I was tagged by wlotus, so I’m going to deliver.

I hate the sound of footsteps. No matter what shoes someone’s wearing, I do NOT want to hear that person walking. I especially hate the clicky high heels. The sound of platforms thumping against the carpet. Flip-flops, even if I’m the one wearing them. I prefer silent walking, please. Thank you.

I’m a semi-aggressive driver. Part of the reason it took me 13 years to finally get my license was that I was scared. Terrified of the people who would ride your bumper, cut you off, speed around you. I’M THAT DRIVER. Eeek! Seriously. The drivers in Columbus and especially the suburbs are way too cautious. Braking while going through a green light. WTF is that all about? Braking for no reason. Driving at least 6-7 MPH below the speed limit. I have places to go! Things to do. I am not going to sit behind someone while she yaps on her cell phone or while he smokes a cigarette. And God forbid I get behind a mini-van with Christian stickers all over the back of it. Or a Cadillac. I know I won’t be getting anywhere then. People who drive Caddys or Jaguars tend to be very slow. As if I needed another reason to hate Cadillacs. Anyway…DRIVE, people!

I freak out. I doubt. I worry. All the time. Sometimes people are “lucky” enough to see evidence of that, usually in locked LJ posts. Often, my paper journal gets the brunt of it. I can go back and read what I’ve written in the past couple of months, and my emotions are all over the place. Rollercoaster city. Stressed, frustrated, upset, excited, happy, thrilled. But even when I feel happy, I always have this niggling fear that it’s all going to disappear soon. I’m not used to being worry-free. I am always tense, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Even when people tell me I deserve the good things, it’s hard for me to believe because for some reason, I’ve talked myself into thinking I deserve nothing but misery, even though I can’t help but strive for happiness.

I like love to collect pens, journals, and stationery. Pretty stationery. Fancy pens, rolling ball. Definitely not ball point. And journals–they HAVE to be the Paperchase ones from Borders, though. They’re thick, spiral bound, lined, with a pocket in the back, and most importantly, the pages are NOT perforated. That way, I can’t rip pages out. I have to own everything I write, feel, experience at that moment. No going back.

Because of that, I find it hard to write down bad things. I can whine about things to certain friends, but when it comes to recording them in my paper journal, I have a HARD time doing so. It’s like, I feel like I’ve failed and why would I want a record of that? No matter what the bad thing is. If it was or wasn’t my fault. I still find a way to blame myself, and that shame keeps me from being truly honest, even in my journal sometimes.

Music really, really affects me. I’ve noticed that my mood can go up or down depending on the song I’m listening to at that moment. This can be a very dangerous thing. Music is the one thing that can thread its way into my body and wrap itself around my heart, filling my soul with its words and melodies. When I am upset, instead of listening to the dark, angry stuff, I try to make myself listen to some Celtic or New Age music. Returning by Jennifer Berezan has breathing in the song, and I find myself breathing along with it without even thinking about it. I also try to make “high energy” playlists for when I am feeling sluggish. I found that a few New Kids on the Block songs really do the job of waking me up. There are songs that empower, that strengthen, and that push me. I try to stick to those.

Well, those are my six things. Not sure if anything *new* was here, but that’s all I wanted to share today. :) I’m tagging anyone who wants to do this.


I changed my mind. I tag: bluemo84, magecky413, and meimeigui.

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