My Uninvited Inheritance

Recently I have returned to my ancestral homestead, much to my chagrin. Consequently I have been spending copious amounts of time with my mother and father. Normally, I would see them once a month; occasionally talking on the phone or texting (I have rebuffed both on Facebook, multiple times). I haven’t lived at home, on the regular, since I was 17. I am simply unused to residing with people I share DNA with. As you might imagine when I was 17 I was a reasonable, level-headed, pliable person (Read: bitchy, annoying teen). Occasionally, my parents, in an effort to stifle my soul-song, provoked me into stimulating if base discussions (ie: Nu-uh!).

Slightly older, I have developed a more mature relationship with my parental units. True, since returning on a more permanent basis my hair has fallen out in clumps and I’ve had to purchase a mouth guard to stop myself grinding my teeth to a fine powder in my sleep. Also I seem to have developed a strange allergy to my parents’ house. 15 minutes after crossing the threshold I’m a sneezing, hay-fever-y mess. Psychosomatic you say? Perhaps. But, perceived or fully real stress symptoms aside, my time at home has helped me become more observant.

I am slowly perfecting the art of keeping my mouth shut as a means of avoiding arguments. So, so slowly. This keeping my trap plugged is why I’ve become a veritable Harriet the Spy. One thing I have noticed is that that my parents are tragically and utterly unintentionally irritating. Now, most children will contend that their creators are “like just so lame!” but I am now able to pinpoint exactly why I’ll require dentures, and therapy, by the time I’m 30. I’m sure I’ll detail the peccadilloes in later posts, but suffice it to say there are many (My mother incessantly twirls her hair and tucks the twirled locks behind her ear. To save it for later?).

In any case, the truly frightening result of my scrutiny is of course the inevitability that I am turning into them. Wholly. Gestures, turns of phrase, annoying habits, the lot. Turning my keen eyes inward I can perceive the ways I’m a total aggravating git. But I’m choosing to blame my parents. Watching their antics has infected my psyche! Is there any way to break the cycle of intolerable annoyance? If one day I produce progeny how will I keep from destroying their personalities by passing down terrible traits they inherited from my line of the family?!

Swiss boarding school it is.

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What I'm Listening to:    Last Night at the Jetty By Panda Bear

Hair Confidence

For many women it is important to appear confident and collected. One way to achieve this certainty is to have a bitchin' haircut. Others still use their hair as a shield, pushing their unruly bangs into their eyes to avoid conversation. As you might have surmised, I lack hair confidence. My hair usually ends up shaped like a lampshade despite the effort I put into it. The bottom layers are curly and the top layers swoosh slightly. It will neither fully straighten nor fully curl. The result is that my head usually looks: blah. Thankfully some kind soul invented the ponytail.

Since late 2009 my hair has been even weirder than normal. You see at one time I suffered from some supreme malarkey known as mononucleosis. In addition to throwing up everywhere, engorging my liver, and losing 10 lbs.; my hair decided to fall out. Apparently the shock to my immune system informed my hair follicles they were no longer needed. Great clumps of hair came out in the shower or whenever I sneezed. At one point I considered rocking the Natalie Portman hair circa V for Vendetta. Fortunately the universe smiled on me and my hair, slowly, oh so slowly, began to grow again. Since that time I've been a teensy bit terrified of flat irons and hair dryers. I don't want the precious strands to break and abandon me like they did that summer.

I might never achieve hair confidence but at least female pattern baldness doesn't run in the family.

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What I'm listening to: Haircuts by Heart Shaped Hate

Interviewed By a Vampire

Interviews make me slightly unhinged. Now normally I am a pillar of poise and charm. However, interviews make me speak 150 words per minute, shake slightly, and sweat. I'm sure it appears I would like to get hired to pay for a meth addiction. This stems from a basic problem: I'm not cool and I don't know how to fake it. Every single time I attempt to be suave the universe kicks me in the keester and I end up falling on my face. Or down a flight of stairs. Or up a flight of stairs. I don't have a way to convey to an employer that I am not a total dinkus but in fact a functioning member of society. And not to malign any of my future employers but I neither enjoy listing my weaknesses or strengths. Unless it's in blog format of course.

How (Not) to Make Friends: An Idiot's Guide

Given my propensity for strangeness I have made a shocking number of friends in my short years. Sometimes when I talk I'm wondering in my head how I managed to keep any chums at all. Once in an while I'll see my comrades exchanging exasperated glances as if to say "You know we could sneak out that back while Anneke's in the bathroom." In any case, I've managed to keep a vice-like grip on my friends and they continue to text me. But, coming from an awkward expert, here are some helpful hints for you friend-seekers. 

Try as hard as possible not to vomit in front of potential friends. I have thrown up twice in front of acquaintances, so I know from experience that it is awful. Once I was at the gay pride parade and threw up all over the outer wall of Wrigley Field. Also, another tip, refrain from shouting "don't look at me for God's sake!" because not only will your friends swivel around so will 600 men clad in glitter and booty shorts. It's hard to look your friends in the eye after you've sullied an American landmark. In another instance I made the poor choice of drinking beer followed by a Wendy's frosty. I was hanging out new cohort, driving around looking for something to do. I put slight damper on the evening by up-chucking in my right hand. My left hand was frantically searching for the car handle, to no avail. I threw up all over my new buddy's grand am. In conclusion, vomit is not a friend maker. 

Something else to avoid, although it rarely stops me, is making a joke. When surrounded by a strange new group of people I am often tempted to tell hilarious jokes. More specifically jokes that only I find funny. My favorite is making puns! Most people do not appreciate this and they appreciate it less if you keep telling the joke. Puns are the highest form of humor and should only be shared with the inner circle of companions. 

Finally, when all else fails, hide the crazy. Although it's important to be yourself it's also nice to have friends so pretend to be normal for as long as possible. Resist the urge to show off your dance skills inside Wal-Mart. Don't tell your new friends you only listen to ska. Hide the crazy until your friendship is so established no amount of doing the robot in the produce isle will make them run from you. 

Follow these simple tips and you'll soon have as many friends as Mark Zuckerburg! Or at least you'll have someone to hang out with while watching those awesome Wings marathons on Hallmark. 

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What I'm listening to: Cut Copy "Take Me Over" 

Movie Idea

Do you think if I decided not cook any of Julia Child's recipes for the next 365 days they would turn it into a book then a movie? I'd watch that movie.

Spooked

Sometimes when I wear my hair down I see it out of the corner of my eye and I think it's a ghost.

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Awkward Silences

Bumbling Beginnings

Like long silences, coffee with an ex, and dry heaving; I too am very awkward. My pursuits include falling up staircases, saying the exact wrong thing, and cracking unfunny jokes in large groups of people. I believe the time is right to begin chronicling my foibles for the amusement of the internet.

I don't exactly understand (read: not at all) the technology part of blogging so it might be a while before I embed videos or do something snazzy. But if you're reading this there's a fair chance you know me personally and understand my ability to melt technology with the touch of my hand. I'm sure I'll work it out eventually.

As soon as my parents return my camcorder I will undoubtedly post some awkward clips. 

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What I'm Reading: Star of the Sea by Joseph O'Connor