If you really knew me, you would know…

I’ve learned so much about my fellow bloggers – Alex, Hillary, Cassie, and Clare – through their versions of this themed post.  As with all good secret telling, it’s more fun if you share some of your own. So, my friends, if you really knew me….I mean, really really knew me, you’d know that…
 
I’m an introvert. It may not always seem like it. I come across as - well - peppy, and I am an open book in conversation. I’ll tell you the story of my most embarrassing moment just as easily as I will my favorite color (green). But, being around people drains my energy. I need stretches of alone time to recoup, and so I often turn down social invitations to curl up with my journal instead.
 
I love laundry day. To me, doing laundry is opening up a world of possibility. My favorite pink polka dot socks. Oh, they’re available. My killer jeans. In rotation. Let’s not even get started on pajamas fresh out of the dryer.
 
I skipped my high school graduation. When an invitation to go to D.C. to see a Hillary Clinton and Newt Gingrich speak at a health care policy conference, I said see ya to graduation. At the time, I was fleeing the social pressures of high school. Now, I like think that I learned young to never turn down the invitation for an adventure.
 
I interned in public relations. After my junior year, I spent the summer in D.C. interning in the tech division of a PR firm. I loved the topic but hated the city’s culture. Business suits and trading favors aren’t my style.
 
I studied Spanish, German, and Italian. Spanish for first through eighth grade. German for two years in high school. Italian for two in college. I can read a bit of each, but try to talk to me, and I speak Spamanlian.
 
I suck at trivia night. I rock at knowing random facts, but when I’m put on the spot, my brain freezes up. I can’t access any information; it’s all wide eyes and sweaty palms. I’m only good when it’s completely unnecessary.
 
I curse. A whole shit ton of a lot. Okay, that was just to justify my point. I try to limit it when I write, but I can’t help it when I’m in conversation. Words hold power, and cursing kicks up the pow factor in my verbal commentary. Maybe it’s the former musical theater drama queen in me coming out to play.
 
I have a sixth sense for people’s emotions and unspoken motivations. Understanding people and how they interact is my super power. Spend enough time around me, and I’ll be able to tell what your emotions are before you even figure it out yourself. Ha, and sometimes, that’s just as annoying as it sounds.
 
I chopped my hair off two days before senior pictures. True story. I was frustrated with how my hair looked. My mom and I couldn’t agree on how I would style it for my pictures, so I got a pixie cut. I’ve never dyed my hair, but I’ve gone for the seriously short, edgy cuts a few times since then.
 

 
I participated in Miss Michigan’s Junior Miss. I grew up around Junior Miss; my mom ran a local program. I grew up learning how to wave in parades, how to answer questions like “who do you believe is the most influential women of all time”, and how to walk gracefully in heels. But, when it came to the actual competition, I totally froze answering my question on stage. Grace under pressure is most definitely not my super power.
 
I only started eating tomatoes in the past year. I was a ridiculously picky eater growing up. If it wasn’t part of the bread or meat family, I wasn’t having it. Fortunately, my fortitude for trying new foods has grown with time and gentle nudging. Also, having a husband that people call The Garbage Disposal because he’ll eat anything probably helps.
 
I thought about leaving school to move to LA. I dreamed of becoming an Oscar winning actress. Musical theater brought me joy, but acting brought me every single emotion in the toolbox. I realized though that success in that industry didn’t line up with what success meant to me. So, I walked away from the dream and found a new one.
 
Someday, I will sing I Will Always Love You at karaoke. I’ve been singing it in the shower for practically the past two decades, and it’s time to own up and power ballad it out on karaoke night.
 
I read lips. I desperately try to look people in the eyes when we’re having a conversation, but for some reason, I process what people say when I read what they’re saying. So, don’t be offended if I’m staring at your mouth while you’re talking. I promise you don’t have anything stuck in your teeth.
 
I don’t get all mushy very often, but The Mister is absolutely the best part of my life. When I think about our relationship, it feels like my body isn’t a big enough container for my heart.
 
I worked for The Michigan Daily. For a year and a half, I worked in the opinion section of the University of Michigan’s newspaper. It doesn’t quite make sense now why I did. I hate politics, and I definitely hate debating about them. The people were incredible though.
 
I’m self conscious of my hands. I have tiny hands, and for some reason, I’ve always thought of them as short and pudgy instead of just petite. Eh, we’ve all got something, right? On the flip, I adore my petite feet. It’s almost always a size 6 out on display rack at shoes stores, so I can walk around trying on shoes without ever having to bug a salesperson.
 
I didn’t want a big diamond. The Mister and I talked a lot about marriage (and rings) before he proposed. We were on the same page about the whole diamonds things. If I’m going to wear a piece of jewelry forever, I didn’t want a shiny, new diamond. So, instead, he bought me an antique emerald ring. I’m in mad love with the rock and man who gave it to me. Winning.
 

 
I hate driving. I’m not a bad driver, but something about being the only person in control of a hunk of metal that is capable of destroying me scares the shit out of me. That and there are a LOT of horrible drivers out there just waiting to play tango with said hunk of metal.
 
I have a rock collection. Well, a rock collection that currently resides in my bin of old stuff I couldn’t get rid of sitting in my in-law’s basement. They were one of my favorite possessions growing up, so much so that I would take them into the bathroom with me. Once, I forgot to take them back out, and my mom flipped when she saw them. She thought I was flushing them down the toilet. Nope, I was just in rock love; I couldn’t bare to part with them for a moment. I’m still a bit flabbergasted that I didn’t end up majoring in geology in college.
 
I can’t handle scary movies. It took me months to recover from The Sixth Sense. I prefer my ghosts animated, my vampires sparkle-fied, and my murderers singing.