One of my favorite people tagged me with an Honest Scrap award. I think blog awards are really sweet and fun. I think they connect virtual strangers in a very unique way. It’s one of the things I really love about blogging.
However, I personally don’t often participate because one, I don’t like to leave people out, and two, once I feel at all forced to do something, I go running in the opposite direction. But I like the idea behind this one. I mean, I could talk about myself all day long. And it was fun to come up with things that I haven’t yet shared with you. So, here you go. You’re welcome.
I smile and say hello to coworkers when I pass them in the hallway. (I’m polite like that.) (And I find it INCREDIBLY FUCKING RUDE when others don’t do the same.) But I find myself still smiling for a long time after I’ve moved on. I have to actually tell myself to stop. And it’s not like I was all that happy to see them. No, my thoughts have completely moved on to another subject, yet I’m still smiling like a fool. By myself. What’s awesome is when I look up with a shit-eating grin on my face to find someone staring at me.
I am constantly imagining how conversations will go. I think about what I’ll say and how I’ll say it. And I move my lips along with the conversation. I’m not even kidding. (And, no, I don’t do this while reading.) So, yeah, I basically walk around like I’m talking to myself.
I talk and think about vomiting a lot. I really don’t understand it. Whenever I eat something new, I think will this make me throw up? When The Husband hugs me, I always pretend to vomit on him if he squeezes too hard.
Once, at the grocery store, I said, “I think I’m gonna RALPH!” and then The Husband said, “Who’s Ralph?” This made me laugh. Later, while still at the store, I said, “I think I’m gonna HURL!” And before he could respond, I yelled, “Who’s HURL!?” This made me laugh uncontrollably. (I have a lacking sense of humor, but I make myself laugh constantly. The Husband says it’s not funny if you laugh at your own jokes. I know, secretly, he finds me hysterical.)
I only read romance novels. I know I’ve already told you how much I enjoy them, but in all seriousness, I ONLY READ ROMANCE NOVELS. I try reading others. Actually, I have knocked back a couple of Sidney Sheldon books (I love love loved If Tomorrow Comes and Best Laid Plans) and I’ve even read Skinny Dip by Carl Hiassen which I thoroughly enjoyed, but these days I don’t even bother looking at other genres.
I’m sure many people would say I’m missing out, but they entertain me and make me happy. Even as a teenager, I read books by Richie Tankersley Cusick and Christopher Pike because there was always that little spark of innocent romance between the two main characters that’d make me sigh and my young, inexperienced heart go pitter-pat. I am a total sucker for a love story.
I check the locks in our apartment multiple times each night. I’m not sure if this is due to an undiagnosed case of OCD or if it’s just a lingering habit from my childhood, but I can’t seem to help myself. When I was a teenager, I was always the last to go to bed. My step-dad would say goodnight and ask me to lock up. But, even then, I’d check the locks, like, three or four times.
Once while my younger brother lived with us in Monterey, he came home and left the front door open. And I mean OPEN. I had heard him come in and, even though I tried to reassure myself he was responsible and locked the door, I couldn’t get the nagging suspicion out of my head. Finally, unable to sleep, I went downstairs just to check and found the door wide open and our old, fat cat wandering around outside.
I find it impossible to use random numbers while editing pictures in Photoshop. They MUST be multiples of 5. For example: if I’m adjusting the brightness, the level has to be set to 5, 10, 15, 20, etc. Not 12. Not 18. Not 27. If I’m adjusting the exposure, the level has to be set to 25, 50, 75, etc. Sometimes while in the Raw editor, I’ll click on “auto” to see what settings Photoshop chooses. If I like them (which I rarely do) I’ll keep them, but not before adjusting the values to the nearest multiple of 5. (Because God forbid my recovery slider be set to something crazy like 17.)
I went to three different high schools within my freshman and sophomore years. As soon as I turned 16, I took the California High School Proficiency Exam and received my diploma equivalent. I then took two very light semesters at a junior college and haven’t been back since. Now, ten years later, I am preparing to register for a couple of classes come Fall and I’m terrified and excited all at the same time. I could care less about a degree. I just want to learn.