Sunday, August 01, 2004

about a girl

My favorite Calvin and Hobbes quotations

*I stopped updating it because it was getting too long, and you don't need to know this much about me.*

This is like the "100 Things About Me" or the "101 Things About Me," or come up with another number and replace it with the old one, except without numbers. An unordered list, if you will. But I hate the term "list," so it is what it is...

I like dysfunction on my own terms.

I'm painfully shy. A social reject. Socially inept. Trying (unsuccessfully) to be assertive in a world that demands it.

In my alternate life, I want to be over educated and unemployable, live in a trailer park, work in retail, and have a bartender as a crush. (Wonderfalls). Life would be so grand.

I'm a perpetually dreamer. I move from one grand dream to the next without seeing any of them through.

I hate LOL. In my naive Internet days, I thought it was a sexual advance from some perv. (I had no idea what it might translate to, but the whole "cyber sex" revolution happening in chat rooms scared me silly.)

I got the giggles from one of my friends who would have tears in her eyes every time she laughed so hard.

Plankton from SpongeBob SquarePants. No cartoon character made me laugh more than him when he first appeared on screen. I thought he was an alien under the sea.

I'm a delight when I'm pretending to be someone else and not being myself.

I hate answering the phone when I know my friends are calling because I can't be the first person to hang up.

I'm a push over.

I'm a planner. Compulsive planner...maybe. But like the dreamer in me, I usually don't get to cross something off my list often. Good intentions, bad follow through.

I religiously read John Wertheim's Tennis Mailbag at SI.com and Matt Roush's Ask Matt at tvguide.com on Mondays. I'm forever thankful to Matt's column because that is how I discovered the sublime Farscape.

One of the best inventions ever: the snooze button. But I still need two alarm clocks to get me up in the morning.

I have an unhealthy, almost pathological attraction to Potterybarn; Post-It notes (or any type of stationery); IKEA; new, unread books; magainzes, especially one with awesome photos and design, to name a few. It just makes me THAT giddy.

I’m making a concerted effort to use CAP LOCKS more often, especially in lieu of bolding everything. Just want to spice things up a tad bit. I'm not a big fan of italics; it strains my eyes.

I'm no queen of teenage angst although I'm technically several years past being a teenager. I have never been that way. It's more like, I'm living a life of quiet desperation. And some, if not most, is of my own doing.

Two things I think would serve me well in life: being a meticulous note-taker and having an accurate memory.

I'm a follower, not a leader.

I'm an idealist. I've always maintained that, but the (emerging) cynic in me is telling me that I'm turning into a disappointed idealist. "Cynics are made, not born." -- K. Marx (1818 - 1883).

Some of my life long dreams: to live and work and spend my life in the place that I was born; travel & work as a National Geographic photographer; be a travel writer; an archaeologist; environmentalist & humanitarian who traverses the continents doing wonders for our world; an artist; a librarian...

I HATE adware and spyware and viruses and trojans and such and such and so on.

I'm unabashingly shameless and unapologetic about being totally uncool, unhip, unwhatever. (But, deep down, I secretly wish I was a super cool girl. I don't want to end up being a wallflower all of my life.)

If I get my own pet anytime in the future, I'm going to name he/she/it Betty Boop. I JUST love the name. Wait. Now that I think about it, Betty Boop is a girl name, so hopefully, my pet is a girl to begin with.

I bet someone always will cheer for "the mullet." I'll go as far as to say that it is A FACT that "the mullet" will always get a cheer from an audience.

I love trailer/previews before movies. The 2nd best reason to go see a movie in the theater in my book.

I believe that a wise man once said, "You can either be(come) someone's bitch or kick someone's ass." I prefer that people choose the latter instead of the former. ASS KICKING rocks. [note: That's all I remember of Rob Newhouse's statement in Office Space, so I've adapted it. Thanks Rob Newhouse! I found his original quotation here.]

I'm a frantic worrier. This is what stops me dead in the tracks. Stops me from moving forward. Stops me from getting things done.

I am capable of so much hate...

...And in return, so much self hatred.

Texas rain confuses me. Those of you who have lived through one will know what I'm talking about. Everyone must experience the wonder that is Texas rainstorms.

I like reading magazines from back to front.

My randomness makes sense.

I believe forgiveness is overrated and "I'm sorry" is overused. I believe in SELECTIVE redemption. I believe it'll still hurt in the end.

I'm a contradiction.

Boys. Their motives can be so transparent.

I'm not good at great comebacks. I struggle to find words that bite, wound, sting.

"Life unimagined is life unlived." [--me]

"Hater-rade" and "muff your head" or just "muff" are two words I learned in Art. High school art class was so much FUN. I miss it terribly.

Childhood snacks: tang, oreos, nerds, twinkies etc... Most of which I still enjoy in adulthood.

I'm a drug store shopper.

My choice for President: OPRAH.

I could star in my own soap opera: "Like nails on a chalkboard, so are the days of my life."

My favorite words: thing, whimiscal, oogie, swell...

I'm the kind of person that will go to a fancy steak house and order a grilled chicken sandwich. At least the chicken is grilled. Mmm...chicken.

I believe in the arts. I value the arts. I support the arts.

I'm fragile -- in mind, not body. In both, actually.

Invest in toe socks.

I have spent my lifetime denying and repressing things. How is my self-esteem you ask? FANTASTIC.

I just need to "get my words out." (Wonderfalls)

Nothing has taught me more about rejection and self-pity and loathing than 20 years of being me. So go ahead, and say whatever you want. It's not that I won't be hurt by it; it's just that nothing surprises me anymore.

I'm itching to be a nomad.

Life's answers will come from wisdom gained through suffering.

Drown your sorrows in tang or coolaid, or snapple, or capris sun. Whatever rocks your boat.

Betty Boop
is my boo.

I love Conan O'Brien. I love him. Like LUVVVVV him. Love him. Love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love him. And, oh, I like NERDS too.

If you are clever and witty, then I HATE you.

Bitterness lingers. You can't get rid of something like that.

Silence is menacing.

The American Tradition: We mock, and then we mourn. It's our right.

I don't speak in class. I just don't. Why encourage the teachers and professors.

I miss High School. No, I wasn't popular, it wasn't my glory days, and I don't want to relive it. I just MISS IT -- the people, the H.S. experience, the thing it's meant to symbolize.

I have many faults. None that I'd like to admit to and none that I'm strong enough to deal with.

I have an ongoing identity crisis. I am trying to be more of an individual rather than follow the collective. I'm trying to create my own path. Trying to break free from the BORG, if you will.

I can't do arithmetic in my head.

I can't whistle, but I'd like to. I can't skate (roller and ice), but I'd like to too.

In life people make on big choice and several smaller ones to help sustain the big choice.

You can love two people at once, but you'll only really want to be with one of them.

Just don't make me hate you.

I'm learning that my talents may not necessarily be my passions in life.

I embarrass myself all the time. I am too self-conscious.

There are no guarantees that the choices you make and the people you meet won't totally ruin your life.

I have never been more unsure of myself.

Never take a step backward out of fear.

Be unapologetic about who you are and what you believe in as long as you know the meaning of compassion, giving and receiving, and home. Stop short of arrogance.

I never follow my own advice.

Believe in something. People might just believe in you in return.

I like listening to soft rock. Yes, SOFT ROCK. Anything else hurts my ears.

I have realized that I enjoy writing this ABOUT A GIRL more than my main blog.

I think too much. I worry too much. I don't take enough chances.

I LOVE to SWING. But motion sickness prevents me from doing it for very long.

Water is the best alcohol.

I have wanted to paint my room and redecorate for 4 years. Now I'm ready to move out.

If you live in NYC, can your blog legitimately describe your tragic life there? Buddy, you’re one step ahead of the rest of us.

As it applies to my blog: this isn't a democracy; it's a blogocracy, and I'm the blogtator. (inspired by Bring It On).

I'm intensely loyal. To a fault. Until it's too late.

I am passive-aggressive, but I rarely show it because I regret being one.

I love my hair. I think it's the best part of me.

"I choose a life without you" is such a powerful, declarative statement.

I have great fear of the wide, wide world.

I vacillate between clear, dawning comprehension and absolute fear. I vacillate between loving my life and hating myself.

I keep waiting for that "moment of dawning comprehension" everyone lives for. So far, zitch. Nada.

My life consists of my bedroom and...

I am many people. But there are no definite, defined characters for each.

Why can't I just "Let it Be?"

I am a reluctant pessimist.

I am stubborn. (Note: Please don't ever become a stubborn person. I have done things I am not proud of -- things that didn't need to be done but was done out of pride.)

I am sensitive. I cry easily. I get intimated easily. I give up too often.

I know I am capable of so much more, but I always settle for so much less.

I'm giddy (21 March 05).

Three words that will change your life: Nobody likes Pathetic. (7-5-05).

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MY WISH LIST:
9-1-04: Someone teach me how to play poker, the Texas Hold'em kind, so I can go kick Ben Affleck's ass. Thanks.

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