I generally resist the whole "meme" thing, because I already tend to be way too fascinated and delighted by myself. And frankly, this isn't my way of bragging. I like to get people to feel like they have dragged the self-congratulations out of me. But this is at least the third time friend Karen has gone to the trouble to meme me - such trouble as it is - and it seems unfriendly to keep ignoring the invitations. (I am not sure I have eight blogging friends of such intimacy that I might spread the meme to, however. Maybe they'll come to me.)
Meme Rules: Each tagged person must post 8 random facts or habits about themselves on their blog. At the end of the post, choose 8 people to be tagged and list their names. Don't forget to leave a comment telling them that they are tagged and to read your blog. Have fun!
1. I wrote my first play in the fourth grade. It was a ten minute monologue of Napoleon Bonaparte that I recited with the fully nuanced accent that I appropriated from Maurice Chevalier in Gigi.
2. I am pathologically incapable of being late. Even when I try to be fashionably late, I end up getting there five minutes ahead. I once got to an airport so early that they wouldn't check me in because, you know, I was there too early.
3. I have the corresponding twisted masochistic pathology that draws me to make friends of people who are pathologically incapable of being on time. I will surely spend all the minutes in purgatury that I have already lost in seething indignation while I waited in restaurants and on street corners thinking to myself, "I could have been here at 9:18am. And that would have been fine. But we said 9am! Didn't we?!!?"
4. I have been obsessed with the Battle of Gettysburg for about a decade now. I watch the movie several times a year, befriended the movie's director, have read about fifteen Gettysburg books, have spent hours pouring over every inch of every photo in my favorite book "The Gettysburg Battlefield", have been planning a visit to the battlefield for years, and intend to name my next cat "Buford" for the guy who saved the high ground and, indisputably, the Union. My father says my grandfather Nicolosi has the same obsession. I think that is comforting in a weird way.
5. It isn't home for me until there is an aquarium. Even when I was a nun and couldn't dispose of any material goods, I found ways - without any mental reservations or remorse of conscience - to finagle donors or superiors into financing ten gallon tanks. Something about the process of slowly killing little exotic fish just lets me settle interiorly.
6. Probably the writer who most influenced me growing up was Taylor Caldwell. I've read her life of Cicero A Pillar of Iron probably ten times.
7. I don't like the different foods on my plate to touch each other, and then, I only eat one at a time. I got corrected for this many times when I was in the convent, until finally my superiors gave up, deciding I was either mortificationally intransigent or nutritionally demented.
8. When I was ten years old, I said these prayers every day for a year. When my older sister told me that I hadn't actually completed a year because I had stopped on the last day of the 365 day year, I was so perplexed I said the prayers for another year, and added on an extra week at the end just in case. I still can't believe I had the self-mastery and faith to do this as a child. I feel sure the merits of those prayers account for all the blessings that I have received in my schleppy adulthood.
Okay, Karen. I hope that was worth it to you. I hereby meme anyone reading this blog who wants to do this exercise.
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