I said I would...

Stella said it was my turn and I said okay. (Sort of related tidbit: when I was growing up my family held sacred the words "I promise." Do you know how comforting it is as a kid, when you have something that holds such power - as in "Do you promise you didn't take my Kewpie doll?" - and you can trust the individual using it without question?)

A MeMe, wherein I am required to finish a bunch of sentences...

I am 5'5 and 5/8" and about 20 pounds over what I want to be. The former has bugged me my whole life, the latter has crippled me for the last year.

I want coffee. We're out of filters.

I wish people I love and that are close to me wouldn't be critical of their weight, because this makes me question my relatively relaxed feeling about my own body.

I hate Wal-Mart. But Target is my boyfriend.

I miss Portland. It's a gorgeous city. When we lived there my oldest brother and his family lived around the corner from us and we had insta-friends and entertainment. I also miss that. I also miss a green sweater I had in college with a #16 sewn on the upper left shoulder.

I fear that I will blink and suddenly be old. Oh, it's happening already...

I hear Madeleine practicing trilling her r's. Does it sound cute? It's really irritating.

I wonder if I want to move because I'm bored with the life I've created for myself.

I regret writing that last sentence. I don't want to give legs to that thought. No! I love my life! It's the awesomest best life ever to be created by me!

I am not good at saying goodbye or expressing sympathy or being a gracious loser.

I dance dirty. As if I'm on MTV's The Grind. It's the only way I know how.

I sing constantly, all the time and always. And loudly.

I cry when I hear about bad things happening to children. Mitch's post about her dead tadpole made me cry a little. I also cry when I'm angry and it's so humiliating.

I am not always happy, but who is? I don't want to know those people. And I have a hard time telling people that I'm not happy. Because I don't always want to be cheered up either.

I make relatively little noise. Except for the singing, we have a very quiet house. I also make really good coffee cake and chocolate crinkle cookies.

I write less than I want to. I think I have potential but am a little afraid to test this theory.

I confuse boredom with hunger.

I need to be motivated by competition. If there were a writing contest in town, I would crack my knuckles and get after it. I know, this is wrong in so many ways.

I should not say 'should.' The word pisses me off and instantly makes me do the opposite. If the word enters my mind, I feel like growling.

I start very few new projects, because...

I finish almost everything I start and I don't want to start something that will be too hard to finish. Like this thing. It was a lot harder than it looks. And I even did a half-assed job.