I’ve Been Meme’d

Girish tagged me:

  • I am, right now, enjoying my first quiet moment at this new job. Thirty-five minutes until my next meeting, so I better make the most of it.
  • I want to travel as much as possible. I want to wear out my passport and to ride trains and subways and buses and taxis in all of the great cities. I want to walk casually through museums and eat fantastic meals. And I want to do it all with good friends.
  • I wish I had more close friends in Knoxville.
  • I hate George W. Bush. I’m not just trying to be snarky here. Before his presidency I was a mostly unpolitical person. But after watching the Republicans run the Executive, Legislative, and a good chunk of the Judicial branches of the government for the last few years — in other words, after watching the Right recreate our government in its own grotesque image — I can barely choke down the bile.
  • I love hearing Joanna laugh, especially when we’re in different parts of the house.
  • I miss playing golf with my father-in-law. Like most guys on a golf course, we rarely talked about much other than the sad state of our game, but it meant a lot to me.
  • I fear late-night trips to the emergency room.
  • I hear Aretha Franklin. She’s singing “Dr. Feelgood” live at the Fillmore West.
  • I wonder what Long Pauses will look like five years from now. Twenty years? Sixty?
  • I regret never having had the opportunity to teach an upper-level film or literature course. I’d be good at it, I think. So far, this is my only regret about leaving academia.
  • I am not myself at large social gatherings. I’m never more awkward, unsocialized, and alone as when in a packed room, especially when it’s my responsibility to provoke small talk.
  • I dance badly, alone, in the basement, accompanied by really loud music. It’s one of my favorite stress-relievers. By the end of the summer, there’s a good chance I’ll also know how to waltz, cha-cha, and do a few other steps of “ballroom” dance. Consider this fair warning.
  • I sing badly, alone, in the basement, accompanied by really loud music. Also, I ocassionally sing at the piano or when strumming an acoustic guitar. I prefer that no one hears me doing any of this.
  • I cry quite often, actually. More than I used to, at least. And I think that’s a good thing.
  • I am not always listening to what you’re saying, even when I’m looking you directly in the eye and nodding my head in agreement. My mind tends to wander. Don’t take it personally.
  • I make with my hands, um, this is a tough one. I’m pretty good at replacing toilets and doing other minor plumbing projects. And I enjoy patching and painting walls. And I like to install light fixtures. Basic home repair — that’s what I make with my hands.
  • I write too seldom these days. It’s been nearly a year since I last wrote anything longer than 1,500 words or so, and I’m beginning to worry that the muscles have atrophied.
  • I confuse affect and effect. I’ve been taught the rules more times that I can count, but when I sit down to write I inevitably end up reaching for my dictionary. Or, as is more often the case, I bend over backwards to avoid using the damn words altogether.
  • I need to spend less time alone. Great books, films, music, and websites are no excuse for ignoring relationships.
  • I should eat better. Joanna and I eat out too much. And we’re lazy cooks. Also, I really like chips and dips and salsas and other salty, fatty snack foods. If I didn’t spend so much time on the treadmill I’d already be on cholesterol medicine. Damn you, genetics.
  • I start four times as many books as I finish.
  • I finish almost everything I begin. (Well, except books.) It’s one of my better qualities, I think.
  • I tag no one in particular.

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