So, apparently the rules of this game are:
- Link to your original tagger(s) and list these rules in your post.
- Share seven facts about yourself in the post.
- Tag seven people at the end of your post by leaving their names and the links to their blogs.
- Let them know they’ve been tagged.
I was tempted to fabricate a variety of lunatic claims here, but I am seized with a fit of frank honestly for some reason. And I save most of my short-burst lunacy for Twitter these days, which is a true statement but because I am feeling charitable will not count against my total.
So my seven facts (microanecdotes?) are:
- I used to have a terrible, crushing fear of public speaking. Late in high school, though, I realized all of a sudden (though I wouldn’t have the words to describe what I’d realized until much later) that being embarassed in public is exactly like being bullied in public, and the only way out from under that is to push back. Since then I’ve been told more than once that perhaps I have pushed a bit (and often a lot) too far but, hey, it beats putting random strangers in charge of how you feel and living in fear.
- Like beltzner I have a movie credit, though doesn’t appear in IMDB. It was a small indie horror film by Mark Zanin, in which I am credited as “Zombie #1”.
- I shaved my goatee for my wedding, which I didn’t particularly like, even though my wife and parents did. I had an earring then as well, which I took out the night before the wedding and haven’t put back.
- I am about three-quarters of the way to three different degrees (English Literature, Math and Computer Science) from three different universities, and am working ever so slowly on finishing one of them up at a fourth. I hope to graduate from some University somewhere before futurekid gets out of kindergarten.
- At the apartment we lived in just before buying our house, we had a mouse problem, including mice running around in the drop ceiling over our bed. We deployed some effective but pretty shockingly cruel sticky-traps to try to deal with the problem, but my wife was so upset by the thrashing of the mice in the traps that she insisted I set them free. Which you can only do, it turns out, by using oil as a solvent. So I have spent several nights of my life standing in a dark alley in my pajamas, in the snow, pouring cooking oil on stuck, terrified and doubtless also very confused, mice. Most of them on being finally freed would run about two meters, turn around and look back at me with what I assumed to be the mousy equivalent of a frightened what-the-hell-just-happened-here expression before taking off, and I can’t say that I felt all that different.
- If I go to bed before 1:00 AM or so, I inevitably I wake up between three and four in the morning for no reason I can discern. I can usually get to bed again after half an hour or so, but not always; I haven’t slept through the night without substantial chemical assistance in something like fifteen years.
- I once owned a pristine copy of Secret Wars #8, in which Spider-man gets his iconic black-and-white outfit. I sold it for quarters, which promptly went towards a few games of Tiger Road at the local corner store. I used to regret that decision, but it turns out you can get the whole set now in hardcover, but I doubt I’ll ever play Tiger Road again, so who knows?
(Confidential, from Pierre to Gaston: If you’re going to hide the fact that you’ve got a blogue, make the URL less guessable, mon ami!)