I usually don’t do “challenges” because they very often involve sending mass chain e-mails, filled with non-Snopes-checked information, to all your friends – usually against penalty of dying the next day, losing all your money, having terrible luck in love or something like that. Also, I hate assigned topics about as much now as I did in 4th grade (“But Mrs. Geeeeerald, why can’t we just write about anythiiiiiing?”).
But this one sounds fun, and it will give me a nice 10-day respite from coming up with blog topics of my own (though honestly, I think my disorganization lends itself to the truth that I just yank them out of some 4th dimension of irrelevance.) and things to pontificate about in general. So, this is what we’re doing. Hop on board.
TEN SECRETS (Duh-dah-dooooom…and this one’s going to be hard because I’m relatively transparent about stuff, intentionally or otherwise):
1. I have a potty mouth. This isn’t a big secret to all my closest friends and certainly not my long-suffering family, but for my church family, this one may come as a surprise. Or not. I dunno. But yeah, I am really struggling with trying to clean it up for the sake of my son and any other future kiddos. Not saying mama won’t slip up here and there – but it would just be nice if I could get it to where it’s not so second nature for me to just drop nasties here and there. I never claimed to be lady like. Oh, and also: “Ass” and “Hell” are in the Bible, and are therefore not real “cursewords.” And also, words only have the power we give them. Perhaps this is the English major in me coming out, but if I coated it in enough vitriol, I’m pretty sure I could turn “Power Pink Fluffy Puff” into a pretty caustic phrase.
2. I can hold a grudge like nobody’s business. This is not to say that I don’t forgive. What I mean by “grudge” here is that I may forgive someone for something, but it’s really challenging for me to forget and cut away whatever resulting stigma I might attach to them. So maybe that’s not forgiving at all? I feel like I forgive people, genuinely – I really do believe that. But it’s hard for me to not let the memory of some wrongdoing creep up in my pyche and say “Don’t trust him/her.” Which is really pathetic of me, because I know I’m guilty of doing similar things myself and having people hold grudges against me, and I hate it. This is also something I need to work on.
3. I fantasize about being a rock star whenever I work out to music. Pretending to be Cristina Scabbia or Joan Jett or Cherry Currie has gotten me through many a long run or hill workout. I make no apologies for this.
4. I believe in the supernatural. This is not to say I believe in ghosts, and I certainly choose not to believe – out of little more than pure, unadulterated terror – in whatever that nasty thing in “Paranormal Activity” was. But I do believe that loved ones stick with us, perhaps in some more legitimate and tangible ways than even we realize. All I know is, I have felt the presence of a few lost loved ones in a way that is beyond all explanation, but that I know is real somehow. And if that makes you finally decide that I must be crazy, I don’t know what you were waiting for.
5. I have bipolar tendencies. No, I’ve never been diagnosed. But let’s just say if you look up the top ten common signs of bipolar disorder, I have 5 or 6 of them, one close relative who shall remain nameless has 7 of them, another has 8 of them, and another has all ten of those suckers. And no, I’m not on any medication for them. One thing we (and by “we,” I mean Jonathan and I) figured out about four years ago is that any time I was on hormonal birth control, these tendencies went from just being “tendencies” to being full-on, unholy-batcrap-insane mood swings and temper flares. So we dropped the pills, rings, and other things – despite much protesting on the part of basically every Ob/Gyn I went to. I also figured out that chronic dieting and being on a steady diet of basically 1000 calories less than I actually needed, daily, for years had really not done much to help things. So I dropped that stupid mess, as well. Basically, as long as I don’t let one thing stress me out too much, take care of myself, get out of the house as much as possible, and stay off synthetic hormones, I do fine. I feel fine. I am fine. But there will always be that little mean person inside me that I have to slap around here and there, and that’s fine. I’m not scared of it, and you shouldn’t be either.
6. I am about 85% recovered from middle and high school. Comparatively speaking, was it that bad? Yes. It was the crappiestcrapcrapper ever. Will I be attending my 10 year reunion? Well, yeah, most likely. We’re a one-income family, so it’ll depend on what the cost is to attend (I hear they can get pretty steep). But I’d really like to. I’ve grown up a lot since high school, and so has everyone else. And in retrospect, a) I wouldn’t change anything, and b) it wasn’t really as bad as it could’ve been. Nobody raped me, I had a date for both proms, I only got smacked around a few times, I didn’t develop any drug or alcohol problems, I never got arrested, and I only got unceremoniously dumped or gossiped about maybe 20 or 30 times. Mostly it was just a lot of nasty name-calling and underhanded stuff. But I met someone from pretty much every walk of life along the way, including a first love, a number of talented people I respect so much, and the meanest person I have ever known in my entire life. It was a valid experience.
7. I am recklessly insecure. I’d imagine it’s kind of like deer urine, but on a human scale, which only teenagers and really hateful people can detect. Probably explains the God awful high school experience?
8. I like elevator music. The stuff they play on the adult contemporary stations? The stuff they play in doctor’s office waiting rooms? Love it. Could sleep to it. I like other stuff to balance it out, so I feel like it’s okay.
9. I sometimes wish I could go back and be a chef. Don’t get me wrong, I loved being an English major and writing and all that. I’d still write, no matter what I’d ended up doing career wise. And though I’m not sure I’d cook crazy stuff like Marcel Vigneron from “Top Chef,” (since basically half of every dish was some sort of foam or gastrique or something else like that), I’d love the opportunity to be a good ol’ Southern chef. Like the guys that run Soby’s in Greenville, or Darren Smith from The Bistro in my hometown of Conway. That said, the hours those people pull can get pretty crazy. And we all know I hate working weekends (judge me, I don’t care).
10. I’m out of secrets. Or at least, I’m out of secrets that I’m going to tell you.