I'm sick of winter. I lasted til January. Now I'm ready for sun. Still getting back in shape, though.
My mom once said that once you pass 18, you don't lose weight, you beat it off with a stick. True story. But my legs are coming back. I can feel them. The muscles are there, and soon, my legs will be nice again. I'm excited. I have no less than 25 ridiculously short skirts waiting to be worn. Including two that resemble ballet tutus.
Today I'll do my rambling autobiography, for today at least. The point is to write a rambling autobiography. Tons of mini-stories in one. Rambling. Random. Somewhat disorganized.
MY RAMBLING AUTOBIOGRAPHY
My feet haven't grown since my bat mitzvah. I have the shoes I was bat mitzvahed in. I still wear them out sometimes. 10 years later.
I have a running shoe menorah. I think it's the most incredible thing in the world, and it's easily the coolest gift I've ever received. Some people think it's unclassy and unjewish. Those people should be covered with peanut butter, dipped in bird seed, and hung out to dry in Dam Square in Amsterdam for all the sickly pigeons to snack on.
I have disturbingly diverse taste in music. In my mind, Britney Spears, Enya, Ani Difranco, NeYo and AC/DC belong on the same mix cd.
In middle school, I had the Backstreet Boys' heights marked off on my door with masking tape.
I am completely baffled by homophobia and people who are against gay marriage. I don't understand what the big deal is. If you don't believe in gay marriage, then don't get one. I don't believe in Jesus, but you don't see me protesting outside churches and wearing mean t-shirts, do you?
I think I made myself allergic to mushrooms.
For 11 years, I ate, slept, and breathed ballet - I wanted to spend my life dancing. I quit ten seconds after hearing my mother on the phone saying I wasn't as thin as the other girls.
Embarrassingly, my parents are much cooler than I am.
When we lived in Texas, my mom used to work out with Chuck Norris.
I once lived in an 11th-century castle in Holland with moats and peacocks.
I traveled all over Europe, but in almost every country, I went to H&M. My brother thinks this means I no longer have the right to make fun of him for eating McDonalds instead of local cuisine when we're traveling, but I think it's completely different.
I'm writing a book on my approach to teaching writing, because all the guides I've been given have something missing, somehow. If you read this, and you have something I should put in my book, please tell me.
I can never find jewelry to match what I wear, so I keep several hundred beads on hand and make my own. No one knows the difference.
When I planned this lesson on rambling autobiographies, the part that excited me the most was the hope that (my co-teacher) would write one.
One of the campers I taught to swim died last week, from complications due to Epilepsy, the seizure disorder. When I heard, I was watching a TV special on a woman who was 115 years old, and all I could think was, how is it fair that an 11-year-old boy has to die when she gets to live?
As a child, I had a friend with one of those wide, wonderful, toothy smiles, and when she wore lipstick for ballet recitals, it lit up her face. This led me to believe that the lipstick made her smile look like that, rather than the actual act of smiling. As a result, I am not smiling in dozens of pictures taken of me that year.
I have survived scarlett fever, anorexia, shin splints and (name omitted).
I once had to sing for spare change on a streetcorner in Berlin.
My brother is a high-functioning autistic, and as a child, sometimes I resented him for it. This is unforgiveable because the cruelty of it defies logic, and because he never held it against me.
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