Accomplishment #24: Tell Someone Your Darkest Secret (#90)

Okay, swear to God and cross your heart and kiss your elbow you won't tell anyone my deepest, darkest secret?



Promise?



Swear? Pinky swear?



Pfffft. Yeah, right. Like I'd tell the INTERNET my deepest, darkest secret. Except I don't really have one. I have a slight problem where if I know someone for 5 seconds I open my mouth and blather on and on, so I would make a terrible spy. I wish I could say that I did lead an exciting double life and I went on secret missions while wearing a leather cat suit and Shangri-La boots and a wig, but nope. My biggest secret was that once, in second grade, I used the Boys' Bathroom by mistake and Paul Phillips and some nasty fourth graders saw me and threatened to tell everyone about the disgraceful thing I had done unless I gave them the treat out of my lunch every day. I was so humiliated that I didn't confess to this until... well, I guess now, because I don't even remember at what point in my life I could think about it without blushing and feeling the shame. (I was probably about 30, though.) And it doesn't really come up in conversation, though I suspect those nasty former fourth graders are on facebook and I will be dumb enough to accept their requests and they will probably write, "KAREN PEED IN THE BOYS' BATHROOM" on my wall. (Well, better they write it on THAT wall instead of written it on the bathroom wall years ago.)

So since I don't have any real secrets (and if I do, I'm sure I'll tell you later anyway) I'll do the meme that's sweeping Flickr & the blogosphere: "16 Things You Don't Know About Me" or whatever. Problem is, you all DO know 16 things about me that might be vaguely interesting. I even asked Jon, the man with whom I have been living FOR YEARS, the man to whom I am ENGAGED TO MARRY, if he could think of anything interesting or mysterious about me, and he couldn't even come up with anything. "Ummm..." he said. "You like Queen and ELO?"

Thanks a lot. (That is true, though.)

So here goes:




1. I was born nearly 8 weeks premature. To paraphrase my favorite author, Dorothy Parker, "That was the last time I was early to anything." It's true, I am chronically late, and I attribute it to the fact that for every minute I was born early, I'm making up for it. But it's really because I am totally lame and probably have weird time/space continuum issues or a mental illness, which sounds more medical than being just flaky. I was also on 4 pounds at birth, and I have more than made up for that, too. Like by A LOT.

2. I am a total packrat and have too much STUFF. But every time I get rid of something, I find myself looking for it and then cursing myself for getting rid of it. I have a hard time throwing stuff away, because I become sentimentally attached. But I like being a packrat and keeping stuff -- I love my stuff. No one likes helping me move my stuff, though. Including me.

3. I had six wisdom teeth. I still have them, but just not in my mouth. (See? I have a hard time throwing stuff away.)

4. I worry incessantly. Now that the economy is so bad, I wonder what the hell I was worried about before, because things felt like a cakewalk then compared to now. But I've had worry lines in my forehead since 4th grade, which is why I've always had bangs. I have severe cowlicks -- two in front, and one in back. Which don't work so hot with the aforementioned bangs. I worry about that, too.

5. If I could have anything in the world, I would want magical powers like Samantha Stevens. I hate housework so if I could just twinkle my nose and abracadabra it's all done, my life would be fabulous.

6. I'm afraid that I am very shallow and immature. I was looking at a book catalog this morning, and there were all these books about history and current events, and like, totally smart and deep stuff? And the book that appealed to me most was a book about some girl going to college and losing her virginity or something. And then I read a celebrity blog and put on Cherry Jolly Rancher flavored Lip Smacker. I wonder what happened to me that my emotional and mental growth simply stunted at the age of 16. (And at 16, all I wanted to be was an adult. Go figure.)

7. I got the Beatles' autographs for Christmas from my sister. When she was little, the Beatles were in San Francisco for a concert around her birthday, and they were staying at the Fairmont Hotel. My dad was at a meeting at the Fairmont and knew the manager, and somehow he finagled getting their autographs for her (they brought up a card from the gift shop on a silver platter to their hotel room, complete with little fake Beatles on it) and brought them home, where she was having a Beatles themed birthday party. "I ran into some friends who wanted to give this to you," he said. She opened the card and screamed. The card was framed and hung in my room when I was growing up, but she took them back and I always joked with her to leave them for me in her will. But she gave them to me this Christmas, and I cried. I don't care how much they're worth; they're family history and therefore priceless. (Except I would TOTALLY go on Antiques Roadshow with them.)

8. I have a bachelor's degree in English and an MFA in creative writing, but I wouldn't know a dangling participle if it hit me in the face. My grammar is terrible, and my typing is even worse. But I am signing up for a grammar and copy editing class to remedy this, though I'm pretty much stuck with being a bad typist forever.

9. Despite my terrible grammar and lack of typing skills, I have written a novel. I did it during NaNoWriMo when I was unemployed a few years ago. It's a Young Adult Novel. It has a beginning, middle and end and chapters and everything. It's still on a zip disk and I'm too scared to submit it anywhere -- I took it to a workshop once, full of hope and sincerity. The first chapter was brutally massacred to the point where after I left that group of people, I sat in my car and sobbed for an hour before I could go home. It scares me to even think about looking at it or sending it anywhere, and makes me feel defeated and I can't shake it. So even though I have an MFA in CREATIVE WRITING, I still don't feel that I will ever be a writer. (And clearly I have a little, um, self esteem/ fear of failure or success issue going here. Sigh.)


10. I am a Universal Life Church minister. Thanks to a click of a mouse, I can marry my friends, and have performed six weddings, and I am happy to announce all the couples are still together (and legitimately married). I need to send away for my special parking placard. I am also available to do exorcisms.


11. I knew JT Leroy was a fraud before most people did. Just ask my friend Leslie, because I told her that ALL THE TIME. (Sorry, Leslie.)

12. I love my boyfriend, friends and family more than anything in the world. And Norman the cat, even though I didn't think I could love him after losing my sweet kitty BeBe in June.

13. I don't drink coffee, except on rare occasions I drink cinnamon dolce lattes from Starbucks. (I know, I know, Starbucks is bad and all that, but even though I tend to feel guilty about everything else on the planet, I'm not going to feel guilty for drinking a few coffees from Starbucks.) I think not drinking coffee also makes me feel more immature -- it's such an "adult beverage." Instead I drink Diet Coke for caffeine addiction.

14. Speaking of addiction, I am addicted to LOST. It is the best TV show EVER, and I am eagerly awaiting the premiere of the new season to start -- that and Mad Men, my other favorite show. (I love The Office, too.) And our friends Carlos and Irene got us hooked on Buffy and Angel, which also RULE.

15. I started my blog because I was feeling bogged down by inertia and laziness, and as I told you before, I'm a worrier. So I was worrying that I wasn't writing, that life was passing me by, and that I wasn't DOING anything so I started this blog. And it's been a really, really good thing. I've found myself actually doing things that I never would have done, and thinking and planning things to do. I haven't gone too far out of my comfort zone yet, but just these little things make me feel so good and so much more motivated than I've been lately. But I am out of my comfort zone -- I'm actually writing, and writing PUBLICLY. The terror and thrill and greatness of it makes me feel so good. If that feeling could be bottled, I'd be drunk with it. And all of you reading this -- I thank you from the deepest, darkest bottom of my heart. It means the world to me, and your comments make me feel like a million bucks. So my blog, Flickr, reuniting with old friends on Facebook, Norman and Drunk Yoda were the best things that happened to me in 2008. (And not getting any speeding tickets.) Actually, there were many good things that happened in 2008, even though it felt like a bad year. There are always good things that happen during every year, even when things seem simply AWFUL. I am a very lucky, and very blessed person and I know it, except when I get stuck in traffic.

16. Sixteen is my favorite number.

Okay, you guys, like don't tell anyone, 'k? Shhhhh!!!!


And yes, I have a sweater that matches my blog. Dork.

Twenty-four down, 73 to go.