Tuesday, October 27, 2009


[I have thirteen minutes until French class.
Sadly, Mr. C. did not get out of his class early.
Which means I don't get to see him for SIXTY-THREE minutes.
Life is hard, huh?]

Today, as I dumped out my old water in the water fountain in order to get some new water, I realized I looked weird. I also realized that I did not care. I hate day-old water.

Then I realized that I am quirky.
Meaning, I have quirks.
Fairly funny and/or weird ones.

Don't believe me?

Story A: When I was in sixth grade, I insisted that my mother make me mid-calf length skirts. Being a good mother, she caved. For one of my skirts, I picked out bright blue fabric with- are you ready?- happy faces all over it. My mom asked me if I was sure that was what I wanted. YES. It was. She made my skirt, and I wore it almost every day. I am not lying.

Story B: The first time Mr. C. said "I love you" I did not reply. He told me that was okay. I buried my face in his arm. Five million silent eternities later, I whispered "I love you, too." And then what did I do? I pushed him off the couch.

Story C: I have to write on my hands every single day. Not just a quick line, but usually, my entire hand is covered with fountain blue or pink or black ink. Sometimes, it makes it's way to my face. And ONCE, I had it all over my upper lip for hours. No one told me. Not even when I handed back papers for a class that I graded the papers for. That was last semester.

Story D: I've heard that the best things come in threes, so there is no Story D.

Hope you have a fabulously quirky day.