A friend suggested I complete the “101 Things About Me” exercise which is some sort of initiation rite done by new bloggers. Uh-uh. Not gonna do it. I would risk boring people to tears. As for boring myself – that’s a given. I live with “me” every day. That’s enough. I don’t really want to engage myself in a lengthy dialogue.
“Beth?”
“Yes?”
“What’s the worst experience you ever had?”
“Ah, hell, Beth. Do we have to go into all that again?”
“Yes, we do. For our new blog.”
“Screw the blog.”
So, I’m going to compromise and do “Only Ten Things About Me.” Will these “things” reveal my essence? Who knows? I’m not even sure what my essence is.
Here goes…
1. I absolutely detest intolerance of any kind — racial, religious, sexual — you name it. I either get furious, sad or extremely, deathly silent when I see or hear it.
2. I carry loose change in my pockets for the homeless — those who beg on the streets. I don’t care if they buy booze and cigarettes with this money.
3. I hate clothes shopping. I may be missing a particular female chromosome.
4. I’ve lived with back pain since approximately 19 years of age.
5. Re: # 4. This has enabled me to appreciate “normal” days — where walking, sitting and standing do not hurt. I consider this a blessing. A wacky kind of blessing, but nonetheless, a blessing.
6. I come from a family of four children. Our father died when we were young. That was definitely a life-altering event. You never really get over such a tragedy but you do adapt. You have no choice.
7. I sincerely believe I am capable of murder if it came to protecting/saving my children.
8. I’ve stolen two things in my life. In Grade Two I stole a (coveted) bracelet from the class Lost and Found Box. When I was nine, I stole candy from a store. In neither case did I enjoy the “fruits of my (sinful) labour.”
9. I worry — a lot. I anticipate and try to prevent disasters (no matter how ridiculous my attempts might be). My husband does not worry. I tell him that I have taken on his share of the worrying for all these years and that’s why our kids have turned out well. I actually believe this. Sort of.
10. I have been referred to as “nice” and “sweet” my entire life. I AM NOT. This has created a split personality disorder. One day I’ll crack under the pressure of maintaining the façade. The “bad” Beth (a.k.a. the bitch) will prevail and you’ll all be running scared…
There. Finished. Perhaps you know me a little better now. Perhaps you would have preferred not knowing me any better — would have been content with just an occasional glance at the mysterious visage beneath the straw hat. (Hey, like in Curious George — The Man In The Yellow Hat.) I am so well read…
“Beth?”
“Yes?”
“What’s the worst experience you ever had?”
“Ah, hell, Beth. Do we have to go into all that again?”
“Yes, we do. For our new blog.”
“Screw the blog.”
So, I’m going to compromise and do “Only Ten Things About Me.” Will these “things” reveal my essence? Who knows? I’m not even sure what my essence is.
Here goes…
1. I absolutely detest intolerance of any kind — racial, religious, sexual — you name it. I either get furious, sad or extremely, deathly silent when I see or hear it.
2. I carry loose change in my pockets for the homeless — those who beg on the streets. I don’t care if they buy booze and cigarettes with this money.
3. I hate clothes shopping. I may be missing a particular female chromosome.
4. I’ve lived with back pain since approximately 19 years of age.
5. Re: # 4. This has enabled me to appreciate “normal” days — where walking, sitting and standing do not hurt. I consider this a blessing. A wacky kind of blessing, but nonetheless, a blessing.
6. I come from a family of four children. Our father died when we were young. That was definitely a life-altering event. You never really get over such a tragedy but you do adapt. You have no choice.
7. I sincerely believe I am capable of murder if it came to protecting/saving my children.
8. I’ve stolen two things in my life. In Grade Two I stole a (coveted) bracelet from the class Lost and Found Box. When I was nine, I stole candy from a store. In neither case did I enjoy the “fruits of my (sinful) labour.”
9. I worry — a lot. I anticipate and try to prevent disasters (no matter how ridiculous my attempts might be). My husband does not worry. I tell him that I have taken on his share of the worrying for all these years and that’s why our kids have turned out well. I actually believe this. Sort of.
10. I have been referred to as “nice” and “sweet” my entire life. I AM NOT. This has created a split personality disorder. One day I’ll crack under the pressure of maintaining the façade. The “bad” Beth (a.k.a. the bitch) will prevail and you’ll all be running scared…
There. Finished. Perhaps you know me a little better now. Perhaps you would have preferred not knowing me any better — would have been content with just an occasional glance at the mysterious visage beneath the straw hat. (Hey, like in Curious George — The Man In The Yellow Hat.) I am so well read…
3 comments:
Trish -
Kindred souls - "except for the shopping part."
You forgot that you have always been referred to as 'DEAR, sweet Beth' - as your younger sister (and far less 'dear') I'm as sick of it as you are.........
Megan - You're actually the "dear" one. (Wasn't that a "sweet" thing for me to say?)
Never mind all that BS - we have a date in Hell, remember?
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