Six Random Facts Meme (still going around, it seems)

[bironic]

daasgrrl doesn't usually tag people, so when she does she must be heeded.

Thus, six random facts about me that aren't fandom-related or easily intuited by reading this LJ. Some of you won't know any of these and almost none of you know all of them.

1. I'm allergic to cats. This makes me sad because they're soft and warm and furry and because synn has two and often I want to curl up on her couch but hesitate to do so for fear of respiratory arrest.

2. My hair is really curly. Like, ringlets-at-the-bottom curly. Can't cut it too short or things get horrific.

3. I've taken Irish step dance lessons for a couple of years and love it and am actually turning out to be quite good at it, which is weird not only because I haven't a drop of Irish blood in me but also because I hate dancing otherwise—you will only see me at a club or on a dance floor under duress. I envy people who know how instinctively to move to music.

4. I've been afraid of death since about the age of twelve, and as an atheist (raised Jewish) I'm utterly unable to temper it with the solace of an afterlife or greater meaning. The "you'll live on in people's memories" thing doesn't do it for me either. That's one of the reasons I'm so attracted to the idea of vampires. With notable exceptions like House, you can pretty much peg my fandoms as those that can support a character saying some variation of, "When I died..."

5. Despite growing up in the '80s, I have never seen such generation-defining movies as The Breakfast Club, The Goonies, Footloose, Nightmare on Elm Street and Top Gun. I didn't even see The Lost Boys and Fast Times at Ridgemont High till a couple of years ago. Don't even get started on popular music and TV shows then.

6. When I was a kid I had a mortal fear of E.T., especially of that scene where he's lying all white and sick at the bottom of the ravine. It got so bad that, in addition to bad dreams, some nights as I was falling asleep I'd open my eyes and "see" him peering over the edge of the bed at me, inches away. To protect against the screaming fright, I started positioning my comforter around my head on the side of the bed that faced the room, like the wall of a fort. My parents were afraid I'd suffocate myself. Eventually I grew out of it (we made our peace with each other, fittingly, in a dream). It wasn't until high school that I learned the term "hypnagogic hallucination" and found out what had been going on.

Not going to tag anyone, and I know some of you have done this already, but if you do want to volunteer, be sure to drop a comment with the link!

Comments

[bell]

4. When you said, "When I died..." the novel The Posthumous Memoirs of Bras Cubas popped instantly to mind. The narrator writes about his life from beyond the grave in a playful fashion. I'd highly recommend it. :D

[bironic.livejournal.com]

That looks like an interesting book. I don't think I've ever read any literature from South or Latin America before, strangely, except for some Neruda. And what could be better than that other than 19th-century South or Latin American literature? Thank you, I shall put it on my depressingly long list of books to get hold of.