You Say "Weird," I Say "Eccentric"

So, Dale tagged me. (Which a sentence I don't think I'll ever type again, by the way.) And I have to write ten weird things about me. But I'm a little sad that I only have to write a list of ten. Because I'm pretty sure I could fill a list of a hundred things.

1) I'm full of strange little idiosyncrasies. Things like:

• I can't sleep on the open end of the pillowcase. Something about all that fabric just dangling there freaks me out.
• I can't drink water out of a bottle if it's been shaken in my presence. I think it makes it taste different or something. It makes it slimy. BUT! If said bottle is shaken when I can't bear witness to it, I'd probably drink right out of that bottle and never know that it had been shaken.
• I hate taking baths, and I hate hot tubs. Because I feel dirtier after taking baths (what's the point of sitting around in your own dirty water?), and also because I think the feel of my butt on that smooth bathtub is gross. And the hot tubs? It's too hot, first of all, and I feel like I'm being boiled for human stew. I think that one stems back to a Far Side comic that had a few pioneers or jungle explorers or something sitting in a huge, obviously boiling, cauldron of water and the cannibals surrounding them are slicing carrots and potatoes into the water.

2) I have a very detailed routine when it comes to eating my favorite food: Lima Beans. Firstly, they cannot touch any of the other items on my plate, which means they usually wind up in a bowl all of their own. The "not touching" doesn't have anything to do with them being contaminated by my other foods, it's just that I like to preserve the taste/butter/salt on the beans. Then, since they're already buttered, I pour a good helping of salt over them. And then I scan the pile of beans for what looks like a good bean, and it eat it. AFTER I peel the skin off. Depending on how the skin removes, whether it slides of easily or tears off, dictates whether I eat the bean or the skin first. This process is repeated for as long as it takes to eat all of the beans. I just can't eat them by the spoonful/forkful. I don't like to eat them whole. So one-by-one it is.

3) I have full-on concerts in my car. The windshield is where my audience sits, looking on in sheer awe. I imagine the whole "Getting Called to the Stage by Surprise" routine in my head before I launch into song. Certain songs call for certain imaginary settings. But, whatever the venue, the principal is the same: Me, singing heartbreakingly wonderful songs, with ease and perfection while people I know look on in amazement.

4) The alternative to the full concert, however, is the "Music Video" situation. In this, I am in the artist's music video, the theme of which has something to do with me driving. Naturally. And I am either the main actress in this video, where the artists sings over me, and I look longingly or desperately or angrily out of the window, depending on the song. Or I am the narrator of the video, in which case I sing...this is hard to admit...into the rearview mirror.

5) In this age of iPods and downloads and Limewire, I'd prefer to not find a CD before it's released or leaked online, and I still prefer to buy my music at the store. Because then I can look forward to the release date, and then I can rush to the store on that date and buy the CD. Then I get the crisp jewel case, and I get to see the album artwork, the lyrics, the look of the disc itself. I just love that. And then, later, I can look around and see the accumulation of my purchases. Which makes me proud, because I love music that much.

6) I'm far too protective of what I consider to be my personal space. Some would even go so far as to say it is unhealthy. I hate when people stand too close to me when speaking (if I can feel/smell their breath, that is too close.) and I will, with no amount of secrecy or shame, back away. This usually causes the close-talker to move in closer, but I'll continue to back away until I am either literally backed into a corner, or until they get the hint. Whichever comes first. I don't like to be touched by people I don't know well. Social kisses and hugs are one thing, but the brushing of someone's thigh against my own when sitting on something like a bench? Unacceptable. I just don't like it. I feel like it's invasive, and I don't appreciate it. I always quote Dirty Dancing in this instance: "This is your dance space, this is my dance space." Indeed.

The only exception to this rule is Billy. My family members are excepted on a case-by-case basis.

7) Additionally, I'm very much like a five year old when it comes to possessions. I live my life in very definite terms of yours and mine. The scissors at my desk? Mine. My desk drawers and the contents thereof? Mine. Candy I've purchased? Mine. I don't mind sharing as long as I'm asked, but I hate walking into a room and seeing someone with something of mine in their hands. A perfect example would be my old job: I have certain pens that I love - because they fit well in my hands, write smoothly, etcetera. And, from time to time, I'd leave the pen in the back or on another desk because I was busy and distracted. Hours later, I'd see someone else using it, and I would see red. Because that person had to know that pen wasn't hers, so why was she using it? Conversely, I think I'm very good at not taking things that clearly belong to someone else. If it is necessary that I use something that does not belong to me, I will ask first, or make mention of it later. I'm pretty sure it goes back to my younger days, when my brother and I would fight so much and so fiercely that we had to be separated. Our rooms were safe zones, and we were not allowed into one another's rooms without permission. And if my mom bought, for instance, ice cream Chase had requested, and I went to eat it, I'd hear the "Uh-uh. That's Chase's ice cream." And he would hear the same thing if something were purchased for me. It was an act instituted to keep the peace, and it has never left me. Some say it's polite, some say it's childish. I say I can't help it.

8) I'm extremely polite. Which, I know, isn't a bad thing. But I'm polite to a fault. Guilt is a big factor, as is worrying what other people think of me. I will buy things I don't even like at a store if the sales girl/guy is nice to me. I feel like it's rude if they've spent time helping me and I leave without making a purchase. I know they're paid to be there, but still. I just hate feeling like I'm wasting people's time. In social situations, if someone offends me, it's very rare that I'll speak up for myself. I'd rather be a doormat than be misconstrued as a bitch. If someone upsets me by doing or saying something that I feel is a personal affront, I'll just marinate in my anger until it passes rather than telling that person that I'm upset. Because I don't want to make waves, and I don't want to fight. I have many people in my life who, possibly inadvertently, have offended me, but I'd never say a word. Going further, when I purchase cigarettes or gas or toilet paper or anything, I always conclude my time with the cashier with a "Thank you very much." Even if they're rude. And not just Thank you, but a sincere Thank you very much or Thank you so much. I say thank you every time the waiter/waitress does anything at my table when I'm dining out. I've thanked each and every person who opens or holds a door for me. I thank each car that lets me out into traffic, and I'm usually the car who lets people out of parking lots and into the road. I stop for pedestrians. I squeeze myself into walls and table to allow people to pass me in aisles and walkways, always giving the stranger the benefit of space. And I get furious with people who don't do the same. It's common courtesy. But, also, I think has something to do with the fact that I can't stomach the thought of the person I didn't thank/let in to traffic/let pass me going through their day thinking, "God. She was so rude."

9) I can't dive. I can jump into a pool, but I cannot dive. Something about my body just will not allow me to curve my body the way you need to curve to dive. I always just end up belly flopping in.

10) I'm scared of very deep water. When I was on my cruise, if I sat and thought of just how much space was below me, how much water there was around me...How far down I'd have to sink before hitting bottom and how there was nothing around me but water for hundreds, thousands, of miles, it really freaked me out. I think it's the helplessness, the hopelessness of it that bothers me. Also, I can't swim in any body of water whose floor I can't see. It's two-fold: One, if I can't see the bottom, it's clearly VERY DEEP, and we now know how I feel about that. Secondly, I need to see what's down there so I don't get stung/pinched/bitten by anything lurking around in the sand or murk. That one goes back to my summers spent at Hilton Head Island with my grandmother who once, while walking through knee-high brownish water, had her big toe pinched by a crab. That crap ripped up the skin on the side of her toe and made me scared enough to never walk in water that didn't reveal its inhabitants.

So that's all I'm obligated to tell you. I'm not tagging anyone because I don't want to put anyone on the spot. But if you read this and want to do it to, go right ahead. It's fun making people think you're crazy!