- When I say I read trashy romance novels, I mean trashy. Bodice ripping Victorian England, powerful billionaire-unsuspecting intern, etc. I don’t read them often, but I’ll go in a spurt where I’ll read four in a week and then I won’t touch the entire genre for months. I don’t even care if they have a decent plot. The worse and predictable they are, the better.
- I often think about going off of my meds. The only thing that stops me is that I have absolutely no idea what would happen and I know I wouldn’t be in control. But I really hate taking meds. I hate the blood draws, I hate constantly monitoring my mood, I hate it all. As much as I act like it doesn’t bother me, I hate having bipolar and anxiety and all of the other myriad of disorders that I have. So many people say that they wouldn’t give up their disorder because it made them who they are, but damnit I would give it up in a heartbeat. I hate every minute of it.
- As much as I enjoy listening to rap and hard alt rock and things with heavy drums and bass at the gym, I also will rock the hell out to Taylor Swift on the treadmill. I mean full out jam. I’ve got the TS Essentials album in my collection and I’ll just put her on and go. I don’t listen to her outside of the gym, I just can’t get into it. But get me doing some cardio and I’m all about it.
- I really dislike certain things that everyone assumes that I love. Stranger Things being at the top of the list. I can’t tell you how many people assume that I must love that show based on other things that I’m into. Honestly, with that show it’s the kids. I tried watching the first season and I just couldn’t do it. They were irritating as all hell and for me made watching the show unbearable. So yeah, I haven’t seen more than two or three episodes and I don’t plan on watching any more.
- Speaking of kids. Most people assume that I hate kids; I really don’t. I love my friends’ kids, I just can’t tolerate the whiney, annoying, misbehaving, have to be the center of attention at all times kids. The screaming just-because kids. The kids that won’t shut up long enough for you to have a conversation with their parent. When I was younger that behavior was never tolerated – I definitely grew up in a children should be seen and not heard household, and just the sound of kid’s voices makes me cringe. Hell I can’t tolerate loud noises in general, but that
special screech that kids make just drives to the center of my brain like an ice pick.
- I sometimes resent how organized I am. I hate that I have to keep everything so regimented, so written down, so… organized. I’d love for my days to be footloose and fancy free, but if I don’t make my lists and schedules, and whatever else, nothing gets done and I end up frustrated. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve come to enjoy the planning process and all of the cute little accessories, books, and stickers that I have, but I wish I didn’t need to do it, or that I didn’t need them. I wish I could keep all of these things in my head rather than having to write them down. But it’s necessary, sadly. I just can’t keep track of my own life. And I hate admitting that.
- I used to play the violin. I was pretty good, too. When I first started looking at colleges I was planning on going for music. I could have done it, too, and even at a decent school. And then there was the car accident. No more violin after that. I tried for the next year after I was so-called “recovered,” and I just couldn’t do it. It was too painful, too hard. I still have my violin, and every once in awhile I pick it up to see if it would even be possible to pick it back up, and I just can’t. I don’t have the strength in my neck to support it for anything longer than a few minutes. It really sucks, because at the end of the day, I really do kind of miss it.
- At one point in my life I had political aspirations, mainly because I believe that the system is broken and the best way of fixing it was from the inside. I no longer have these aspirations, more than partly because I don’t believe that I have the temperament or patience for it. And like so many others there are things in my past that I wouldn’t want to be brought under public scrutiny. So I work from the side-lines donating to campaigns and letting my representatives know my opinion (I admit – I drunk email senators. I’m surely on a list somewhere).
- For a long time I’ve done things because it was expected of me, rather than things that I really wanted to do, and sometimes that line was so blurred that I’m still not sure which is which. Playing the violin, for example. I started because my grandfather played. I continued because, while I enjoyed it, it was also expected. Same with things like crocheting. I’ve learned to enjoy it, but I started because my aunt kept offering to teach me. I eventually learned to like it, mainly because of the cute things that I could create rather than the process. There are times that I’ve hated the process, but just kept going. I think this is the reason why, especially with crafting stuff, I pick it up and put it down a few different times of the year.
- I am really not a fan of Christmas. I think it stems from a number of things. The first being that I was never allowed to really enjoy the holiday once I became a certain age. My weekends leading up to the holiday were spent baking or decorating rather than doing things that I wanted to do. People in the family would get overly stressed and it would get taken out on me. It was another one of those occasions where I felt like I was told to not be the little freak that I am and instead to make sure that I was on my best behavior. It’s not that I was never on my best behavior, but it was one of those “don’t let the family see how weird you really are” kind of things. Appearances were everything, and my family was, and still is, incredibly conservative.
- I’m not really sure this is really my true personality, or it developed as a rebellion against the “don’t be weird” mantra that my family pushed on me. Now that I’m an adult and I’m out on my own and don’t have to live by that rule, sometimes I think that I’m so different from my family because they wouldn’t let me express myself when I was a kid. So once I was out of the house, I let the freak flag fly. I wonder how my personality would have developed if it had been allowed to take shape naturally, rather than being stuffed into a box and hidden away.
- It’s not that I don’t love my family, it’s just that on the whole, we have nothing in common. There’s very little common ground with my family. They’re by and large good people, but we don’t hold common views, common interests, nothing. These are people that, if we weren’t family, I would probably not talk to past pleasantries, at best. Hell, that’s most of the conversations now. Sometimes that makes me sad, but it’s the product of years of… I don’t want to say abuse or neglect, because it definitely wasn’t that, but let’s say toeing the family line and not being allowed to think for myself. Most teenagers go through a rebellious phase. I went through that starting in my late 20s and continuing to this day. There’s common ground, sure, but at the end of the day it feels like they seem to refuse to get to know the real me.
- On a lighter note, my love of Doctor Who started completely randomly in 2009. I was in college, studying for finals, and needed to put something on TV just for background noise while I worked. Doctor Who came up as a recommendation so I said sure, why not. No studying got done that night, and when Mike got home we started over and then, over the next few months, got caught up to current, watched all of the companion series, and every special we could get our hands on. Here we are 11 years later and I’m painting my office door to look like the TARDIS. I’ve got signs and decals and plaques and everything.
- There’s kind of an odd reason that I’m so much of an animal person, especially as opposed to a people person. When I was growing up, I was an only child. After we moved when I was around 9 there really weren’t any kids to play with in the neighborhood. Sure, I had friends, but from a young age I’ve often felt like people just hung out with me out of pity. Even my so-called best friends. In some ways I couldn’t imagine people liking me enough to be friends with me that wasn’t out of obligation. So-called friends in my 20s exploited this, leaving me with even less trust than I started out with.
But how does this relate to animals? I always felt that, even if they were trapped in the house, if a cat or a dog chose to sit on your lap, or next to you on the couch, it’s because they chose to. In some ways, growing up I felt like the animals in my life were my only friends. My only true friends, at least.
This is something that I still struggle with today. I look at some of my friends and wonder why they hang out with me? Why they seem to like me at all, let alone enough to chose to spend time with. My self-esteem is still incredibly low, but I’m working on it, I swear.
- And last but not least, number 15. I don’t get angry for myself, I get angry for others. For the most part you can do what you want to me, but as soon as you mess with someone I even remotely consider a friend (and in some cases don’t even know), the tiger comes out. I’ve gotten physically in between a friend and her abusive husband, but I let myself take it from someone that I was dating with barely a complaint. I can have a customer scream at me and threaten me until they’re blue in the face, but as soon as someone does it to one of my cashiers – oh hell no. I get angry at injustices in the world, but I let myself suffer through some without a single complaint. I take what life dishes out, but I’m ready to jump at the defense of anyone else.
I guess that’s it. Just a short (not really) list of things that most people don’t know about me.
That’s it for now. Stay safe, friends.