Lyvvie's meme
another meme and it's another list. They're good things, lists, and memes keep me from having to think about what to write.
This one is tough: Six Weird Things about Me is hard because I know I'm utterly normal. Does that count as number one? But I am, dammit.
1. I'm the absolute most normal person on this planet. On a scale of 1-10, I'm 5. On "yes, maybe, no," I'm maybe. On "strongly approve, somewhat approve, no opinion, somewhat disapprove, strongly disapprove" I'm somewhat approve to somewhat disapprove on bad days. On the color wheel, I'm between cerulean blue and cobalt, sky blue but not at sunset or sunrise and not on a cloudless day. Not a blue that anyone would remark upon unless there've been days of rain. The kind of sky that takes up a lot of space. (I still need to lose weight)
2. I used to have rituals that made no sense. I'd walk around a particular building twice before going in, and if the door I used was locked, I'd have a moment of utter fear...but then I'd use another door, because I wasn't that far gone, yet.
I don't do that any more. I wasn't going crazy, I had panic disorder. Some people might argue that's the same thing as crazy. (I won't argue back.)
3. I lied like a rug when I was much younger. No one at school liked me much right through Jr. High and a lot of High school and I decided it was because I lied so much. So I stopped lying. That didn't work, so I went back to lying, plus I started complimenting people--sometimes both at the same time..
That worked a treat. People like being told nice things about themselves and tend to be pleasant to the person saying them. And in fact, I grew addicted to complimenting people. I'd even say nice things to strangers and I meant it, too. It's like smiling. After a while, you start to believe you really are happy. With my system, after a while, you begin to believe the world is full of glorious humans.
Of course one person saying what the fuck are you talking about, you creepazoid can rain on that parade and you wonder what exactly the fuck you are talking about. But it's a long time habit. The lying only crops up now and then. I can usually keep it in check by writing fiction.
4. I don't believe in a personal God. God knows I want to, I've tried, but it isn't going to happen. The one time I almost got it was when I read Franny and Zoe in high school and a book about buddhism that wasn't by Herman Hesse (I'm absolutely normal but I'm not a complete stereotype, okay?).
And, listen, so what Douglas Adams thought of agnostics as cringing nincompoops? I'm perfectly willing to believe in some huge Higher Power[s]blahblahblah that has a huge influence over a bunch of existence. I'm even willing to buy the idea that it/they might have a form of consciousness, etc.
I just don't think the incomprehendable HP, if there is any, believes in me.
5. I didn't like Plath's Bell Jar and I agree with my kid who said, Catcher in the Rye isn't all it's cracked up to be. But I did own that tan Joni Mitchell album., and I could sing along with most of those songs. I think those sets of facts cancel each other out on the weird scale. Tough, I'm not coming up with something else.
6. I often write short cranky letters ("To Whom It May Concern: What makes you think waxy tasteless chocolate should be labeled gourmet and overpriced?") and rarely mail them, even though I do like the Lazlo Toth letters.
Oh, I did email one about a school bus driver the other day and got a response! Someone in the school system wrote back!** A principal! Of course lately our local school system is all in a tizzy about the buses. They've discovered a few ex-cons are driving the buses! Hideous! I say as long as they aren't crimes about kids or driving, who cares? But that wasn't the gist of my letter. . .I've decided to spare you that.
_______
**No, really I am not a crank. In the twelve years we've been dealing with public schools, I've only written four [read: kvetching] unsolicited letters. Two were in the past month.
This one is tough: Six Weird Things about Me is hard because I know I'm utterly normal. Does that count as number one? But I am, dammit.
1. I'm the absolute most normal person on this planet. On a scale of 1-10, I'm 5. On "yes, maybe, no," I'm maybe. On "strongly approve, somewhat approve, no opinion, somewhat disapprove, strongly disapprove" I'm somewhat approve to somewhat disapprove on bad days. On the color wheel, I'm between cerulean blue and cobalt, sky blue but not at sunset or sunrise and not on a cloudless day. Not a blue that anyone would remark upon unless there've been days of rain. The kind of sky that takes up a lot of space. (I still need to lose weight)
2. I used to have rituals that made no sense. I'd walk around a particular building twice before going in, and if the door I used was locked, I'd have a moment of utter fear...but then I'd use another door, because I wasn't that far gone, yet.
I don't do that any more. I wasn't going crazy, I had panic disorder. Some people might argue that's the same thing as crazy. (I won't argue back.)
3. I lied like a rug when I was much younger. No one at school liked me much right through Jr. High and a lot of High school and I decided it was because I lied so much. So I stopped lying. That didn't work, so I went back to lying, plus I started complimenting people--sometimes both at the same time..
That worked a treat. People like being told nice things about themselves and tend to be pleasant to the person saying them. And in fact, I grew addicted to complimenting people. I'd even say nice things to strangers and I meant it, too. It's like smiling. After a while, you start to believe you really are happy. With my system, after a while, you begin to believe the world is full of glorious humans.
Of course one person saying what the fuck are you talking about, you creepazoid can rain on that parade and you wonder what exactly the fuck you are talking about. But it's a long time habit. The lying only crops up now and then. I can usually keep it in check by writing fiction.
4. I don't believe in a personal God. God knows I want to, I've tried, but it isn't going to happen. The one time I almost got it was when I read Franny and Zoe in high school and a book about buddhism that wasn't by Herman Hesse (I'm absolutely normal but I'm not a complete stereotype, okay?).
And, listen, so what Douglas Adams thought of agnostics as cringing nincompoops? I'm perfectly willing to believe in some huge Higher Power[s]blahblahblah that has a huge influence over a bunch of existence. I'm even willing to buy the idea that it/they might have a form of consciousness, etc.
I just don't think the incomprehendable HP, if there is any, believes in me.
5. I didn't like Plath's Bell Jar and I agree with my kid who said, Catcher in the Rye isn't all it's cracked up to be. But I did own that tan Joni Mitchell album., and I could sing along with most of those songs. I think those sets of facts cancel each other out on the weird scale. Tough, I'm not coming up with something else.
6. I often write short cranky letters ("To Whom It May Concern: What makes you think waxy tasteless chocolate should be labeled gourmet and overpriced?") and rarely mail them, even though I do like the Lazlo Toth letters.
Oh, I did email one about a school bus driver the other day and got a response! Someone in the school system wrote back!** A principal! Of course lately our local school system is all in a tizzy about the buses. They've discovered a few ex-cons are driving the buses! Hideous! I say as long as they aren't crimes about kids or driving, who cares? But that wasn't the gist of my letter. . .I've decided to spare you that.
_______
**No, really I am not a crank. In the twelve years we've been dealing with public schools, I've only written four [read: kvetching] unsolicited letters. Two were in the past month.
Number 2 begins to worry me. It's only been 18 months since I had a round of panic attacks that put me out of school for the rest of the year. I never ever want to go through that again.
ReplyDeletemay, you do all the cognitive stuff? tackling head on whatever it is that triggers you--with help? That worked for me for years and years.
ReplyDeleteI ended up on medication because when the symptoms popped up again, I couldn't take the time to deal with them. I needed a quick fix. (And those quick fixes are so wonderful when they work...mmmeffexxxooorrrrr. OOps, addictiveffexorrr)
Not liking Catcher in the Rye: that just shows you have good taste, and that you're not one of the sheep.
ReplyDeleteWhere do the effing ducks go in the winter, REALLY.
Kate those were great! I'm going to buy the Lazlo Toth book for a friend of mine who is a stand-up comic/writer because it's right up his alley. Thanks for that.
ReplyDeleteI liked Catcher in the Rye, but I didn't see what all the huff was about. *shrug* it certainly didn't offend or bore me.
I took that wicked AD drug and it was awful. Made me yawn all the time and that's not good when you work on phones in an open plan, public facing desk-space. It's not even prescribed here any more because of the increased risk of heart damage. I didn't even need an AD at the time (had a hard time coping with Dad's death. Effexor is not for grief.) but I'm on anti-anxiety meds that are really helping, because I'm an adrenaline junkie.Woohoo!
Er, Lyvvie? Is effexor what's been banned?
ReplyDeleteThe night my father died I sat in the room with the body alone way too long and later had the grandaddy of panic attacks. Stayed up two days straight.
Some people cry and rend their garments. I vibrated and was sick. A lot. Ah, well, mourning takes all forms but that was particularly undignified. I'll never get a job as a professional mourner.
I love #3, Kate. This bat was laughing her proverbial ass off.
ReplyDeleteAlso relate to I may believe in God, but does he believe in me?