Ten Random Things You Never Knew About Me

I try to keep a balance between enough self-disclosure to keep readers interested and not so much that strangers can figure out who I am. Is it weird to want privacy as you blare your personal business in a public space?

Anyways, in the interest of letting you all (ye) know a little bit more about myself, here's the beginning of a list of semi-odd things about me. I'm not truly strange, just a bit quirky. But, in a totally funny and sexy way of course! :-)

1. When I start laughing really hard, my arms stop working. Strange, but true! I can do large movements like wipe up the table, but fine motor tasks like writing are totally beyond me. An undiagnosed nerve problem?
2. I'm a total night owl, but love my sleep and can sleep anywhere. Once, in college, I fell asleep in a crowded bar at the table with all my friends. And no, the fact that I'd used a fake ID to get in had nothing to do with it. Although, having all black people look alike does work in our favor sometimes :-)
3. I'm a recovering nail biter. Nothing makes a teenager feel even stronger in her self-esteem than to always be worrying at a finger stuck in her mouth and then have "well-meaning" adults in her life ask if she's feeling anxious. Heck yes I'm feeling anxious! I'm 14, sure I'm a total social misfit but that everyone else is totally comfortable in themselves, and am convinced that any minute now somebody's going to figure out that I'm really not as smart and "mature for my age" as everyone keeps saying I am. Lay off and just let me just read my book in peace, will ya?!
4. I'm a total sap. I cry every time I hear the American Anthem sung. I cry at Hallmark commercials, Extreme Home Makeover episodes, and sappy TV movies of the week. I almost never cry for myself.
   
5. I'm a not-so closeted Trekkie and Battlestar Galactica fanatic. I was also a HUGE fan of Buffy The Vampire Slayer, Angel, and pretty much all Joss Whedon projects. I am a geek.
6. Every birthday, Christmas and Valentine's card I've ever gotten are stored away safely. I would NEVER throw them out. That would be like totally rude and mean!
7. I've been kicked out of a foreign country AND off a NATO base. Not my fault. Plus, I was only 20, it doesn't count.
   
8. My niece and nephew have a special name for me, Ti-ti, from when my niece couldn't pronounce the "Auntie" or "Tia" we were trying to make her learn. Every time I hear them use it my heart swells just a little bit.
   
9. Going to my 10th high school reunion was a total mistake. I'd had a lot of nostalgia about high school and this totally killed it. The 25th is coming up next year, I wonder if it's still too soon?
10. I hate litterers. Hate them, Hate Them, HATE THEM! It's all about consideration for others and the environment people! Why is that so hard to keep in mind? Were you raised by animals? And yes, cigarettes DO COUNT as trash when you flick them out your car window or as you're walking along.
    

Blue Tsunami

We now take an unscheduled break from the usual reflections on the pleasures of life in Cork for some lamentably (and possibly soon-to-be regretted) uncensored and disjointed ranting. Ya'll are just going to have to bear with me....

Today felt like a tidal wave of emotion just rose up, crashed through my wall of defenses, leaving it in soggy ruins, and sucked me under. I'm struggling to breathe the best way I know how by doing what I do best, self-analyzing the heck out of myself. (And, since you're my "captive" audience, you're stuck listening to me!) Intellectualization.... Jonathan, my old therapist, as well as some of you other "privileged" ones will recognize that as my stock in trade. But hey, at least I'm doing something rather than curled in the a fetal ball of soggy distress the way I really wish I could be.

Here's the truth: I'm sick. Tired. In withdrawal after so much family time. Worried to moderately panicked. Missing you all so much I could scream. And so pissed off at myself for so many reasons, including being totally ineffectual at work the last could of days, I can't breathe!

It all came to a head during spinning class today. 45 mins of pure physical activity that, while clearing enough head space so I could start listening to myself, also wasn't enough to let me escape from myself. The brain would just not shut off. No matter what tried and true self-hypnosis or breathing technique I used, could just not find the zone. The result? I totally phoned it in. No endorphins. No sense of accomplishment. Just me going round and round in circles in my head, lambasting myself and mentally yelling at GG. Until the perfect song came on! This is either an example of perfect, universe-imposed synchronicity or I made it all up. But I could swear (hah!) the electronic dance mix went like this: Melody = "F--- the F--- of It"; Chorus = "F--- This". That's it. The Whole Song. Perfect.

Just to make it a little less perfect though, as I'm driving home, desperately trying to pay attention to the road and not mess up big-time before my Driver Theory Test exam tomorrow morning, who should try calling(!!) me? GG. I didn't pick up and, since I was driving (and pissed off as hell at him), I let it go to voicemail. Haven't listened to it yet. Is there any reason to? Is ignoring him all during class and being the first one out the door the only way to get him to step up? Really? Is he really that lame?

I need a drink. Several drinks. Or a massage. A massage while drinking? No, really all I need is for someone who gives a hoot about me to give me a hug and let me calm down long enough to squeeze out a few tears and start venting. But no, I had to move eons away from everyone who cares about me. Why am I over here? So far away from my friends we all feel reluctant to pick up the phone and "bother" each other.

Almost the capper: I'm diverted via the hell that is the new Douglas roundabout construction fiasco and, as I'm rounding the other roundabout (45 secs from home), I pull out in front of a motorcycle Garda, who proceeds to put on his indicator and follow me to the gates of my apartment complex before going merrily on his little way. Now that would have been the perfect end to a perfect day.

Disclaimer: Don't worry mom, sis, other concerned readers, I'm really not as despondent as I sound here. I'm actually doing well. I'm blessed in so many ways, I know that. This is just the closest to therapy and immediate access venting to you all as I can get right now. If I had the $25 per person you all deserve for listening to me here ($150 per therapy hour; I figure it took you 5-10 mins), I'd definitely send it to you. Sublimation, thy name is blogging!