Posted by: turtlebella | 3 May 2006

An ‘I’ meme

Seen at lots of places…check my blogroll, several of them have done it! This meme kind of reminds me of when I went to family week when Bear was in rehab. We had to start all our sentences with 'I' – 'I feel… I think…' etc.

I am really sick of driving. Just drove from Portugal to Paris. Enough already!

I want to get home. I’ve been gone longer than I wanted or planned to be. Makes me cranky.

I wish I was not allergic to cats. I was hanging out with the cat and dog that belong to my Portuguese family. And got all eye-itchy after petting the cat, Nala. But I really love cats and want us to get one. Allergy meds, here I come!

I hate the idea that we have to elect Democrats – any Democrats – to Congress and then worry about the fact that they are all Republican lite afte they get there. This is just a bad, stupid strategy. I hate Democrat Party appartachiks who think this is a good idea. Poopheads.

I love a lot of people and things. I mean, hello? There’s all kinds of love. Would be better if this was more qualified. I love the sqvirrel to death. I love Mami Deer even though she drives me crazy sometimes. I love our dogs with unqualified abandon, even when they are very naughty. I love good beer, cabernet sauvignon and yummy food, including but not limited to pankcakes, sushi, Indian food, Ethiopian food, pomme frites…

I miss the sqvirrel, the Little Soft-Head, Bartleby, and the Big White. Did I mention I’ve been gone for three weeks? Feels like forever. Don’t know how I will do two months this summer.

I hear things, sometimes, that have not been said. I’m not trying to say that I hear voices. It’s just that someone will say something and I will hear something else, sometimes it’s something that rhymes with what they have said, sometimes I just make something up entirely. I always pass hearing tests so I don’t know what this is about. But my dad was deaf and so my brother and I grew up speaking quite loudly. Which neither of us knew until we were grown-ups and people clued us in and asked us to be a bit quieter! This apparently becomes more pronounced when we talk to each other or our mom. The sqvirrel can always tell if I’m on the phone with my mom Mami Deer as I practically yell. Recently Mami Deer told me that she always holds the phone away from her ear when she talks to me.

I wonder about the concept of eternity. It used to make my stomach get all knotted up and lead to insomnia and anxiety. Since deciding that god doesn’t exist and there is no life after death, I no longer worry quite so much about eternity. But I do still wonder about it. I just cannot quite grasp endless-ness.

I regret being a pain in the butt adolescent just before my dad died. I try to remind myself that he knew it was just the hormones and whatever it makes teenagers act like hideous monsters from hell. But it’s hard. I wish I could have just been nicer in the last few months of his life.

I am not doing this one. I am not too many things to narrow it down to a bloggable thing.

I dance with great abandon. Especially in NIA (dance / movement / martial arts thingy) class. It’s quite heaven to do this.

I sing really badly. I’m tone deaf. Or have no pitch. Or something. It’s genetic- neither of my parents can (could in the case of my Dad) hold a tune. One year some of my cousins were around for my birthday and the *noise* that occurred when they sang me “Las Mañanitas” (traditional Mexican birthday song) was really quite awful. I had warned the sqvirrel (who has a very nice voice and whose mother is a choir director, for god’s sake) but still, he almost ran away in horror. I really wish I could sing. Just a little bit. Enough so that I could sing in the shower or along with the radio in the car. I actually do both, but not if anyone is present who can actually hear me.

I cry a lot. I always have. It’s very easy to bring me to tears. The slightest disappointment or creulty to dogs will set me off. Not to mention if I hurt myself or something bad happens to someone I love. I cry at sentimental TV commercials. Sad movies are really tough for me. Terms of Endearment left me sobbing hysterically. As did, oddly, West Side Story.

I am not always happy to wake up early to feed my dogs. Bartleby and the Little Soft Head are very interested in being fed as early as possible. I am interested in sleeping as long as possible. This leads to me being grumpy with them.

I make with my hands a few knitted items here and there, as long as I can do it without having to purl, which I have never learned. I also make really awesome brownies. My hands are involved in that they stir the batter and put them in the oven.

I write long sentences with lots of asides, which are usually in parentheses. It’s very like how I talk, I think. But funnier.

I confuse people by claiming that I am shy. But I am! Or maybe it’s that fundamentally that I am an introvert and dislike being put in situations where I need to be extroverted. Much rather stay home with a book!

I need to figure out where I would like to live for the next part of my life. Actually, this one is not really an “I” – the sqvirrel and I both need to figure this out.

I should probably not eat as many sweets, candy, and dessert as I do. But I have a massive sweet tooth. Again, blaming genetics as my dad was also a famous sweet tooth. And I have no will-power so this “should” will probably never turn into “I do…”

I start stories that I’ve forgotten the point of.

I finish other people’s thoughts and sentences for them. It’s a really annoying and rude habit and I am trying to stop.

I'm not tagging anyone since I’m like the last blogger to do this.

 


Responses

  1. Wow! Portugal to Paris is a long way!

    I understand your regret, but am sure your Dad knew you were just being teenagerish. I remember (a week or so before he died) my Dad telling me that he was so sorry he wouldn’t be around to see me grow up, and I just said ‘oh, that’s okay’. Of course, I was young, scared, didn’t know what to say and was worried that he was feeling guilty for being sick, but I totally regret saying something which now feels as though I was telling my Dad it didn’t matter he wasn’t going to be around anymore. But I’m certain he didn’t take it that way, he knew me and how much I adored him, and I’m sure your Dad did too.

  2. I sobbed hysterically at Terms of Endearment, too. Also West Side Story.

    I’ll teach you to purl over a beer at the Lompoc someday. It’s easy.

  3. i can teach you to purl in chicago next weekend. but you’ll have to teach me to cast off. yes, i, in fact, have a 20-foot scarf-in-progress because of this oversight in my knitting repertoire.

  4. Thanks, Pink Cupcake. Always good to hear from some one else that my Dad probably didn’t take any of my moodiness personally! And you are right, he did know that I adored him.

    this is good that both Phantom and gigglygirl have offered to teach me how to purl! That way I can learn once, forget, and be taught again. It always goes that way, with the knitting and me.

    gigglygirl, I am dying with laughter about the 20-foot long scarf! Are you sure there’s not a cat in there somewhere? I have visions of us as little old ladies with arthritic cats and long scarves entirely made of knit stitches…

  5. Hi.. came here after reading your comments at Is there no sin in it ? I just love the way your blog is designed ! Awesome job. I’ll be visitng more often.

  6. i’ll bring the anti-histamines and yarn! you bring the beer!


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