Though I was a pretty good ice skater when I lived in Ohio.
The second installment in the embarrassingly self-indulgent "100 Things About Me" List.
26 I’m a very stubborn person. I don’t throw temper tantrums (usually), but if it’s important to me, I figure out how to get my way.
27. I also have a rebellious streak; I tend to resent being told what to do. Resentment leads to stubbornness (see #26).
28. I’m a former shy person. Shyness would come and go while I was growing up. I’d say it’s gone for good at this point. I’m an extrovert now. Being shy is no fun.
29. I don’t care what people think about me anymore.
30. I like to accessorize. I enjoy dressing up. I usually wear some makeup, but not a lot. I suppose lipstick is my essential makeup, but nothing too obnoxious. My girlfriends say I’m a real ‘girly-girl’.
31. My eyelashes are long and thick, the kind mascara commercials promise. Lucky me - I don’t have to wear that stuff.
32. Only recently have I come to accept my nose the way it is. I almost like it.
33. I get compliments on my eye color (blue), people apparently assume I’m wearing colored contact lenses. Nope, I just got lucky in the genetic crap shoot.
34. I can’t stand my voice. It’s a little too deep for a woman’s voice, and it’s kind of nasal. Ugh - can’t stand to hear it. Though, does anyone actually like the sound of his or her voice?
35. My favorite color has always been purple. I remember as a little girl seeing a purple house in Barberton, Ohio–either that inspired me to like purple, or I already liked it by that point. My second favorite color was blue when I was much younger; now it’s green.
36. Scars - there’s a scar on my left knee from having stitches when I was six years old. It was a freak accident involving a broken orange juice glass one Saturday morning. There’s a scar on my left arm where the neighborhood crazy German Shepherd bit me. There’s a couple of scars from scratches on my right arm from childhood.
37. A former friend betrayed me (and other friends) two years ago, after she achieved some rank and status in the SCA. It seems she was just being our friend to get what she wanted, and she dumped us as soon as she got it. Though it hurt at the time, now it’s a source of amusement–what kind of person chooses fawners and flatterers over true friends?
38. The friends I have right now are tried and true; I’m so lucky to have them.
39. The only reason that I stay in Florida is because my mom and all my friends live here. I hate the heat, humidity, roaches, ignorant/dangerous drivers, lack of fall and winter, etc.
40. Leopard print is totally cool.
41. My favorite beverages include chocolate milk, beer, ICJava from Panera Bread, Diet 7-Up, and sparkling water. And don’t forget the obligatory A.M. Diet Coke. I like coffee sometimes, it’s great for socializing after dinner (decaf, please).
42. If I have a beverage with caffeine after about 3 P.M., I won’t be able to sleep that night.
43. I love food, it’s hard for me to narrow down my favorites; I’m especially fond of Buffalo chicken wings, Stouffer’s grilled vegetable French bread pizza, and macaroni and cheese. I try not to like fast food, but cave in to my cravings every so often. Chik-Fil-A rocks.
44. Foreign food that I dig: sushi, Thai , Indian, and you can’t go wrong with Italian food.
45. I like lots of ketchup with my cheeseburger and fries, please.
46. I go through spells where I could eat the same food for days.
47. I’d like to get a tattoo, but Mom won’t let me. My brother has enough tattoos for the both of us. Besides, there’s that whole hepatitis thing. I’d get either the Cheshire Cat (not the Disney version, but the original artwork), a bee, or the image of a falcon pendant from King Tut’s tomb.
48. I think I have a sweet tooth, but I work so hard to control it that it’s probably best not to acknowledge it. Ice cream is always appropriate. Chocolate is A Good Thing, and I would tend to wonder about someone who didn’t like it. White chocolate is A Very Good Thing.
49. I’ve had diabetes since February 1990. I actually prefer the term “sugar problem” - an old friend of mine who was a social worker said her clients used that phrase. I don’t like to talk about it at all, hate testing my blood sugar, hate all the meds I have to take, and hate it when people say, “Oh, you shouldn’t eat that cookie/put sugar in your tea/etc.” (See #27.) As a result, I rarely tell people about my sugar problem.
50. I think that the only person who doesn’t think I’m weird is my mother. I can remember being called weird in the third grade. Read the signatures in my senior yearbook–that’s the word most commonly used to describe me. I don’t mind (see #29), but if you don’t think I’m weird, let me know.
1. The weird lady who sits in her car on her lunch break and feeds the squirrels - she talks to them, too.
2. The weird Asian guy - he eats his noodles with his hands. Dude, bring chopsticks, adapt to forks, or improvise with those coffee stirrer sticks!
3. Loud Tony - His weirdness is in the sheer volume of his voice. You can hear him in his downstairs office from the stairway on the second floor. If he’s anywhere in Marketing, you might as well forget being able to hear yourself think. Loud Tony is the reason that a pair of headphones lives in my desk.
This weekend, I got the oil changed on the Tracker, went to Mal-Wart, got groceries, went to the fabric store, got two new CDs at Best Buy (Beastie Boys and Jimi Hendrix), did tons of laundry, straightened up the bedroom, made curtains for the library, made a pattern for a cavalier-type bodice, cleaned the interior and exterior of the Tracker, watered the flower bed, balanced my checkbook, picked up some friends at the airport, ate dinner with said friends, caught the tail end of the Bucs game, what’s up with the new Redskins uniforms? - oh yeah, and I reorganized the collage on the refrigerator, among other things.
Today I went to the dentist’s for the usual cleaning. I didn’t get to see Dr. Smiley (yes, that’s his real name), I saw “Dr. B”, a jovial fellow who tweaked my nose. He was an older fellow, so that coupled with his pleasant demeanor made the tweaking okay. (Look, Mom, no cavities!) I stopped by my old office while I was in the neighborhood.. Since I haven’t seen my former coworkers for a year or so, it was interesting to note the various reactions to my weight loss (~36 lbs.). As Joe Walsh sings, “Everybody’s so different, I haven’t changed.”
As much as I bitch about Florida, I have to admit that sometimes the scenery here is spectacular. I drive over two bridges on my commute to work, and I’ve seen some amazing sights. Giant fish leaping out of the bay. Every shade of blue/green water possible. Pink tropical birds. Dolphins frolicking in the waves. Huge, imposing cloud banks, the portents of storms. Noble osprey devouring their piscine prey. Pelicans executing daredevil dives. Brightly-colored tropical fauna.
But, until yesterday afternoon, I had never seen a man urinating on a palm tree.
Disturbing signs seen at a recent visit to a hospital:
1. A poster extolling the virtues of accuracy-"Someone's life may depend on it!" Should I be scared that they need to promote accuracy? Is there an inaccuracy issue in this particular hospital?
2. "No Latex Balloons Allowed". This sign forced me to jettison 80% of the festive balloon bouquet I was attempting to deliver to a young patient.
3. "Nuclear Medicine" - I know it's beneficial, it still sounds scary.
4. (On the hospital grounds) "For Your Safety, Please Do Not Feed the Cats" - What are they, stray mountain lions?
5. A big list of various emergency situations, such as irate patient (must have just received the bill for his hospital stay), power outage, tornado, - and "Disaster (David)". This David guy must be a major pain in the butt if he warrants his own warning.
"I'm enjoying reading your blog. Though I already knew most of those things. I don't think you're stubborn."
"Really? Maybe I don't know myself as well as I thought."
"I'm just kidding. You ARE very stubborn."
I think Mom just inherited some smart-ass from her favorite daughter.
Mr. B, The owner of the company I work for, is an avid collector of art, most of it bad. Mr. B is an engineer in his 80s who still comes into the office a couple of times a week. (He's also really into aliens and UFOs, but that's the subject of another entry.) I appreciate the fact that an engineer, traditionally a left-brained creature, is in touch with the right side of his brain enough to appreciate art, even if it's Bad. In fact, some of the Bad Art is of his own creation. His works tend to be abstract pencil sketches built around rubbings of coins. His collection of Bad Art lines the walls here. There's all kinds of styles, especially southwestern and Asian. Let me give you the highlights of some of the works-
Several prints of these black-and-white striped figures. One of the figures is wearing a mask with round eyes and mouth, which gives me the creeps, for some reason. Another figure is tackling a chicken, while another looks on in amusement.
A deer and several cute woodland creatures.
A weathered old cowboy smoking a joint. This is in Mr. B's office.
Several Bad oil paintings of indeterminate landscapes.
Four black and white prints of what appear to be South American cowboys and Vikings together.
A really disturbing print by a Russian artist. I can't even begin to describe it. It's just scary. The HR person and I agree that this one has been the subject of at least one bad dream. Maybe I can take a picture of it and post it here someday.
A print of clown Emmett Kelly. This is in a conference room that the engineers use, so it's extra strange to see this unhappy clown next to complex equations scribbled on the board. Apparently there was an even bigger Emmett Kelly picture that was destroyed when a tornado hit the building several years ago. There was much rejoicing over the demise of the picture, I'm told.
A little boy in lederhosen smoking a pipe.
It's not like I've never created Bad Art myself. In fact, I made a couple of Bad self-portraits during my Depressed Art Student phase that would be quite at home on the walls here. But since I'm told Mr. B has even more Bad Art in storage, it's unlikely mine will ever be displayed in this particular venue.
Just when you thought it was safe to read my blog...Here, read this while I try to figure out how to call Nigeria on my office phone.
51. I wish I could go back in time, and give my past self some pointers, maybe avoid a couple of pitfalls. I’d also tell my mom to buy Microsoft stock.
52. I was a dateless wonder in high school and college.
53. Maybe I didn’t get any dates in high school because I took Latin from grades 8-12. Tragically, I only remember a fraction of what I learned. I liked it, though my teacher was somewhat shrewish. I went to several state and national Latin student competition/conventions.
54. I’ve worked on publications since the 9th grade, when I was editor of the “Junior High Journal”. I was editor for the state geeky Latin students’ group publication (called “Uvae Vitas” - “The Grape Vine” - get it?), I was yearbook photographer my senior year, had some articles published in the UF student paper, and made newsletters for employers. Maybe I should have stuck with journalism as a major (it’s my minor), but I didn’t like interviewing people at the time.
55. I also flirted with a visual communications major for a couple of semesters. College art professors have such weird agendas for their students, none of which include teaching technique.
56. I eventually settled on a degree in English Literature. I think if I had been a more aware person, I would have stayed in academia and pursued a career as a college English professor. As long as that wouldn’t have required me to wear tweed jackets with patches on the elbows, I think I would have enjoyed that.
57. I frequently got in trouble in school for talking to my fellow students. I would like all my teachers who complained about my excessive chatter to know that my business card says I am a “Communications Specialist”. So there.
58. Some things I remember from elementary school: the swing sets, hating phys. ed., rows of boots lined up in the hallways during winter, having problems with long division in third grade, peanut butter chocolate squares, chocolate milk and ten cent ice cream sandwiches being available on Fridays, tornado drills sending us to the cafeteria, being perplexed by ‘Doonesbury’ (“Why isn’t this comic strip funny?”), enjoying the school library, cutting up in music class, coming into the building after recess in the winter and not being able to see from the glare on the snow, having to throw up and seriously considering leaning over the stairway for comic effect, and rusty water from the water fountains.
59. I was a sorority girl - Sigma Sigma Sigma, Rho Chapter, FSU. We were the black sheep sorority, the smallest sorority on campus, definitely not the snooty type. We were two houses down from the Chi Omega house, where Ted Bundy committed those murders years ago. Walking past it used to give me the creeps.
60. I’m a collegiate anomaly–I attended FSU for two years, then transferred to UF, where I earned my degree. I probably should have just gone into therapy for a semester or two rather than changing schools. I usually cheer for whoever has a better chance at the national championship when they play each other.
61. I wish I could remember how to read music. I had piano lessons and played flute for a few years in my youth. I wanted to learn percussion, but Mom put her foot down. Can’t say that I blame her, in retrospect. For years, until recently, in fact, I used to have dreams that I was back in high school and in the drum section. I got turned off to the flute when the junior high band director placed me in beginner band even though I had played for two years. By the time my disruptive behavior alerted him to his tragic mistake, I was pretty much a lost cause to that particular instrument. My brother gave me a snare drum and cymbal for Christmas, so maybe I will get around to learning drums one day.
62. I also wish I could sing. A few months ago I started singing in the car, since I have a fairly long commute. There’s a Blondie song and a couple of others I work on. But I very seriously doubt I’ll try to sing them in anyone’s hearing.
63. I wanted to be a writer for the longest time - as far back as third grade. I hate the fiction I’ve tried to write. Thanks in large part to the SCA, I’ve been doing a lot of nonfiction writing, which doesn’t seem too horrifically bad.
64. I was almost a tomboy, I remember hanging out with the boys in the tree house in the vacant lot next to our house. I didn’t play with baby dolls, but I did play with Barbies with the neighborhood girls. I invented elaborate, soap opera-like story lines. I also remember spending a lot of time on my own, riding my bike through the local park, going up to the Lawson’s to buy comic books.
65. I have severe math phobia. It’s so foreign to the way my brain is wired that it scares me, especially algebra. I failed algebra a number of times in high school and college. It finally came down to a semester where I had to pass both statistics and college math or flunk out of college. I got Cs in both classes. Close call. I used to have dreams where I was back in school and had to pass math, and usually I hadn’t been attending class. Though I can do shopping math, I can usually compute discounts and how much of a tip to leave. But that’s about it.
66. I’m pretty observant and can usually piece together what’s going on, so it’s hard to surprise me. Though my husband fooled me last year and had a surprise birthday celebration for me with my friends.
67. I’m jumpy and startle easily, especially if someone walks into a room and I’m not expecting them. Sudden noises will startle me. Apparently I’ve always been that way.
68. I hate when people are behind me, don’t like that at all. I’m getting worse about this one.
69. I used to have somewhat of a tornado phobia as a youth in Ohio. Now I’d like to see one, but not coming toward my house.
70. Roaches are absolutely disgusting; ewwwww! They are so gross that I can’t kill them by squishing them because they are particularly gross in death by squishing. I will spray them with bug spray though. I tolerate spiders because they tend to eat other pests. Snakes are neat, people shouldn’t kill them just because they’re snakes, poisonous ones excepting. Lizards are neat too, as long as they don’t get inside the house. And recently I’ve adopted the bee as a personal symbol of sorts, but I haven’t figured out the exact significance. I just like them.
71. Other totem animals besides bees are peacocks (mainly because their feathers are so pretty), leopards (because of leopard print, and the fact that they hunt for sport, which is just makes them more bad-ass cool) and cows. Cows are a family totem, my father liked them and I think my brother does too. Moooo!
72. Over the past year or two I’ve started to feel uneasy around staircases, especially the open kind; I’m thinking that in a past life I fell to my death down a staircase when I was about the age I currently am, which explains why this is a recent development.
73. In the Eighties, I had at least three premonitions of people’s deaths. My grandfather (Dad’s father), my uncle’s stepson, and a high school friend. The third one was the saddest. We were in college, both at UF, and I hadn’t seen him for a while, but he happened to call to talk to my roommate (another high school friend). I answered the call, and we chatted for a few minutes. I had the oddest thought, that he was contemplating suicide, though nothing he said indicated he was depressed. I couldn’t think of a way to ask, “Are you suicidal?”, so went on with my life, which consisted at that particular time of moving into a new apartment. A couple of weeks later, my former roomie called me in tears-he had killed himself. So, yes, I do believe that psychic ability is possible, and yes, I do have a lot of guilt over that event. I haven’t had any death premonitions since.
74. On a lighter note-my two signature fragrances are Tea Rose (by the Perfumer’s Workshop) and Enchanted Apple (by Victoria’s Secret). Both are hard to come by, so I stockpile them. Whenever someone compliments me on my scent du jour, I panic that maybe I’ve put too much on.
75. I’ve traveled to at least 30 states. I liked Omaha, NE, though I expected to hate it. I didn’t like Detroit at all. Colorado Springs was my favorite city to visit when I was travelling for a living, I always lobbied to get the assignments that would take me there. And Ohio, of course.
In nature, notice how the male works to attract the female. Peacocks (ever seen a peahen? Bor-ring!), and cardinals, for example, are endowed with spectacular plumage, the better to bring the ladies flying in from all around.
But in humans, it’s the opposite. Women cleanse, moisturize, mud pack, pluck, mow, shave, scrub, sandblast, and then paint themselves in an attempt to make themselves more attractive. They chant, "We must, we must, we must increase our bust", and do whatever exercise goes along with said chant, trying to make their sweaters fit better. But men are just wash and go, maybe apply a little cologne, and that’s all they have to do! What is up with that?
