In Which Our Heroine

‘Scuse the two year old picture and whatever weird thing I’m doing with my mouth/cheek.

Hello! I’ve realised that, even though this is a personal blog, there is almost nothing personal on here. You see my boyfriend, I whine about my leg, I share some school stuff, but that’s it. One of my favourite blogs ever is Pacing the Panic Room; the family is freaking adorable, but what I really like is that he is extremely candid about his life. I am not that kind of person - I am very private, and on the rare occasion I do share something more than superficial with you, I delete it soon after it’s posted.

I used to journal all the time. When I was sixteen my mother found, and read, my journal. After that, I stopped. I don’t want everyone to know every little detail about my life, but I do feel like I need to actually start writing things out again. I used to love writing. Despite my cruddy intarwebz writing, I am not actually horrible at it - it’s just a matter of sitting down and taking time to, y’know, compose things. I think I’m going to maybe start doing that more.

Anyway!

1. I dream every time I sleep. It doesn’t matter how short the sleep; I always dream. Nine times out of ten it’s a nightmare, and I don’t mean oh-no-I’m-lost or oh-no-a-falling-dream. My dreams are incredibly vivid; nightmares are absolutely horrible, but when I do have a good dream.. it’s pretty ace. I also have dreams within dreams within dreams - it is not as cool as it looks in Inception. There is nothing awesome about not knowing if the person next to you is real, or if you’re dying, or when you’re really awake.
2. I have been a vegetarian since I was thirteen. I was vegan for about three years, but, y’know, cheesecake.
3. I do not wear makeup, though sometimes I wish I knew how.
4. It is nearly impossible to embarrass me. When I was ten and started getting boobs, my mother took me to the ER. Boobs develop like testicles - one is a bit bigger than the other, one pokes out first. My mother raised my shirt over my head, poked me in the nipple, and shouted “WHAT IS WRONG WITH MY DAUGHTER?!” It’s hard to top that.
5. I freaking hate small talk. I sort of hate all talk, actually. I am incredibly bad at conversation, partly because I just don’t see the need for it. I don’t know how to have discussions really; I see most things as pretty black and white, yes or no. If you ask a question, I answer it - the end. This is different on the interwebz. Most of the things I’ve learned about conversations I have learned from books. Old ones. Or the internet. This obviously has not helped. Example: I read a thing about sharing stories and news and blahblah, so, I explained how a penis is turned into a vagina during gender reassignment surgery. Because I read a story about it! In the news! I did this at a birthday party. Two people left. Oops. I don’t mind too much - I am an extreme introvert and I’d rather have 0-2 friends than a whole bunch. In case you are wondering (as my best-friend-aside-from-the-fella was), no, I do not have Asperger’s, though I did score a 42 on the Autism Spectrum Quotient Test.

These five things were all that I could think of! Semi-personal facts that are integral parts of my personality. I chose 25, ‘cause I’m 25 (hur hur) and I am bad at “About Me” pages. If you can think of anything to add.. tell me! ‘Cause I am stumped. Also, this is obviously not for your benefit. Haha. It’s just something for me to be more focused on, which I need.