What'u know 'bout me what'u what'u know 'bout me?

For the record, I REALLY hate that song.

So… flipping through my mental Rolodex of post ideas as I often do (it’s been pretty empty lately), I thought of those tags where you have to tell 8/ 10 things about yourself. Well, I didn’t get tagged, so I’m just doing it anyway. I tried to think of things that could possibly be classified as interesting, in some parallel universe…

1) I have an orange piano.
I’d wanted to play piano for YEARS, until in 7th grade my friend told me about a family friend who was giving away their piano for free. Free is my favorite number, so we jumped on the chance, went to see the piano. It was big. And orange. But, hey, free is free. So we put it into my house on Christmas Eve day. I have the quirkiest piano I’ve ever encountered—it’s been painted this lovely orange, and it’s huge—tall, that is. It was actually made in the twenties, and it used to be a player piano. It’s out of tune, and several keys are so horribly tuned that they are basically the sound of someone whacking the strings with a hammer. Or… something. It’s so weird to think that my piano was in someone else’s house—it seems so truly mine, such a part of my house. I love banging out Hush Sound tunes while swaying violently. My piano is basically my personality manifested in an instrument: odd, quirky, offbeat, with a few bum notes every now and then but if you know me really well you don’t even notice. I can be loud or soft (ie, QUIET), depending on I’m with. Voila. I= piano.

2) I love climbing trees.

I am at home among the branches, green leaves brushing my face. I love just climbing, higher, higher. Swinging my feet twenty feet off the ground is simply exhilarating. When the wind blows, and branches sway all around me but the trunk stands still, I feel this deep connection the earth. I know that’s crunchy and shit, but it’s so true.

3) I am obsessed with Jason Castro.
Every year, I say, “I’m not going to watch American Idol this year.” Especially after last year, everyone pretty much sucked. But every year I find my self flipping on Fox with a sigh of, “God, I can’t believe I subject myself to this.” Well this year, my friend frantically came into school one day (it was top 24 week, which I did not partake in) gushing about this Jason Castro go. Went home, looked up his performance, saw his beautiful eyes, sexy hands and beyond-cool dreds, and I was gone. My friend and I frantically IM every Tuesday during the show, hoping that Jason will pick a good song and squealing like little girls every time he does something funny. We always wonder in astonishment why we find him so attractive—we can’t figure it out for the life of us, and we share our minute-by-minute reactions. It’s great fun. Watching TV with someone not there is about the greatest way to watch TV. On Wednesdays (results show night, for those of you with lives), we IM frantically again, and literally shake (yes, we get THAT nervous for Jason), and when he is safe, a lot of this is involved: “YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.” But multiply it by a thousand.


EYES. EYES. EYES.

We plan on going to the American Idols Live tour this summer and making t-shirts. If we could meet Jason… I’m pretty sure I would just freeze up and gape. See how we sink so low, just for our love of a slightly-girly man? But listen to him sing “Hallelujah” or “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” and try NOT to appreciate how he so does not fit the cookie-cutter Idol mold. CASTRONETTES O8, Y’ALL!!!



4) I am 5’10”.
Thank you, Person I Have Not Seen In A While, I AM tall, thank you so much for noticing. What’s that? You say I’m taller than my mom? Am I REALLY, thank you SO much for pointing that out to me!
Yeah, I’m really tall. I don’t really notice it, considering…well, I’m always at that altitude, so it’s not a big deal. It certainly comes in handy though. I get a lot of “HOW can you REACH that?” I just laugh cryptically. It’s great fun. The only down side is that I’m taller than many guys, including my prom date. :/. Ah, well. It worked for Nicole and Keith.

5) I love old things.

Everything’s better with a story behind it. I’d rather borrow great Art Deco jewelry from my grandma for prom than go to Penneys and get some crappy stuff. I love old books, old photographs, old people. A hand-sewn blanket is so much more rewarding than a store-bought, new one. Why buy a new belt when I can wear one of my mom’s from the seventies? I just love the feeling of being connected to the past, of reusing things. Who wore these suspenders before I did? I’ll never know, but I can wonder about it.

6) I had jaundice when I was a baby.
Yes, I came out a weird peachy-rose color, but quickly turned yellow. Not, like, SUNSHINE yellow, but a tint of yellow all the same. So my mom just sat me in the sun every afternoon and voila, normal baby color. Good thing I didn’t get jaundice as an adult—the whites of your eyes turn yellow. Can you say CREEPY? I won’t frighten you with a picture. Brave souls, feel free to unearth one yourself.
Maybe that’s why I love the sun so much…

7) I am terrified of open heights.

I have no problem being in a plane, 15,000 feet above the ground. In fact, I prefer the window seat, and I love staring out the window and thinking about how high up I am. But open heights? Forget it. A visit to the Grand Canyon in the summer after 3rd grade resulting in my staying a good thirty feet away from the guardrail, shaking, unable to move, and convinced that the cliff-y thing we were on was just going to break off. In San Francisco, the Golden Gate Bridge freaked me out so much that I gripped the inner handrail the whole time, just sliding my hand along, resulting in disgustingly blackened palm. Even balconies in buildings, I can’t bring myself to look over the edge, I’m so convinced the barrier is just going to disintegrate and I will be plunged to my death on the tiles below. God, I hate open heights.

8) I am considering joining Facebook just for the groups.
I was pretty “anti-Facebook” for a while, convincing myself that it would just be another distraction for me when I am attempting to complete homework. Then a few days ago, my friend let me sign in under her name to see the guest list of a little shindig we are attending. I then discovered the groups. Oh my, the groups. They’re so addictive, it’s not even funny. I’ve already logged on several times as my friend and just browsed the groups for…a long time. Here are just some of the ones I’ve found so far:

Wonderfully [un]witty comments by me in bold

No, I haven’t read that literary classic—but I’ve seen the Wishbone!
Reading is sexy
No, I can’t hang out with you on July 21st, HOW DARE YOU ASK?
Because of Edward Cullen, human boys have lost their charm From Twilight
I can’t accept that fictional characters aren’t real This is so true it's not even funny
Everything I need to know about life I learned from star wars
People who know the difference between “you’re” and “your” I'm a Nazi when it comes to that
I read books because I actually want to
Basically, I’m in love with fictional men
Hello! My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die. PRINCESS BRIDE. GAHAHHA.
It’s ok, we all waited for our Hogwarts acceptance letters, too
Fuck this, I’m Going to Hogwarts
I Hate Everyone (Little Miss Sunshine appreciation club)
I Wish I Could Dance Like Dwayne Hoover
I’m a little bit in love with Jim Halpert
Eff you, society. I’m going into the wild.
I Went to Catholic School and was pissed when the CCD kids trashed my desk You will only get this if you went to Catholic school, I literally burst out laughing when I read this. Every Monday, it would be... "THE CCD KIDS STOLE MY RULER AGAIN!!!"
It’s my life goal to talk as cleverly as Juno MacGuff.
Stop Killing the Environment
I Get Weird looks when I go into public places in my school uniform On Ash Wednesday, I enjoy going around with my cross of ashes and my forehead and getting looks that clearly portray: Is she is some sort of cult?
Why, yes, I do frequently burst out in song
People Who raced raindrops on car windows as children
Automatic doors make me feel like a jedi I need to find a t-shirt with this
I have to sing the ABC’s to know which letter comes before the other
When I was your age, Pluto was a planet.
No, I don’t care if I die at 12 AM, I’m not passing on your chain letter.
You were hot until you put that cigarette in your mouth
Hippie Children Born in the wrong generation
I Look for good climbing trees rather than the opposite sex
All I Ever needed to know, I learned from Elizabeth Bennet.
I judge you when you use poor grammar.
Disney gave me unrealistic expectations about love
American by birth, Irish by blood.
Shut up, historians. Pocahontas and John Smith were soul-mates.
There’s NO WAY Pocahontas could have survived jumping off that cliff.
Fred Weasley, we salute you.
Is that an accent? Pardon me as I undress…
“Flight of the Concords” makes my world a brighter place
I can’t wait for Sufjan Stevens to make a CD about my state
I can’t stop listening to Regina Spektor
Holden Caulfield is my brilliantly sarcastic hero. [For the record, I couldn't finish that book, I disliked it quite a bit, but some might appreciate the group.]

And quite possibly the best one yet….

I read the group name, I laugh, I join, I never look at it again.


So now you know a bit more about the enigma that is I. Tell me some lusciously dishy (what an awful word!) secrets about yo’self! Since those were SO juicy. Bah.

Look for a Disney princess post in the coming days... God, to be six again!

listen: Somewhere Over the Rainbow by Jason Castro!

anna