Category: quirks


i think i’m growing as a person…

April 4th, 2011 — 10:27pm

…either that or really lowering my standards.

I just consciously drank two-day-old expired milk because, hey, it still tasted okay. And I didn’t think twice about it. Until now, I guess, when I’m clearly thinking about it again. But that doesn’t count.

This is likely the first time I ever willfully consumed anything past its date stamp. It somehow makes me feel more grown up. Is that weird? Maybe it’s just that I’m noticing that I truly am becoming my mother. ;) (Hey Ma! Love ya!)

3 comments » | for my amusement, junk food, quirks

obsessive proof reading

January 31st, 2011 — 8:00am

After I send an email, regardless of how many times I proof it before hitting send, I always have to go into my sent mail folder and reread the message one last time. I don’t know why, but I can’t help it. I know it’s too late to fix any errors, but I do it anyway. Every time. I think maybe I do this because I figure if my recipient is going to see an error, I want to see it too. Then, at least we BOTH know I’m an idiot.

That’s my running theory anyway.

1 comment » | for my amusement, quirks

perception is such a weird thing

January 24th, 2011 — 10:12pm

Before I had a job, it used to feel like the only thing people ever talked about was their work. I dreaded meeting new people, going to parties, or anything else that would require small talk. I was so mortified at what I perceived was my enormous lack that I couldn’t handle the possibility of having to talk about it.

It’s funny because now that I have a job, I never even think about it. I mean, I guess people still talk about it, but it never feels like the only conversation topic anymore. And honestly, most people don’t really care what it is you do, or whether you get paid for it.

But I REALLY didn’t used to feel that way.

So strange how your insecurities mess with your perception. I wonder if there would have been a way to get over that insecurity without my circumstances changing. I wonder if I could have been comfortable enough with myself and my joblessness that my perception of things then could have been more similar to my perception now.

Also, I think I might define myself too much by my occupation/career goals. How do you not do that?

1 comment » | just wondering, quirks, what's inside

::cough cough::

December 6th, 2010 — 10:55am

I’ve been sick since Thanksgiving. ¬†Actually, I’m pretty sure my whole extended family has been sick since Thanksgiving, unless they were sick right before or during Thanksgiving. It seems we had a white elephant exchange at my parent’s house: bring your favorite microbe to pass around. :)

Despite the stress of having to miss work, juggling school, and sitting around coughing out my insides, it is a little bit nice (am I allowed to say this???) to be forced to sit around at home and do nothing.

I’ve slept. A lot. I’ve read two books and started on a third. And if you knew me & my inability to sit through a whole book, you’d know what a great accomplishment that is.

And perhaps most importantly, Bryant and I (he’s sick too, of course) have completely caught up on all of our TV watching. Nothing left in the Hulu queue except some little random bits. Nothing on our Netflix streaming that’s calling our names too loudly.

So what the heck do we do now? This is a call to arms. Please, help a sister out. What shows should we be watching? Old shows, new shows, lay it on me.

3 comments » | for my amusement, just wondering, quirks

"i'm not making a joke, you know me i take everything so seriously"

November 4th, 2010 — 12:00pm

It’s pretty funny to learn something new about yourself. It happened today. Actually, it wasn’t that I learned something new, but someone finally put words to a part of me that didn’t have a label.

I’m enrolled in a Medical Assisting program, and today a large number of my classmates graduated. I was saying goodbye to a lady who always could make me laugh. Mid hug, I told her something like, “I’m going to miss you, you’re always so funny.” And she said, “You’re funny too, Kelly. You’re funny without even knowing it because you’re so serious.” I laughed and said, “Yeah I probably am too serious.” We finished our goodbyes and away we went.

I keep thinking about what she said, though. It was not something I expected her to say. This classmate with whom I hardly spent any time—and the little time we did spend together was spent joking around—thought I was funny because she thinks I take things seriously. I didn’t realize I had ever acted particularly serious around her, especially not enough for her to find it amusing. And I didn’t realize that it was so easy for other people to notice that about me. Am I really that serious about life?

I was trying to figure out what, in our limited time together, had given her that opinion.

The best answer I can drum up happened last week. Our class was planning on dressing up for Halloween with a “geriatric” theme. She asked if I was going to dress up, and I told her that I wasn’t because it seemed mildly offensive; I didn’t want to feel like I was making fun of the people at my work. (I work at a retirement home.) Maybe this is it? Me being a little overly serious about a very nonsensical topic. The truth is even though I do think it had potential to be a tiny bit offensive, mostly I just don’t care a thing about having school spirit, especially when it means exerting energy to put together a costume for a holiday I don’t even like.

…Oh.

Yeah, I just reread that paragraph.

No matter how I spin it, that sounds like
a person who takes things pretty seriously.

Or I’m just a grump.

(Probably both are true.)

Anyway, I thought about this the whole car ride home (the mark of someone with a serious personality?) and have come to grips with the fact that I probably do come off as serious, even to those who don’t know me well.

There are times when I get silly, times when I’m the farthest thing from serious. But the truth is that even then I always have my critical lens within reach. I think about things a lot. …”Things” meaning everything. And I normally think about these “things” with a serious perspective. I think about society and how people treat each other and what our actions mean below the surface and the origin of our words and our traditions and world religions and conflicting view points and the point of life and yada yada yada. I sometimes have a hard time with small talk, and my preoccupation with these thoughts is probably why. I’d rather sit and talk about heavy things than be entertained with lighthearted topics. Isn’t that kind of messed up? But truthfully, the big, heavy things are what entertain me.

I don’t think it’s a good thing, necessarily. Sometimes I wish I were different. Sometimes I think it’d be easier for everyone around (myself included) if I just didn’t take things so seriously. But, Kermit said it, and I ought to listen: “When green is all there is to be, it could make you wonder why, but why wonder why wonder? I am green and it’ll do fine…”

So I’ll keep to it. I’ll just be here writing long, serious analyses of why people perceive me as serious. And all will be right with the world.

(Title from Indigo Girls’ Galileo.)

1 comment » | quirks, what's inside

gastric block: like mental block but worse

August 20th, 2010 — 11:53am

Mmm, cereal. My go-to breakfast or mid-day snack (or dinner, I won’t lie). Earlier this week, I got home from school, poured myself a giant bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and sat down in front of the TV to relax for a few. As I polished off the last sugar-coated square, I noticed something kind of weird. A tiny dark clump floating in the now sugar-saturated milk. I thought, “It’s probably just a clump of cinnamon or maybe a little broken off chunk of cereal.” But it looked odd enough that I scooped it up into my spoon and went to examine it under better light.

I don’t know if I’m glad or regretful that I did that.

Dead bug. Chilling on my spoon. In a little puddle of milk. It was a creepy, brown, segmented bug with about a million legs packed on to it’s tiny body. Who cares if it was probably only about 1/16 of an inch and you needed a magnifying glass to really see it, it still completely grossed me out. I sat there looking at my bowl of sugary milk, freshly eaten, and I wondered how many of those critters made it down the hatch into my stomach.

Gross. After inspecting the bag and finding a tiny hole in the bottom, I threw it out, sprayed down the shelves in the cupboard, and kind of swore off cereal for a while.

And now I sit here, days later, stomach rumbling, so hungry for breakfast, craving some cereal, but too afraid to try. I wish I could think of it as camping, where you don’t really care if a bug or two joins you for your meal. But that mental game isn’t helping. I just really prefer it if there aren’t any bugs in my cereal. Or at least that I’m unaware of their presence.

PS. Don’t google “bug in cereal” unless you want an adventure. Apparently, my 1/16″ bug is nothing.

4 comments » | for my amusement, if i ruled the world, junk food, quirks

everything sounds better with a southern accent

August 12th, 2010 — 11:17pm

We had some house guests a couple weeks ago who introduced us to Friday Night Lights, and now we can’t stop watching. We burned through the first two seasons in two weeks and started on season three tonight. (So far, season one wins.) My point in telling you all that is this: These past two weeks of total Texas immersion has begun messing with our brains. I swear we’ve both started talking with a Southern drawl. It may be slight, but it’s there, and it’s kinda freaking me out. Guess I’m doing my mama proud.

4 comments » | for my amusement, quirks

seriously paranoid

July 1st, 2010 — 10:11pm

. . .

Bryant and I were stopped at a red light when a car pulled up next to us. The passengers caught my eye. A mother and her son were having a very animated conversation. When my gaze met with theirs, they looked suddenly surprised and erupted into a huge fit of laughter. The son, with arms flailing, very clearly shouted the words “I TOLD YOU!” The mother quickly averted her gaze from mine and, looking down, tried unsuccessfully to hold back her amusement.

. . .

I stood in the aisle of the grocery store debating “to buy, or not to buy” when a couple with their two teenage kids rolled by me and started to laugh. As the mother passed in front of me she said to her husband under her breath, “I guess I was wrong!” It was hard to make out his response through his laughter. It was something like “it’s a girl!” Or maybe “good girl!” I don’t really know. But “girl” definitely was in there.

. . .

Stuff like this happens around me all the time—maybe it does to everyone—but for some reason when it happens to me, my hyperactive paranoia gland kicks into gear. I become convinced that people are laughing because they couldn’t tell if I was a guy or a girl. I become super self-conscious about my short hair.

Then anger pours into me, and I try to make these laughing strangers feel as uncomfortable as possible. I stare them down (in the case of the car at the stop light) or I walk right up to them and try to give them as much eye contact as possible while I peruse items on the shelf where they’re standing (in the case of the grocery store). The laugher always stops and they awkwardly avoid my gaze.

They were probably laughing about something totally unrelated and didn’t even notice me. That is, they didn’t notice me until I became the freak in the grocery store who stares strangers down for no apparent reason. No wonder their laughter stops and they try to avoid my gaze.

It’s ridiculous. It’s disgustingly egocentric of me to think that the whole world is having a laugh at my expense. There are millions of other more plausible reasons they could be laughing. But I have a really hard time controlling my reaction. I become convinced that me and my short hair have just become the butt of their joke. Call me crazy, but I react this way every time. And I have a really hard time recovering from it. The grocery store thing just happened less than an hour ago and I’m only barely emerging from my cloud of embarrassment and anger.

They probably weren’t laughing at me. But maybe they were. Weren’t you ever a teenager hanging out with your friends when someone spots a stranger who seems a bit gender ambiguous? Everyone gets a real kick trying to figure out what “it” is. I’ve been with that group before, I’m sorry to say. More than once. It’s something people find hilariously awkward. It’s possible that I could be on the receiving end of that joke, considering that I’ve been on the giving end of it before.

However, whether I’m the object of their jokes or not isn’t really the issue for me (despite the fact that it does hurt my feelings). This is something that irritated me even when I had hair long enough to ensure that everyone felt confident about my gender. I know that there are times that people laugh at the expense of others, and whether it’s at my expense or not, it infuriates me. What makes me so angry is the sense of superiority the laughers have… their total lack of respect for another human being. They laugh when someone looks different, when someone has a birth defect, when someone has a deformity, when someone’s hair is too short. Really? Is it really that hilarious to discover that people different from you exist in this world? And what I find totally intolerable is the idea that parents would be laughing along with their children. What amazing examples these adults are to their budding bigots.

Wow, the rage. …Talk about a sense of superiority… Sorry, I’ll come down now. But can you see? This is what happens to me. Total anger. Not healthy, especially considering it stems from paranoia. I have got to figure out a way to get over this, especially because I actually like my hair and don’t plan on growing it out any time soon. Why am I so self-conscious of it?

6 comments » | if i ruled the world, quirks, what's inside

feed me

May 31st, 2010 — 9:13pm

One of the nice things about this new apartment is all of the electrical outlets. There’s like one on every wall. Seriously. It’s a huge upgrade from our last apartment, which had about three outlets in the whole place—none of which were grounded.

So I’ve taken this opportunity to get something I’ve never had the luxury of using before: plug-in air fresheners. (Totally classy, I know. What can I say, we’re moving up in the world.)

This month’s flavor?

Vanilla. …Sweet, sugary, delicious vanilla.

And it’s killing me. Every time I walk into the living room, I’m hit with this amazing smell of sugar cookies and frosting. Bryant’s dying too. Every now and then you can hear one of us shout, “I want frosting!” I swear, this air freshener is going to make us each gain 20 pounds. We might have to get rid of it if we don’t get used to the smell soon.

2 comments » | for my amusement, junk food, quirks, we live here now

sharing smells

May 17th, 2010 — 5:17pm

I am tired of smelling the neighbor’s food. Granted, sometimes it smells really delicious, but I’d prefer not to smell anything at all. Ever. Mostly because sometimes it smells really, really, inexplicably awful.

Right now they’re cooking something with a lot of vegetables. There’s definitely some broccoli in there. And probably some beans? It smells very green. Oh, and wait, they just added something else. Teriyaki sauce? Maybe they’re making stir fry. Oops, smells like they just started to burn it. Should’ve taken it off the stove a minute sooner. (I’m not kidding. All this is really happening in real time as I type this post. It would be kind of funny if it weren’t so strong smelling and such a nightly occurrence. I do wish that I knew where it was coming from so I could at least have the satisfaction of confirming my guesses about their menu.)

It’s the strangest thing because we don’t have any shared vents. These apartments don’t have central air or heating. There aren’t any ducts leading from their apartment to ours, that I’m aware of. But the smell wafts into our living room just as if they were cooking in our kitchen.

How do we make it stop??

1 comment » | if i ruled the world, quirks, we live here now

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