thing-a-meme
Once again, I’ve been tagged to list some things that still make me, well, me. So hang onto your hats, people, it’s time for our second (and last) go ‘round into my version of “What Do You Meme?
Others you'll find milling about in this place: My family, all of whom will write books about me, later, based on therapy transcripts. Lots of friends, both old and new. Various dogs, though Scarlet O’Hara Howard is prominently featured for her intellect and general good nature.
Born in Ohio, but I’ve lived in the Commonwealth of Kentucky for the past 14 years.
I'm addicted to capturing moments, people, and places.
I'm in a tawdry love triangle with architecture, art, and writing.
I covet good socks above all else. That might be because I absolutely hate feet.
I love to debate, though I often get myself in trouble. Socrates is a role model.
I prefer NCAA football over its professional counterpart. The Ohio State University Buckeyes are without question or hesitation my favorite of all time.
I lose/search for nothing as often as I lose/search for rubber bands. And so now you'll almost always find me with a rubber band dangling around my wrist. And invariably, I'll end up losing/searching for that, too.
Two words: critical thinking.
I have a fascination with people and ideas that leads me, vicariously, around the globe and back. Daily.
I collect rocks from most everywhere I go.
My favorite book as a child was The Little Prince by Antoine Saint-Exupery. All these years later, it remains in my top five.
My two favorite films are Cinema Paradiso and Elf.
I laugh. A lot. When I'm not, there's at least a semi-perpetual mischievous, sarcastic grin on my face.
I keep my pens and pencils in separate pencil boxes on my desk.
I do not like the sun on me. I attribute this to being a natural redhead. And although there are those non-gingers who insist that it’s possible for a redhead to tan, I speak for all my people when I say this: that’s not a tan you think you see on us from a distance — it’s full-thickness third-degree burns that go nearly to the bone.
I may, indeed, become invisible in a snow squall, but my perfectly translucent skin is fine with the life choices I’ve made.
I connect deeply with places. I would disintegrate and die without learning.
There are precious few things I wouldn’t quickly sacrifice for my mom’s biscuits and gravy.
I believe very strongly in the innate and extreme magic and power of the human brain and untapped human ability.
If I ever claim bankruptcy, it'll be over books. And yes, that would be acceptable.
My favorite color is, or at least was, red.
I'm afraid of heights, and I get vertigo pretty bad.
I once stood at the paint swatch aisle in Home Depot and pocketed/brought home swatches of every single Glidden color on the market. No reason, other than I’m colorblind. They're on a shelf by my desk and represent a portion of what I’m unable to see, yet remember.
My reason for maintaining a journal is for the secret hope that by doing so, you'll breathe in the same (deep, sweet, ambiguous, long, funny, poignant, life-changing, silly, strong, enigmatic, selfish, excited, beautiful, difficult ... ) moment that I am, and we can collectively share that between us.
I believe that imperfections are the fibers that tie us all together and create a greater humanism and collective experience. But few seem to acknowledge, remember or value that.
My strongest affinities are the moon, the stars, and puppies.
Dirt roads.
My mind easily becomes too complicated and won't shut off. I have trouble letting things remain unresolved.
I dig my heels into conversations and questions. I tend to be more raw and direct than most are comfortable with; consequently, I often tug at my comfort zones. I make no apologies for fundamental truths. Collectively, these have all cost, and earned, friendships over the years.
I value above all else good parenting, social commitment, and personal integrity.
I value the least money, status, and social pretense.
One of my favorite opening lines is, ”I am doomed to remember a boy with a wrecked voice.” John Irving, A Prayer for Owen Meany
With most things, I'm satisfied only briefly before it's time to see what else is possible. It’s both a blessing and a curse.
