May 31st, 2007
One of the things I struggle with on this blog is my urge to be totally, grossly honest (“So-and-so is such a freaking idiot, can you believe it? Wait till I tell you…”) while maintaining some sort of decency and respectability. What if my anonymity was blown and people at school or work found this? The consequences make my stomach turn. As a result I can’t just be totally honest. I try to write with the idea in mind that one day someone of significance to my life will find this blog, but I have to say I’ve probably already blown my image if that’s the case. Sometimes I fall back on my fantasy belief that my true identity can never be discovered. Well, by anyone other than the friends who already know me. Of course this is nothing more than fantasy. One day, when I get all professional, I may have to deep six the blog to protect my professional identity (did you like how I used “deep six” totally spontaneously? Fucking cool!). In the last week I’ve read about no less then three law suits that were brought or lost due to content on the person in question’s blog (all three were doctors). That’s a scary thought!
So, assuming my ID gets outed one day, I have to self censor. But what if it never happens and I miss the opportunity to go on and on about my fellow students, my work, my screwy family, my true thoughts about things that happen and interactions I have? I guess that’s the price I pay for having an online blog. Alas! Because I totally have some good dirt I could share.
In a perfect world, this blog would function as a no holds barred venting space where I could focus my ire-ful attention on the minutia that makes me crazy. It would be funny. And possibly grounds for dismissal. Why is life so unfair? (Note: said with sarcasm. Only the bourgeios have these kinds of problems. It’s a very white, priviledged problem and I know it.)
The one thing I can probably talk about is me. I was thinking about doing one of those 100 things about me lists, and I may still. But here’s a taste of my top 10:
1. I hate wearing socks and never do if I can get away with it. When I come home, I take off the socks at the same time as the shoes. I cannot understand people who wear shoes inside. Feet need to be free.
2. I don’t understand people who don’t read. What do you people do? (Except Esan: I know he’s out conquering the world one sport at a time, and is excused from reading. I want my blog url on his Tour de France bike.)
3. I have incredibly vivid, cogent, sensual dreams (sensual meaning involving the senses, not necessarily sexual). Movies play out in my dreams. Sometimes I have serial dreams that last over a course of nights with the narrative picking up and progressing each night. I also get night terrors once in a rare while, which sucks harsh donkey cock. I burst out of sleep gasping and terrified, heart slamming and sweating, clutching the bedclothes but struggling to sit up, jam packed with adrenaline. Of course nothing is there. But you try falling asleep after that happens! Good luck! I’ve lucid dreamed twice and it was the best dreaming of my life. In one I controlled my drifting flight over a tennis court and surrounding buildings; in the other I did naughty things I can’t tell you about. Grrrrrawr!
4. I drink about 2L of diet pop a day. Husband never gets any because I drink it all.
5. I’m phonophobic and often go a week or more without answering it. I just let it ring, telling myself if it’s important they’ll leave a voicemail. Then I don’t check voicemail for a week or so. I am somewhat of a phonophobe. I do however obsessively check email, so that’s the way to contact me.
6. I never lose my keys. Ever. Actually, about once a year I lose my keys, and because I have no skills in place to deal with this crisis, my head explodes. Just ask Glass Hurricane, she can tell you.
7. I clean my ears with Q-tips, even though they say you shouldn’t. I derive inordinant pleasure when I get a good waxy clump. Very satistying.
8. I can’t stand to have my navel touched. No one touches my navel, not even Husband, who would like to. Fingers in my navel make me squirm and feel like barfing. I do clean in there (it’s quite deep with a wedge at the bottom, so stuff gets trapped in there) but I have to brace myself and just power through. I consider navel cleaning only slightly less unpleasant than a pelvic exam.
9. I think Oprah is a bossy, self important know it all who clearly does not know it all – and yet feels compelled to tell you all about it. The woman promoted The Secret, which is utter vomit on the scale of purchases (best being kittens and puppies, worst a pail of steaming vomit).
10 I secretly judge everyone. Even you.
I keep somewhat busy, I guess, but that’s no excuse not to read. I really do wish I did it more often. In a couple of weeks, when the NBA playoffs are over, I intend to cancel my cable for the summer…that’ll probably help.
That being said, I’m actually having trouble putting down a book right now that I can recommend to any basketball junkie: “Can I Keep My Jersey?” by Paul Shirley, who’s a basketball journeyman in the truest sense of the word. He’s a little different from most athletes in that he’s actually bright enough to write his own book…when he wasn’t playing basketball in college, he was earning a degree in mechanical engineering. And his writing style and sense of humour and self-deprecation kind of reminds me of me. You know, if I had writing talent and a life interesting enough to be worth writing about.
And I’m totally with you on #4, #7, and #9.
I’m the same way about phones.
I have night terrors occasionally, but I never have trouble getting back to sleep. I just have trouble waking up while I’m having NIGHT TERRORRRRRRRRRRS!
PS – I’m reading right now!
JUDGE ME!
Hmmm, interesting.
And what do you think of me?
I’m with you on 2 (though I think 2L/day is probably lightweight compared to me) 4,5,7,9.
I already talked to you (on the phone, no less!) about doing the opposite of keeping your secrets but instead embrance a personal form of radical transparency. Be proud and unapologetic of who you are from the start and nobody can ever “catch” you at something you’re secretly ashamed of.
6. My keys reside in my pocket. They never stray from there unless they’re in a lock, and then back in the pocket they go.
7. Oh yes. The constant struggle between trying to clean as far in as you can without touching the ear drum…ouch!
To be fair, you lost your keys the day before your wedding when we had an important spa appointment to keep.
I probably would have gone postal. You didn’t even have a body count (but Husband and I sure moved quickly to put the presents in the car!)
Phonophobia is the painful reaction to sound that migraine headache sufferers often experience. It is literally, from the latin, “fear of sound,” not fear of telephones. It is typically accompanied by photophobia (fear of light), and migraineurs often seek dark, quiet places.