Reasons why I’m a freak:
When I was a child, I had a very rare condition called SYNETHESIA. That’s a condition that is only found in one out of 28,000 people. It’s where you experience one sense as well as another one. Some people feel textures when they taste something. Some people hear sounds when they look at pictures. Or maybe they smell something when they touch. Anyway, I would see flashs of color when I heard words or sounds. I remember that “look” was green. And “watch” was orangy yellow. It would flash over my eyes, like I was looking through the world with a filtered lens. It went away though, and it pisses me off to no end. Occaisionally, if I’m very tired or half asleep, I get it back if a loud noise startles me. Orange. Orange. Orange. A loud bang is black.
I have a tickle spot on my stomach. My gynecologist had me in hysterics on the examining table this year.
I have a messy house, but I can’t stand to see something crooked.
I can’t write anything in a fresh notebook. I’m frozen with uncertainty about the first thing to write.
Whenever I see a movie, I must immediately go and look up everything about it on IMDB.
I keep checking my Diaryland statistics every four to eight hours. Someone accessed this diary last night searching Google for the phrase Elvis Collector plates. Things like this thrill me.
I’ve chewed my nails ever since I can remember. I can’t stop.
I find it exciting to drive around town with my gas gauge on empty. Like I’m somehow screwing with the world.
Esteban tells me that I habitually shake my asthma inhaler at least five times before inhaling. Even on the second or third inhalation, when it theorhetically should be shaken enough.
At one time in my life, I wanted to marry Davy Jones of the Monkees. But not the old Davy Jones, the young 1966 era Davy Jones.
I like to karaoke. I even like to listen to other people doing karaoke. I’m two steps shy of buying my own karaoke CDs.
In the winter I require 10-11 hours of sleep. In the summer, just 8-9 hours.
I get angry when anyone talks to me in bed.
I am addicted to downloading music. I cannot stop myself.
I don’t balance my checkbook nearly enough.
I have a fantasy where I break into a Kentucky Fried Chicken and eat all the Original Recipe coating off all the chicken.
I feel sad when I watch the Brady Bunch because Alice has such a sad little life. She’s living behind the laundry room off the kitchen and the only guy she knows is the butcher, Sam, so she goes out with him. And he’s weird. And she’s the maid for a family where the wife doesn’t work. What’s up with that? There’s no job security there. But somehow I’m certain that Alice thought up that chalk board in the kitchen. And probably got no credit for it, whatsoever.
When I was a child, I wished that I was either blind or in a wheelchair. Blind because then I’d get to wear sunglasses all the time and use a cane and maybe have a seeing eye dog and everyone would feel so sorry for the tragic young blind girl. In a wheelchair because then I wouldn’t have to participate in gym class.
I used to see ghosts everywhere, too. And if I was in a scary situation, I’d get a shiver up my spine. Sometimes I still do.
I just don’t see the appeal of Jennifer Lopez. She’s not that great of an actress. Nor a singer. Nor a dancer. And now she wants to be a fashion designer? Come on, I could wear my grandmother’s sheer curtains and acheive the same effect.
I’m starting to think Madonna has lost it. She scares me a little bit now. Is she from Michigan? England? What the hell?
I sometimes keen when I’m half asleep.
I just loves me some pickled beets and cottage cheese. I like how the beets turn the cottage cheese purple.
I love to buy garden stuff, but then I don’t plant any of it and it dies.
I cannot take Pepto-Bismal unless it has been refrigerated. I don’t know why.
I must go to the bathroom when I enter our house. Even if I just went. It’s a conditioned response.
On the bathroom subject, I likewise can’t go to the bathroom in our house if I have my shoes on. They must be off.
I can’t sleep naked.
I never could see those “Magic Picture” things that were all the rage a few years back. I think they were a big hoax that no one wanted to admit that they couldn’t see.
