A good friend once wrote about the things he knows. I’ve been dwelling far too much lately on what I don’t know – when I’ll get my writing mojo back (man, do I despise the word ‘mojo’), how the human body works (oooh…vague), the science behind Jell-O – and I haven’t given myself credit for what I do know. I know a lot of stuff about a lot of stuff, I’ll have you know, it’s just that not a lot of that stuff about stuff is important, useful stuff. It’s mostly things that take up precious cargo space for other, more essential stuffs. Like remembering to go to the pharmacy or to brush my hair and the like.
So, in an effort to remind myself that I’m not all forgetfulness and useless facts, a list. Things I Know About Myself.
1. I know I make the best damn pudding parfaits ever. If there were pudding parfait Olympics, I’d be a decathalete or something equally impressive. I described a few of my creations to a coworker yesterday and I’m pretty sure she was ready to propose.
2. I know I have a big heart. Sure, I’m cold and introverted and that sometimes puts people off, but I have room in my heart for everyone. Animals of all sorts melt me, I will forever be a champion for children, I believe in equal rights. I have trouble showing positive emotion on the outside, but on the inside, I know hate has no home here.
3. I know I am good with faces. Names, I’m not terrible, but I’m not as good with them as I am with faces. Especially smiles. My hearing is a little janked, so I supplement by watching mouths and, as a result, I grow very well acquainted with a person’s mouth and their teeth. And I remember them well. (Although, I must admit that I got a face wrong this weekend. AH bested me. Just this once, I will admit defeat. It was a first and I vow not to make it a habit.)
4. I know I do “comfortable” better than anyone. My strong personal belief is that clothes are not worth wearing if you don’t feel comfortable in them. And none of this “Oh, I could wear these stilettos for DAYS. They’re so COMFY!” No, they’re not. They could, at any moment, slice your feet up into shreds. That’s not comfort. Track pants, fuzzy slippers and a blankie on the couch. THAT’S comfy. And I’m comfortable during the day, too, just not so overtly. My work clothes don’t make me hate my life, although, I still dive into my lounge pants the second I come through my door at the end of the day.
5. I know I’ve started to write well. I took creative writing in high school, was even an editor for our school’s literary magazine, The Grendel, but I wasn’t good. Maybe I was alright for a high school student, but I look back and read what I thought was good at the time and I’m embarrassed. But now, I know I’m much better. Mojo or not (*shudder*), I’m not too shabby.
6. I know I’m able to appreciate life. I don’t bemoan trivial inconveniences out loud. Sure, I may in my mind, and perhaps I’ll whine for a moment to AH or to a friend, but I quickly get over it and appreciate what I have. I live in the most beautiful country in the world (FACT), I love my family, immediate and extended, I know how fortune I am to have a job and live in a house and have food to eat. I’ve been given and offered a lot in this life and I appreciate all of it.
7. I know what it means to be charitable. With my appreciation for my life and my big heart, I do what I can to help others less fortunate. I donate a portion of my pay to a local woman’s shelter. I have always donated food and toys at Christmas and this year, for the fourth year in a row, will be organizing my office’s food and toy drive. We donate all of our gently used clothing and toys to the Salvation Army, purging as much as possible before each birthday and Christmas. I may not be wealthy, but I know that there is always something that I can do to help others who haven’t been given the same opportunities.
8. I know a lot of song lyrics. From all genres and generations and degrees of popularity. It’s a requirement, see, because I can’t drive without singing full-throttle, so with enough practice, you eventually get the words right. This is why I’m terrible on a road trip. Between the singing and the narcolepsy, I’m surprised I haven’t been flung from a moving vehicle yet. I’m sure there’s still time.
9. Speaking of road trips, I know I have an enormous bladder. I can go a dazzlingly long time without having to make a pit stop. We once drove to Florida from Ontario, straight through, and I peed three times. That’s three times in about 26 hours (including food breaks). And I didn’t even get a kidney infection or anything. I win at bladders.
10. I know I’m good at funny. Not that I know I’m funny, although, I do know I can make people laugh sometimes (and that, my friends, is one of the best feelings in the world), but I’m good a humour. I know the etiquette. I know when a joke is appropriate and when it’s in poor taste or too soon. I know when a laugh is welcome and when feelings could be hurt. I know that there’s a time and a place for goofing around. Being good at funny means also being good at serious, and I’m both of those things.
And I know I need my lists to be even numbers. Decorating needs to have groups of threes or fives, lists need to be even. Ten, preferably. Although, a list of five is occasionally acceptable, but only in desperate times.
Go forth and tell me what you know about yourself.