31 + 1

(Me at five.)

Perhaps it is simply the nature of birthdays, but I have been in quite a self-reflective mood lately.  Rather than compiling a list of thirty-two things to do in my thirty-second year, I have decided, instead, to write a list of thirty-two things about myself.  And so here they are, in no particular order and theme:


I am an excellent secret keeper.  I also have a very long memory. 

I almost have a Master's in English, but I am one course shy of the degree (it is a tad more complicated than it sounds).  I don't believe I will ever complete it.  This bothers others more than it does myself.   (My favorite research paper I wrote during my M.A. experience was on the narrative structure of Wuthering Heights.)

I am an avid daydreamer.  I daydream best when I am in motion.  This has led to me having a bad reputation for wandering into traffic. 

My favorite colors are the hues of the ocean, from dawn until dusk, in sunlight and in storm cloud.  

I idolized my brothers growing up, and I still do.

I claim to only be a sentimentalist, but I am a closet romantic.  I could watch Masterpiece Theater on endless loop reels.

I have a faint birthmark that circles my eye.  My mother told me once when I was very young, possibly in an attempt to make me less self-conscious, that birthmarks are evidence of having been kissed by a guardian angle at birth.  Although not a spiritual person, I have always carried this thought with me.

I am afraid of the dark when I am alone.  I cannot sleep for fear of zombies and everything that goes bump in the night.

In contradiction to the last statement, I am not afraid of being alone, or of silent pauses in conversation.

I love the ocean because it reminds me of how small I truly am.  Most every major decision in my life has been discussed and decided within a few steps from one oceanic body or another.

If I could, I would move to New Zealand with barely a second thought.

I took intensive first year Latin and received all “A” pluses.  I don't know that I remember a thing, other than that Catulus wrote dirty poems.

Like my mother, I actually have a pretty singing voice, but I only sing when I think no one is listening.

Evidently I once slept through an entire viewing of The Princess Bride and laughed at all the appropriate moments.
 
I am incredibly shy when I first meet people, and can be incredibly the opposite once I know them.

I still make wishes by holding my breath when I pass through tunnels.

When I was little, my mother would have to take me, not to get my hair cut, but the knots cut out.  I quite literally had leaves and twigs (and squirrels) interwoven with my hair on days when the adventures were at their most involved.

I have always wished there was a means to erase the memory of our favorite film or novel, so we could once again, experience them for the first time.

The day I have a house and a yard to call my own I will immediately seek out the perfect Labrador-mutt.

My yard will have a weeping willow, a dwarf hazelnut tree, and thorn-less raspberry bushes.

Like my sweetie, I like to skirt a thin line of anonymity, and while I prefer to blend with the shadows, I also love ballroom dancing, and would love to take lessons again someday.

I have always admired brave and brazen people.  I hope to be one someday.  I am going to attempt to be brave in the upcoming year.

I do not believe in reading books with a pencil in hand.   The pages only disappear if the book itself is the only solid form in your hands.

Among my favorite adolescent memories of my on-going adventures with my brother, A, is the night he asked if I wanted to go out for ice cream, and then proceeded to drive us the forty-five minutes into San Francisco for the massive ice cream sundaes they make at Ghirardelli Deli Square.  What I love more, is that my parents never seemed to mind our adventures.

And on the topic of brothers…I am the luckiest only sister in possibly the world.  Each Valentine’s Day my brothers would fill the paper sack that hung outside my bedroom door to the brim with handmade Valentines.  I have kept each and every one.

Though I claim to be self-taught, this is only a partial truth.  My mother is a talented seamstress, and an ever-patient teacher.  It is due to my own stubbornness that I often failed to ask for help.   I now see her for the tremendous resource that she is, and it is only because of her that I have slowly acquired three lovely sewing machines and just about every tool and gadget under the sun.

To say I am stubborn is an understatement.  I detest being told what to do.  Peer pressure never had a chance with me.

I am terrible at saying no, even when it is clear that I ought to.  (This, too, contradicts the above statement, but both are true.)

I do not believe I am the only daughter to believe this, but I think my dad is the greatest man alive.

I am a terrible liar, so I don't even try.  I would always exaggerate; I couldn't help myself.

When my sweetie met me, I ate nothing but toast, made on the oven broiler.  His first gift to me was a toaster. 

Even at thirty-two, I have been looking forward to my birthday for a week, and I couldn’t be happier than to spend it with my family and friends, and most especially, my sweetie too. 

Comments

[jenni s-g]

What a great list! Happy Birthday!

[Leah]

That was beautiful and inspiring! Happy birthday!

[A Friend]

You should sing more, there is nothing more sweet than a voice singing a small tune. If you are shy, plants love when you sing to them, it keeps them incredibly happy.

[Ransom]

What a terrific list.

I also wish I could re-experience first readings and watchings of my favorite things, but my memory is so crappy I'm scared to wish for it...