I jokingly once said of myself that I'm not as nice as I seem, but nicer than most. Except, it really plays out that way sometimes. Frankly, if you're not sure about me, then you're on the right track. And I certainly don't mean that in any self-deprecating way.
I find that I'm not often one to linger long on extremes. I have an innate, though albeit unnecessarily convoluted, system of balancing things out. Can I explain it better than that right now?
I don't conceive of my life as one of stages or milestones or anything like that. I don't assume that I will one day own a home (or even a car). I don't plan on children. But that doesn't mean that I reject these things, either. Life just happens. I'm a late bloomer - B.A. completed at age 27 - and was definitely a crotchety old man during the period before that. And sometimes still am. I was vehemently opposed to the idea that I was insular when living at the height of said insularity. I now look at that time and smirk at my own hard-headed snarkiness. Obviously there's more to the story.
It can be fairly apparent that I've been eating either carrot cake or chocolate, as both tend to make me giddy. I work at a bakery and chocolate lurks around every corner, so I'm surprisingly pleasant when there. Attempt to find no absolute truth in that statement. Additionally, I keep frozen waffles on hand for those moments when I realize I am out of bread or the bread has gone stale. I don't have a driver's license, but I am an aggressive pedestrian. I've been known to get loud with a driver who tries to overtake an intersection out of turn.
Sometimes I forget things that I've said and replace them with others. Sometimes my memory is blindingly accurate to the fussiest detail. I'm figuring out how to choose between the two. My occasional inconsistency is balanced by my innate love of repetition in anything. Honestly, sometimes I'm squinting so hard at the little bits that I fail to notice what the hell it is I'm looking at.
I quit smoking in 2012, May-ish. As of Sept. 2013, I am still cigarette free. I like it. I feel like my sense of smell is still recovering. And at any rate, I really dislike second-hand smoke getting into my head space, which always made for my being a fussy smoker.
Certain clipped words frustrate me, but I regularly acronym things. Chicago-style pizza and hot dogs trump other-style pizza and hot dogs, but I'll think it's cute if you believe otherwise. I can sometimes recite "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" from memory, though the middle gets a little rough.
I am honey, curry, and dark chocolate.