Odd Habits I Have Loved.
I turn 31 in a month and a half. Please say I don't look 31...not
because 31 is some horrible age to be (quite the contrary), but because
it sounds like a horrible age to look! 30 is prime, 32 is sexy, but 31? As Napoleon Dynamite would say, "GOSH!!"
In the (apparently) long time I've been roaming this planet thus
far, I've developed a heaping share of personal idiosyncrasies that
shame and delight me all at once. These Megisms bewilder my family,
confuse my friends, and string me along in their wake like the OCD
puppet I am.
What Megisms, you ask?
*I always spell the following five words wrong, nearly without exception (and yes, I used to win spelling bees):
Tomorrow (usually penned 'tommorow'); Address ('adress'); Recipe
('reciepe'); Restaurant ('resturant'); and Inveterate ('inveterite').
I'm not sure what it is about the "Idiot Five", as I like to call them, but they exist as my only Spell Check bugaboos to date.
*I am a terrible DVD watcher. Every other twenty or thirtysomething I know on the face of the earth
enjoys frequent DVD viewing, in groups or as an individual. Most of
them even own a small (or large) selection of favoured cinematic works,
but do I? No. I own a single VHS tape of 'Pulp Fiction', and that's it!
I don't even really like that movie, but I bought it once
when was with a boy who really wanted to see it, and all the copies
were gone from the store. I find it nearly impossible to sit still for
a whole movie, and I outright refuse to purchase them...I mean, once
I've forced myself to sit through something, why in heaven's name would
I want to watch it again and again? I mean, one more viewing might be
plausible, but three? Seven? Nineteen? I know people who watch their
favourite flicks over and over, and I cannot grasp how this could
possibly be a fitting diversion. Would you have the same meal for
dinner every night? No. Would you have the same conversation every day?
No! Only if you were on Crossfire. Stop living in the past! Put that 'Criterion Collection' fund to proper use, and go out and see a movie!
I adore movie theatres. Love them. I could spend a whole
evening in their hushed darkness, and not even notice the passage of
time. Bliss!
But give me a lumpy couch, someone hogging the remote, the
fridge humming invitingly from mere feet away, the endless group
capacity for bathroom breaks, lamps lit left right and centre, a total
lack of hockey, plus an ongoing viewer commentary ("I totally didn't
get that last part...'), and you've lost me completely. No one I know
can understand my issues with this activity. In fact, I'm sure my
future husband (whichever poor sod he might be) is probably planning
some cuddly DVD nights with me (his dream spouse) right this moment.
Little does he know that I'll be wandering the house aimlessly while he
watches the Special Features.
*I love taking photos of myself and other people by a) holding the
camera at arm's length, b) saying a Hail Mary, and c) snapping away.
These photos are dearer to me than a whole galleryful of Leibovitzes
and Avedons and Arbuses and Adamses. They capture odd expressions,
spontaneous moments, and more pores than a dermatologist should see in
a lifetime of practice. Sometimes, if you squint hard enough, you can
even see notable scenery in the background.
*I have a laundry fetish. I can't stop doing laundry. As soon as
I've worn something, I get this inescapable urge to restore it to
fluffy, warm purity. My obsession causes me to shrink sweaters, destroy
t-shirts, fade my black clothing, and turn my jeans into floods.
I resolve often to become one of those 'hang to dry' people, and to
sometimes leave the bleach in the cupboard when I do my whites. I mean,
those concessions alone could save millions of endangered fibres a
year, right? But would everything feel soft and snug, just as it did
straight out of the tumble cycle? No. Would my pale clothing sparkle
with stain-free fabulousness? No.
I am killing my clothes wash by wash. But I feel so, so clean.
*I can't sleep in a room with a closed window. I'm not sure why,
other than the fact that I sincerely believe I'll roast to death if I
don't keep one open. I love cool breezes while I sleep, and will only
batten the hatches if there is something truly weird going on outside,
like a giant colony of rats scaling the outside of my apartment,
nuclear fallout, or both.
If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times: mutant rodents are a good reason to shut any and all windows.
*I wash dishes with water so hot that my hands turn the colour of
radishes, and other people cry out when they reach in to pull out a
fork or a cup. I often wonder if I am slightly leperous, because I
really don't feel it at all.
*I scream a fair amount. Not in an angry way, or a panicked way, or
even a thrilled kind of way. Just in an 'ahhhhh!' kind of way. The
screams are short, quiet, and normally inaudible to the public at
large, but I let them fly at least a hundred times a day. Drop
something on the floor? Tiny scream. Walk into a wall? Thump, then tiny
scream. Get startled by an earwig in the bathtub? Tiny scream. See a
Jim Carrey movie starting on TV? You guessed it...no, wait, that scream
is audible.
The thing is, I'm not wailing out of fear. It's more of a tiny,
cartoon mock-reaction to everyday events. It's my version of the
Emergency Broadcast System Test: "This is not a scream. In the event of
an emergency, you would hear a real, ear-splitting, neighbour-alerting
scream. This is only a test."
Ahhhhhh!
1:07:57 AM 
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