1. Leave a casual comment of no particular significance on this post, like a lyric to your current favorite song, your favorite jelly bean flavor, or maybe your favorite game. Any remark, meaningless or not. Personally, I'd prefer something inane or an in-joke. Your call.
2. I will respond by asking you five personal questions. If you don't have a blog, I'll ask them here, and I suppose you'll have to answer here, or you can write them in chalk on the wall outside of your neighborhood Wal-Mart or something. As you will.
3. Update your blog with the answers to the questions. (Or the wall by your Wal-Mart)
4. Include this explanation and offer to ask someone else in your own post. (Or don't, but Phan Ku will eat you then. Just saying.)
5. When others respond with a desultory comment, you will ask them five questions. And doesn't desultory sound somewhat dirty? Or insulting? It sounds bad. Bascially, other people will say stuff and then you have to ask them questions, and this thing just goes on forever in a loop.
Meme Q&A (These come from Miss Mary H) (She is also guilty for all the odd Phan Ku and Gay Neck references. It's our personal side affect of having to teach 7th grade LA/reading together for a year.):
Two words: Built-in babysitter.
I didn't mind that so much as the fact that everything was my fault. If the little one looked at you, grinned, then stuck their finger DELIBERATELY in the light socket, the adult would come in, say, "What happened," and the little one would point at you, and there was no hope of defense. You were bigger. It was your fault. I was always responsible.
There's also the thing where everything you tried to do first was ABSOLUTELY NOT and you needed a suit of armor and an armed guard to leave the house, but by the time #4 hit, she could pratically drink and smoke at the kitchen table and they'd offer her a refill and a light.
Do you know, it's bad for clothes and knees, but I actually would be lost without my height. I use it more than I know. It impresses everybody. Plus, people literally look up to me. Not to mention the fact that the blog title would be weird otherwise.
Hate my legs--well, I like having them, but the varicose veins and bizarre tendency towards heinous bruising could go and I would not miss it at all.
Yes. I think, though, that it's more of a way-station, or home base. I think if we're going to have individual consciousness and a sense of separation from the One, then we have to break away, and a part of doing that is having a yearning to return, which is what gets us to move. I think you can do a hell of a lot of exploring on that wavelength, but I think in the end that heaven or a heaven-like place is where we rest and have tea and look up at the big Us in the center and say WOW!!!! and then we want to feed it more stuff, and see what we look like in different clothes, and we either forget how much it hurts, or we decide it's worth it, and we go do it again in different ways and in different places and different dimensions.
Absolutely. Gay-Neck all the way.
Dunno. I did enjoy the first Princess Diaries book. Probably I should just stick with Gay-Neck.
I really wish I were handy, like with wood and pipes and things that break. Cars, too. I'm just not. My brain refuses to process the information beyond simple survival. But I think it would be so, so cool to MAKE myself a desk or a bookshelf, with the decorative finishes and all. I love watching The New Yankee Workshop on PBS and pretending I am making the project with them. Weird, but there you are.