Me me me, let's talk about me! Or, There's two "me"s in "meme."

[bironic]

So theninth tagged me to do the meme where you list seven random facts about yourself, but you know what? I'm bored this week (sloooooow at work) and a little lonely, and I like you guys and I like talking about myself, so how about you ask me stuff? I reserve the right to pass if the question's too personal, but you can always ask another. Yeah? And then if you like, I'll ask you something back.

...

Oh, I give in. Here are three random facts about me—two copied from a recent comment over at cryptictac's, and one I've been saving up in case a meme like this came 'round again. shut up.

1. Most of the time, if I can't remember a word, it starts with "con-." This makes me suspect that there are tiny areas of the speech centers of the brain responsible for particular morphemes.

2. I still sometimes work on years-old Mary Sue stories in the privacy of my hard drive.

3. If I'm reading a story and someone blinks, winks, nods, shakes or jerks their head, grimaces, shrugs, smirks, squints, raises their eyebrows, snorts, etc., I do the same thing before I've realized it. Like some kind of above-the-chest reader's Tourette's.

4-9. Here are six random facts from the last round.

Comments

[bironic.livejournal.com]

I... can't picture that. Well, maybe on those photos of you as a kid when you had really long hair. Please indulge whilst I pat you on the virtual head.

A memory, she says...

I remember one day in our old house, where we lived until I was eight, my dad whispered instructions in my ear and then led me down the hall to where my mom was in the kitchen. She came to the doorway where the kitchen met the living room/hallway/entrance in our split ranch and crouched down in front of me (because I was small, y'see) when I said "come here," and then as ordered, I reached up and rubbed her eyebrows backwards. Which it turned out was something she hated, which my dad knew very well, and she spluttered and backed off and we all laughed. I felt a little bad afterwards, not having known, and perhaps a little used (though I didn't think of it that way until many years later -- poor pawn-me!), but it was still funny.

[synn.livejournal.com]

Moments like that torture me. They make me angry -- from the feeling of being used. And guilty -- b/c I feel I should have known better, somehow. I might laugh at the time, but the negative feelings from it will stick with me for *years*, and every time I look at that person it's part of what I associate w/ them.

Curls: I always wanted to wear it out like that one day, but was never brave enough to try it.