It’s the 8 Habits/Truths Meme, and A.F. and I have been tagged by Susan at ChickenSpaghetti, and by Jen from Jen Robinson’s Book Page.The rules of this meme are pretty basic: a player lists 8 facts/habits about themselves, posts the ‘rules’ the beginning before those facts/habits are listed, and ends the post by tagging 8 people and posts their names, and leaving them a comment on their blog, letting them know that they are “it” and asking them to read the ‘tagster’s’ blog. (Right now I’m scouring my brain to figure out who else to ask! How do these things end?)
You have now been warned, so let the games begin:
non-threatening.
2. I have never really learned to drink coffee, but every once in awhile I go out with friends and order a cup, then make it 3/4ths soy milk and sweetener.
3. I got a D in 10th grade typing – my worst semester grade in high school. Mrs. Miller should now be pleased that I type 88 words per minute at last test. I am now pleased that in real life, things like that don’t matter.
4. I have always wanted to knit, crochet, paint or play the pianoforte. I would have made a good Elizabethan, but if I’d lived back then, I would have been a slave, so it’s just as well. Anyway, I can now knit – slowly – play the piano – a little, crochet – a chain – and paint – badly. Art is long, and life is short, right?
5. I cry – a lot. I always hope that people can’t tell, but books, commercials, movies, church, classical music, love songs, cute dogs, cute children, old people, fathers and daughters, couples … it’s freaking ridiculous, and the list goes on forever. Just about anything can set me off, and I. Hate. It. It’s ridiculous. I’m not even sentimental. Or not very sentimental, anyway.
6. I am slightly scared of my agent. Remember that thing I said about life and death? Ditto.
7. I am a closet reader. I like small spaces, and you can usually find me under the stairs in the living room with my beanbags and a bag of books. That’s a throwback from childhood, and the days when I had to hide to get a second to read, or someone would find me “something useful to do.”
8. Before it existed as a genre, I started writing “fan fiction” when I was eight- with Anne of Green Gables. Until I was a junior in high school, I never knew there were sequels… (don’t ask) and thus, disgusted with how it ended, I wrote volumes of “what happened next” books – and I changed Gilbert’s life. A lot.
Eight Random Truths about me. As you can see, I am both important and trivial, normal and strange, extraordinary, and just like everyone else. Welcome to my world!
Sadly, I can’t think of anyone to tag who hasn’t already been tagged or who would be willing to play, but I do like finding out all these weird little tidbits about all of you. (I’m still amused that Kelly doesn’t like feet.) Jen and Susan, thanks for including us!
TadMack, I am still slightly intimidated by record stores and the cooler-than-cool sales clerks.
I know, the feet thing is weird. I think it means I’m crazy, but what can you do…
I cry a lot too, and like you I HATE it.
What I hate most about the crying thing is that I tend to cry when I’m angry, which seems to be totally involuntary and the LAST thing I actually want to be doing at that moment. Like you, T, I don’t consider myself a sentimental person, either…
I wandered over from looking at yall’s yahoo group, but I have to say – I’m a closet reader too! And for the exact same reason…growing up, sitting in the same spot for too long meant either being given a chore or having my dad come in and want to talk . I definitely learned the art of reading in small, unexpected places.
Anyway, again, great blog!
I love item #7, about the closet reading. I can totally picture this little kid hiding away to read her book. I didn’t have to hide, myself, and having three younger siblings means that I can do a pretty good job of tuning out my surroundings while I read. This is very useful on airplanes.
I really want to know more about this alternate life for Gilbert…
Och, Gilbert. He gets beaten up in several versions, and I think Diana almost drowns him in one. Gilbert’s life expectancy varied on my age and relation to boys. He never fared well until I was closer to thirteen. Then… he started looking a lot like this boy named Danny… and he became a police detective…