Message From A Random Fortune Cookie:
"How far you go in life is not as important as how you get there."
Some Quirks of Mine:
(because I happen to be a fantasiticallly Quirky individual and everyone else is fantaically obscessed with Facebook quizzes trying to get everyone to care about how interesting they are and learn every little detail they find so interesting. They kind of scare me being too private a person, I did one on who were you in high school and the quiz decided since I was a slacker and a dreamer, I was a stoner. As If !
1. I am a genetic freak, but not where it counts or could possibly be interesting or helpful. Instead of something cool like being double jointed or able to roll my eyes back in my head, I have slightly webbed toes and a freakishly long tongue that can touch my nose.
2. I would love to be one of those cool girls who can comfortably read comics and stroll into shops and know exactely which issues she wants and how much to pay. I wish I was well versed enough to sustain a conversation with Dr. Sheldon Cooper, because that would really creep him out, a sort of pretty girl who knows her graphic novels, but what can I say, but that I am professed nerd bait. I do love comic books, well the ones I've read anyway, which amounts to not many at all just a few Detective Comics (We are after all a DC loyal household) my dad had lying around the house, even a pervesly telling Catwoman which said a lot about my father who puports himself to be the real caped crusader ( also I am the only girl I have ever heard of who read both her Mom's old Vaniety Fairs and her Dad's MADs). I only own Watchmen, The Joker HC and a well-read copy of Mad Love, but I've also read The Killing Joke, Arkham Asylum and some Harley and Ivy (but its not really my thing if you catch my drift)
Can you tell which comic book villain I am obscessed with? Hint: It starts with J and ends with oker. I have a vested interest in acquiring the Gotham City Sirens, From Hell and Ghost World, though so we shall see. Pretty much done with Archie comics by now though. They're much to predictable and even slightly sexist, and thier new art direction is gag worthy!
3. Remember that old saturday morning cartoon Recess about the adventures of a group of fourth graders on the blacktop? Well there was a character called swinger girl who spent her recesses on the swing set, forever trying to reach the allusive goal of swinging over the top and 'Breaking on through to the other side'. Yeah, well that was basically me except I wanted to fly, I wanted to swing to far up into the sky that I would never have to come down. I wanted to know everything, to see everything, I wanted to soar far away from the ruthless kids in my class, (mainly the girls) who bullied me into oblivion and my parents who at the time fought in thier every spare moment. I used to say I was afraid of heights, but that was never really true. I was only afraid of falling, of having to come back down to earth.
4. There really is no denying that I can be a bit of a submissive doormat at times, even often. Something must have gone wrong in my DARE classes, because I just can't say no. Really if someone I love wants me to do something, even if it does not appeal to me at all, I have to do it.
It really is a flaw that I can often get so caught up in pleasing everyone around me that I end up neglecting my own happiness. Why I am so obscessed with other people's lives? Is it because at the end of the day, all I really want to do is help people? Even if my own sister claims I'm hopelessly self centred, she is the spawn of Damian and Rhoda the bad seed after all. On the flip side, listening to people makes me do things I never would have on my own, even if I really, really wanted to. I am at naussum telling people to make me do things, just so I will finally do something instead of lying around and watching Secret Diary Of A Call Girl episodes on my computer.
5. There is no better feeling in my life than when I sit down to fill a wide expanse of blank paper with my own words. Really only (visual) artists and writers can understand how excited a blank paper makes me feel. Its so full of possiblity, and I could put anything on it, I could make beauty, I could make art, all I have to is pick up a pen. I consider myself endlessly lucky for the power I have a fountain of ideas, like voices whispering in my head, demons who won't let me rest until I fill the paper with thought, though sometimes it can be trying when I just want to sleep. But I am lucky that I have the surest cure for bad thoughts and depression, I'm a word bulimic. I purge on paper, kicking the hurt out of my mind and on to the page so it is no longer part of me but my creation.
6. My dreams, both day and night are so vivid that when I wake or am recalled back to my life, I am never sure if what I dreamed really happened, for weeks after I rush around like a headless chicken or Marie Antoinette trying to reconcile with reality. My dreams are so far removed from reality, like fairy tales that this really doesn't seem to make sense at all, but I can't help it, its true. I have friends who dream about school, permission slips, flunking tests and showing up at school buck naked, while my dreams are wild, hallucinations full of dinosaurs, clowns and gypsy caravan rides around the world. They're split into town distinctive camps either good wish fullfillment or fantasies from which I wake sundrenched and rested and bad dreams of terror and blood that I can never remember by morning and wake up with a start tossing, turning and drenched in my own salty tears.
However the good nights are rapidly disappearing. I only ever have good days now.7. I define myself in terms of my birthmarks, my own little spots to proclaim uniqueness. On the back of my right thigh is a tan heart shaped birthmark that I totally look, as hearts are my symbol anyway. I have a small dot by my right eye and another on my right wrist. I even have a starlet dot above my highly cupid's bowed lip, just like Marilyn Monroe.
8. Who by the way, I love. Glamourous, beautiful and heart breaking Marilyn Monroe is the perfect sexed up ingenue, the little girl who became a star to be loved and adored, who justed wanted someone to take care of her for once. Plus we shared the same favourite movie as children, The Wizard Of Oz and both have akward stories of growing up and feeling ugly when we developed more than the girls in our classes. I just hope my own story doesn't end so tragically.
9. My first kiss was at age six when I was trying to put on my own productions of Shakespeare plays in my backyard playground with the neighbourhood kids. Naturally I was always the star.
We were doing my favourite, Romeo and Juilet, and my best friend, the boy next door (well really a few houses down) was my Romeo. We tried to be serious actors but we just couldn't understand what love was and what made it so powerful, so after 'rehersal' , alone in the sandbox, we tried kissing for ourselves. I haven't seen him in years
10. I would love to have motorcycle, a big red and chrome old fashioned harley, that I could ride and feel free as the windrushed by my face. I would totally ensconce myself in a tight leather catsuit, oh so naked under leather and drive really fast with my arms out stretched and my eyes clasped shut in euthphoria (but of course, I'm too afraid of ending up like Rebecca, plowed to death by a passing truck. I also dream of thin hot pink streaks in my hair, but would they clash with my carefully planned ensembles?
11. My mother screwed me up in many, many ways, most of them actually more my falut, but the biggest was her lessons on vaniety. She always taught me that if you think you are pretty or smart or talented, then something will happen that will take it all away. Its gotten so that to this day, I am unable to have high self esteem or think well of myself, because I am terribly afraid of being being punished.
12. My psychology class has enstilled me with the weirdest case of hypochodria. Whereas once I tried to explain away only my physical problems, or any ache and pain as anemia, cancer or lupus (but its never lupus), I now fear I suffer from whatever disorder we study, dissociative identity disorder, antisocial personality disorder, manic depression, etc. although I am pretty sure on the last one... more updates later
13. One thing I have suffered from is an eating disorder, what I like to call borderline Anorexia Nervosa, wherein I displayed all the symptoms and behaviours, but somehow was caught and induced to gain weight before I got scary skinny, but at my lowest point I was less than ninety pounds, fainting and shuting down, so maybe my perspective is off. The weird thing about an eating disorder is that even when you consider yourself healthy you are never really recovered. something inside me chastizes me for gaining even the slightest amount of weight or is disguisted when I even so much as eat lunch instead of starving. Sometimes I still look at myself in the mirror and want to die.
14. I might possibly be some kind of psychic. Weird coincidences always happen to me, like when me and my best friend who I will refer to as Lashes watched Urban Legend, chatting about the prophetic song at its opening and then went a sushi resturant where the same song, which is an old song not even often on radio was playing (kinda like Anthony Rapp and Losing My Religion in his book Without You: love, loss and the musical RENT), or when in grade ten after learning at the assassination of Franz Ferdinand (the archduke not the awesome band), the talked about both on Gilmore Girls that night.
Usually I know whose calling or what we will study each day. Sometimes I even get an eerie sense of what a place or person will be like before I have any idea.
One time, pretending to be retirees, Lashes and I crashed bingo night. Looking at the card that explained the different combinations and games that would be played, I noticed one called Love Letter, it sounded so nice that I decided that if I won a game it would be that one. And Low an behold I won Eighteen dollars.
I just hope I'm not going to have one of those Final Destination visions and have to bury the surviours.
15. I am the messiest person that has ever walked in hot pink Forever 21 corkboard sandals, I hoard things like I'm afraid to lose them even if they don't fit or I don't care about them. As a result my room is a pig sty or as my dad affectionatedly refers to it, a crack den, but I just can't keep it clean. I can't! I pile thing or put the in boxes or the back of the closet, but by that afternoon I have to dig through them in a frenzy to find something and never have the time or energy to put it all together again, even if I had all the king's horses and all the king's men. Neither do I see the point of making my bed, it just gets messy again that night, so why bother?
Sometimes I work better in my chaos though. Even though I never know where anything is and am constantly losing forms or putting things in a safe place and then forgetting where that is, I know things better than I would if I was neat. At best it can be (slightly) organized chaos.
16. I am a firm believer in the art of dancing like no one's watching, but the catch is that I only dance when no one's watching. Actually I love it, when no ones' around I dim the lights and pretend I'm a stripper, even pretending to vamp, flirt and toy with imaginary men. It's a good workout actually, and I'm getting pretty good, plus I can finally understand how strippers stay so thin. My favourite dancing songs are the Theme from Grindhouse: Planet Terror and lots of Britney Spears. I just wish my underwear was more exciting.
17. I find it extremely strange that it seems that the only people who are comfortable singing in public are those who are atrocious at it yet those with talent never can. Singing along with writing and travelling is one of my great loves, and I as many have attested am possesed of a pretty good voice. However, I can never do it in public. Nothing shuts me up faster than someone telling me to sing something at a resturant or on a street corner when I first tell them I sing. Its strange that when being a closet writer and singer, whenever anyone needs to talk you or compliment you they go on about how good a singer or writter you are, even when they've never read or heard you. When I'm home, the entire house vibrates with sound, of me sininging musicals, opera, indies, top 40, or classics in my versiatile soprano, but as soon as I get out the door the song stops. Once I treated Lashes to a performace of Popular from Wicked in a near perfect impression of Kristen Chenoweth's Glinda voice (that's another thing, I'm also a great vocal mimic) and since then she kepts at me to sing more for her and sings Popular whenever she straightens my hair for me ( I can never reach the back), as if I'm the Elphaba she's making over (though Elphie and I do have a lot in common). The few times I've performed for an audience, I've been met with acclaim, actually shocking people who suddenly decided I was a superstar, (yet without confidence or stage presence) , even my own parents looked at me diferently. But I don't know...I'm terrified of wasting my singing. I'm happier when I'm singing than anything else (except writing) since I was born!
18. In my mind, my life is a movie and I like Blair Waldorf , am the ingenue star with the old Hollywood looks. Soundtracking my movie has become a fasinating topic of great importance, suddenly my ipod is glued to my head and I get excited to walk downstairs to get a glass of water because I have the perfect song for it. I have playlists for even the simplest actions, imagining someone is watching me and loving the backing or montages. I am forever searching for the perfect song.
19. I am the owner of over 300 purses, nearly enough for every day of the year. They resides in their own cupboard along with my collection of at leat 80 pairs of shoes and barely ever get any use becuase they are so piled up over one another that pulling one out unleashes a veritable avalanche of leather, plastic and cotton. On the bright side, though it can be like shopping in my own closet, finding purses I don't remember ever seeing before. To be fair though, the most I've spent on a purse is the forty on my velvet 60's style Roxy bag, the majority are gathered cheaply from vintage stores, including a 3 dollar Coach, 2 dollar Louis Vuitton, and 10 dollar Dior. People have no idea how much things are worth. At work I'm purse girl at school I liven up my uniform with a new bag each day, but if Freud is right and purses are phallic symbols, then what am I? I think I like purses because if you gain weight, if you get ugly or fall apart, they never reject you. They are the only truly one size fits all.
20. I hate my stupid Lasenza bras. They don't fit and I constantly fall out or feel like either a matronly fat cow or some B-movie go-go girl with her chest exploding out at the sides, that Russ Meyers would love. Some days I like having a larger chest, somedays I feel fat, because after all that is what boobs are, isn't it?
But at the end of the day, everything that makes me quirky also makes me.
