Exploring me and who I am...
Deciding why a person has certain likes and dislikes is really tricky.
I have this newfound love of mints. The other day I found some of those round pink ones that dissolve into a wonderful minty powder in your mouth when you crunch down on them and I was in seventh heaven. Seriously. I thought I would die of happiness. And then I thought, Dear God, they're mints. No person in her right mind should be that in love with mints. But I am and I can't say why.
White sport socks. You all know about my obsession with white sport socks. I can't go into WalMart without buying white sport socks. I probably have over fifty pairs, and they won't fit into my sock drawer so they are strewn about my bedroom. Initially, I tried keeping them in a neat and tidy pile, but that went out the window and so socks are strewn about like clothing on the set of a porn flick, as I like to say.
I hate feet. Feet are icky. I don't even really like my own feet. The other day my roommate left a pair of her shoes in my bedroom and I had to pick them up and carry them out and I was horrified that my hands were touching the place where she had kept her feet all night.
Money is another thing that I have trouble with and Lord knows I can't tell you why. I've turned down a few dates lately based on money. I hate even the mention of it. Mentioning anything related to money on the first date, or even for several subsequent dates, is beyond hideous in my books. Mention of money has me heading for the hills faster than you can say "Would you like some Grey Poupon?" Seriously. It makes me flee.
So.
My roomie and I were exploring this today: Why is it that a person with an excess of money totally turns me off? She thinks I'm crazy, of course, because it's silly to not want to date someone who has money. Because, if I never date someone who has money, I'll never marry someone who has money... and who doesn't want to marry someone who has money?
Apparently only crazy people don't want to marry someone who has money.
We also explored the fact that at one point in my life, I was wildly in love with a certified millionaire. The cars, the clothes, the lifestyle... it was all so foreign to me. His father had a very prominent job and from that it's not hard to guess that someone has some pretty decent coin laying around. Perhaps I only ever loved him because I knew I'd never have him, and so money never had a chance to come into it; perhaps it was his blue eyes and his accent; perhaps it was because he said things like "Your soul is beautiful": Who knows why money was never an issue with him?
What's even more wierd are my dreams of having money. Because I lay around and think all the time of the things I'd do with all the money in the world. I dream about the people I'd give it to. I think about the Berry Queen and all her Berry Babies and the opportunities they could have with a few extra bucks. I think of my nephew and my neice and the Tommy Hilfiger wardrobes they would have. My mom really wants a Mercedes station wagon, LOL. And she'd have one. I think of all the ridiculous hunting gear and toys I would buy my dad.
So for someone who spends so much time thinking about money, it's really odd that I avoid money on the basis of not liking it.
Sometimes you realize things about yourself that you can't pinpoint, and that you don't understand. And this big ol' world is full of things that I don't understand. Hell, my own self is something I occasionally don't understand. (Keeping in mind here that I never fully understood the Protractor and I still managed to become a fulfilled person, so maybe understanding isn't the basis of everything in the Free World.)
This is just one of those things about myself that I either need to make a concerted effort to change, or make a concerted effort to accept. Which makes the next decision deciding which of those two I'll be doing.
Well, in reality I'll probably be Napping, eating Mints, and organizing my sport socks, but in my spare time I'm sure I'll scrounge up some brain cells to devote to personal reflection.
Toonses
I have this newfound love of mints. The other day I found some of those round pink ones that dissolve into a wonderful minty powder in your mouth when you crunch down on them and I was in seventh heaven. Seriously. I thought I would die of happiness. And then I thought, Dear God, they're mints. No person in her right mind should be that in love with mints. But I am and I can't say why.
White sport socks. You all know about my obsession with white sport socks. I can't go into WalMart without buying white sport socks. I probably have over fifty pairs, and they won't fit into my sock drawer so they are strewn about my bedroom. Initially, I tried keeping them in a neat and tidy pile, but that went out the window and so socks are strewn about like clothing on the set of a porn flick, as I like to say.
I hate feet. Feet are icky. I don't even really like my own feet. The other day my roommate left a pair of her shoes in my bedroom and I had to pick them up and carry them out and I was horrified that my hands were touching the place where she had kept her feet all night.
Money is another thing that I have trouble with and Lord knows I can't tell you why. I've turned down a few dates lately based on money. I hate even the mention of it. Mentioning anything related to money on the first date, or even for several subsequent dates, is beyond hideous in my books. Mention of money has me heading for the hills faster than you can say "Would you like some Grey Poupon?" Seriously. It makes me flee.
So.
My roomie and I were exploring this today: Why is it that a person with an excess of money totally turns me off? She thinks I'm crazy, of course, because it's silly to not want to date someone who has money. Because, if I never date someone who has money, I'll never marry someone who has money... and who doesn't want to marry someone who has money?
Apparently only crazy people don't want to marry someone who has money.
We also explored the fact that at one point in my life, I was wildly in love with a certified millionaire. The cars, the clothes, the lifestyle... it was all so foreign to me. His father had a very prominent job and from that it's not hard to guess that someone has some pretty decent coin laying around. Perhaps I only ever loved him because I knew I'd never have him, and so money never had a chance to come into it; perhaps it was his blue eyes and his accent; perhaps it was because he said things like "Your soul is beautiful": Who knows why money was never an issue with him?
What's even more wierd are my dreams of having money. Because I lay around and think all the time of the things I'd do with all the money in the world. I dream about the people I'd give it to. I think about the Berry Queen and all her Berry Babies and the opportunities they could have with a few extra bucks. I think of my nephew and my neice and the Tommy Hilfiger wardrobes they would have. My mom really wants a Mercedes station wagon, LOL. And she'd have one. I think of all the ridiculous hunting gear and toys I would buy my dad.
So for someone who spends so much time thinking about money, it's really odd that I avoid money on the basis of not liking it.
Sometimes you realize things about yourself that you can't pinpoint, and that you don't understand. And this big ol' world is full of things that I don't understand. Hell, my own self is something I occasionally don't understand. (Keeping in mind here that I never fully understood the Protractor and I still managed to become a fulfilled person, so maybe understanding isn't the basis of everything in the Free World.)
This is just one of those things about myself that I either need to make a concerted effort to change, or make a concerted effort to accept. Which makes the next decision deciding which of those two I'll be doing.
Well, in reality I'll probably be Napping, eating Mints, and organizing my sport socks, but in my spare time I'm sure I'll scrounge up some brain cells to devote to personal reflection.
Toonses
posted by Amanda at 02:08
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home