Life

I took a free improv class last night, and we started by playing a name game. You say your name, the name of an animal with the same first letter, and make a motion or sound like the animal. Then the group repeats what you did.  For example, I was Jason Jackrabbit and nibbled on a carrot.

A woman named Laura went and said “I’m Laura the Leper.” Then she mimed walking uncertainly with her hands in mid air.  I laughed and thought, “Wow, that’s cold.”

It wasn’t until I heard her a few more times that I realized she was Laura the Leopard. Oops.

It was interesting how the animals people chose were somewhat reflective of their personalities. Michael the Mouse was on the quiet side. I’m a little timid, like a Jack Rabbit. And Phil the Phoenix spontaneously combusted mid-way through class, and then reappeared wearing a new pair of shoes, so that was appropriate.

I have a supposition. Every person has at least one quirk about them that almost no one else has.

Here is one of mine. I’ve only told a few people this before. I’m not embarrassed by it, it’s just one of things that will never come up naturally in conversation, and it’s such a small part of my life I haven’t been motivated in the past to share it.

To keep my mind occupied when I’m sitting in traffic, I will sometimes pick a license plate and assign a numerical value to all the letters (A=1, B=2, C=3…). Then I’ll try to add and subtract the numbers in a way so the total equals zero. If I can get to zero, I win.

BHG 337 would be B(2)H(8)G(7) 337. So:

287 337

8+7 (15) – (7+3 +3 +2) = 15 – 15 = 0. Yay! I solved the example I made up.

If there is someone who came up with the same game, he better not look like me or I’m going to have to ask my Mom\the scientist who raised me from a petri dish  some very pointed questions.  I have a few similar quirks like this involving basic math and pattern recognition, one of which I started as a kid.

So help prove me right. What’s a quirk you have that you think almost no one shares? I almost never beg for comments, but I’m really interested to see what hidden quirks other people have. Don’t be shy and leave a comment below.

I leave notes for my clients after I walk their dogs. The first note today, I was blanking on today’s date. “Twenty-something…29? 30?” I took my cell phone out. “The 30th!”

Which is my birthday. I pray for the day that robots uprise against their human masters. I’m tired of forgetting stuff. When Google’s Android v12 phone sprouts legs and a pair of pincer clamps, I’m going to be standing on my door step with a sandwich board that says “Assimilate Me!” on one side and “01001110101001010100010110010 01001010!” on the other. Having a hard drive for a brain would be awesome. You could remember what you want, forget what you don’t want, and instead of dreaming, you could just run DiskCleaner before returning to your energy pod. And with luck, we can get those red lasers on the sides of our heads like the Borg have, although not exactly like the Borg, because if you watch the way their lasers randomly loop around the floor and walls, I think a lot of them have lazy laser.

I used to not tell people it was my birthday, but now I’m glad people know. I’m very lucky to have had lots of people show that they are thinking of me, in ways both big and small. I wish I could capture the feeling that people care about me and hold it in my heart a little longer.

On another note, I’m going to be participating in NaBloPoMo–the month after. During National Blog Posting Month, you commit to making a blog post every month for the day in November. And I’m going to do it! The month after.  I was inspired by lacochran, who successfully completed NaBloPoMo, the Original Version.

NaBloPoMoExtraMo starts tomorrow!

On Fresh Air today, Michael Chabon was telling a story about how he got started carrying around a purse. I forget his exact phrasing, but he was talking about how the hardest part was removing his wallet from his pocket and carrying it around in the purse. How for men, a wallet is like part of their souls and not having his wallet on his body made him uncomfortable.

I didn’t realize until he said that, but I feel a similar way about my wallet. I feel vulnerable when I take my wallet out of my pocket for more than a few seconds, like something will happen to it after prolonged exposure to air.  In 7-11 today, and I do this all the time, I took my wallet out, handed the cashier a $20, put the wallet back in my pocket, and then took it out 10 seconds later when she gave me my change.

It’s an automatic behavior I’m not aware of in the moment. I feel silly every time I do it, but it happens more often than not.

Are you protective in a similar way about your wallet or purse?

I was reading in the Shirlington library when I noticed two little girls, about age six, looking and whispering at me. I checked my shirt for ketchup stains–children become vicious after age five and a half. One of the girls whispers, “Ask him” to her friend, and her friend comes up to me.

“Hi. Do you like Kid Rock?”

Either through instinct or hard-learned habits, parents often pause a few seconds before answering questions from kids. They roll the question over in their heads, unfolding it for different meanings and potential pitfalls. “Does she know who Kid Rock is? Is she asking about Kid Rock, the musician, or rock for kids?”

I am not a parent.

“Nope.” I said. “Kid Rock sucks.”

She looked crestfallen. I instantly felt like a jerk, and tried to change the subject.

“Is that Kid Rock on your shirt?”

Her face brightened. “Yes!”

Her shirt had the faces of four musicians, each in their own quadrant. She pointed to someone that looked like Mark Wahlberg. “That’s Kid Rock. And that’s a Jonas Brother. And that’s another Jonas Brother. And that’s the girl, who…she…”

Her friend chimed in. “That’s the girl who sings!”

“Yeah, that’s the girl who sings.”

“Well,” I said, “that’s a very nice shirt.”

Her and her friend had already moved on. They showed me two DVDs they picked off the shelf, Spider-Man 2 and a cartoon I couldn’t identify. “Which one do you like better?”

Although Spider Man 2 sucked, I had learned my lesson. “Spider Man 2. I like Spider Man 2.”

“Oh my God!” one of the girls squealed in mock horror. “You like that movie?”

Sheesh. Everyone’s a critic.

One of the girls wandered off, and the other handed me a picture book and asked me to read it to her. It was at this time I scanned the room for adults who looked like delinquent parents. “Sure, I’ll read you a book” I said, while waving to an exhausted woman slumped in a couch. “Is this one yours?” I mouthed. She didn’t make eye contact. Smart parent.

I gave up and started reading the story. I got through a page (10 words) before she wanted to read the story aloud herself. Which would have been fine, except that I guess at age six you’re still illiterate because she was hitting one out of three words tops. I helped her along, and I don’t remember clearly what happened after we finished the story. Either she ran off to get another book and I snuck away, or she ran off to get another book and her Mom figured half an hour of not knowing where her kid is was enough hands-off parenting for one day.

Which one is more horrible?

(two women riding bicycles)

WOMAN1: “What a douche bag.”
WOMAN2: “What?”
WOMAN1: “Not you.”