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

[rubberbutton.livejournal.com]

Okay, I was just over here since I usually investigate anyone who leaves me a comment, but we have so many uncanny similarities, I had to remark. Normally I don't ever talk to anyone unless we've been properly introduced in polite society. ;-D

I'm allergic to cats (okay, a coincidence less than uncanny), took Irish dance (unfortunately I mostly just sucked, enthusiasm =/= talent), I'm in the exact same boat as you on the death thing. I'm terrified of not existing. And E.T. That hairless little monkey is just creepy.

[bironic.livejournal.com]

Hooray for commentor-stalkage, uncanny similarities and sympathizing with allergies to cute animals. Did you take Irish dance lessons long enough to get into the hard-shoe stuff? I can't get enough of it. The rhythms are such fun, and the jigs and hornpipes are easier than the reels and slip jigs because you can stay close to the floor instead of leaping all over the place.

That hairless little monkey is just creepy.

Ha!

I'm terrified of not existing.

The end of consciousness has got to be the most terrifying concept to contemplate. Have you ever read Philip Larkin's poem "Aubade" (http://amb.cult.bg/british/6/larkin/aubade.htm)? It's one of my favorites for the way it captures the feeling of lying awake at night thinking about non-existence.

[rubberbutton.livejournal.com]

Did you take Irish dance lessons long enough to get into the hard-shoe stuff?

Yeah, hard-shoes were pretty awesome...man, the number of times I busted ass in them, though. >_< This summer I had the rather surreal experience of (trying) to teach Spainards Irish dance at an impromtu feis. I still enjoy dancing around in my ghillies once in awhile. I really am pretty terrible, though. I have no sense of rhythm.

Have you ever read Philip Larkin's poem "Aubade"?

I have now. :-P The most annoying bit is knowing that it's stupid to be worried about non-existance now, since when I actually non-exist it won't bother me. If that made sense... But sometimes reason is just as unappealing as religion.

[bironic.livejournal.com]

How timely for House to have once again referenced this very topic last night, with their little "I always wondered what was on the other side." / "Nothing." exchange.

knowing that it's stupid to be worried about non-existance now

Except the not-existing thing is what the problem is! It seems perfectly reasonable to be afraid of the inevitable absence of a self. It's a matter of where a person's fear lies.

I still enjoy dancing around in my ghillies once in awhile. I really am pretty terrible, though. I have no sense of rhythm.

Well, as long as you enjoy yourself, right? I'm lucky enough to have inherited a good ear for melody and rhythm from my mother (because it's definitely not from my dad!).