Enough is enough! Obviously all the cool kids are doing it, so I will give into the peer pressure.
I’ve been tagged several times in these notes about posting 16, 25 or 100 random things, facts, habits, or goals about myself. Who am I to break the chain?
Here goes my 24 (one for every year out the womb).
1. My turbinates are the size of Cleveland, according to one ENT specialist. I have inferior turbinate hypertrophy. Therefore, I always sound congested or seem sick. Plus I have chronic sinus issues, which makes things even worse. A surgery could perhaps fix this issue. Doctors would cut about 20 percent of my turbinates. There is a 50-50 chance of it working and improving my breathing. Those odds suck to me. Plus I’m afraid it might mess up my nose.
2. Speaking of noses… I think they are the central point of beauty. That is what first attracts me to a person or what I will notice immediately. Think about it. Noses are on the center of your face. That reason alone makes Usher Raymond, Lloyd and Mario unappealing to me. The nose knows.
3. I dreamt the rapture happened once when I was younger. My parents left me home alone and I fell asleep thinking they were still there. I woke up, didn’t see anyone in the house or outside. I started crying and called my granddaddy. Luckily he answered and said obviously he wouldn’t be here too if it indeed had occurred. My parents still tease me about that to this day. I need to get right before I get left.
4. I didn’t like my first name when I was little because everyone kept messing it up and calling me Antonio or some derivative other than what it really was. I went through the Toni period for that very reason. These days I love my name and try my best to correct its misuse.
5. Let the records show my name was Sunday way before Nicole Kidman’s daughter. I love my nickname Sunday. My granddaddy christened me that because I was born on a Sunday. He said Antonia was too hard to pronounce and remember, and started calling me that from day one. Most of my family calls me Sunday (some might say Tone-Tone). And everyone who grew up with me knows my name as Sunday. One day I plan on legally adding it to my real name.
6. Being a writer has been my dream since fourth grade. The reporting thing only came along in sixth grade and it’s changed over the years. There was the year of the genetic engineer, lawyer and sometimes PIO/communications director for a school system. Ultimately, I aspire to do nothing but write columns and books while lying on the beach and sipping margaritas, actually an Arnold Palmer will do me just fine.
7. Arnold Palmer's are my favorite drink. Don’t know what it is? It’s half sweet tea, half lemonade. Georgia seems to have something against lemonade so I tend to drink more tea here. I get an AP every chance I can.
8. Reading is fundamental, especially when you don’t have cable. I say I turned it off because I’m poor. That’s halfway true. Honestly, I wasn’t watching TV much when I did have cable. I work odd hours, and never really had a set group of shows to watch. I found myself reading with the TV turned on silent (with captions of course). So I cut it off. That’s $20 I save each month.
9. I like to have captions on my movies for some odd reason. I blame it on a love for the written word in all forms. Actually, it’s just one of my many quirks.
10. I have to know how a movie unfolds before watching it. I can’t remember the last movie I saw that was a surprise. I think it’s because I desire uncertainty in an uncertain world. At least I’ll know how a movie ends if nothing else. I am trying really hard to not read Wikipedia’s plot summary of “My Bloody Valentine 3-D” before I see it.
11. I love Wikipedia. Sure it may be grossly wrong at times, but it does break down a lot of information. I read movie summaries, book summaries (yes, I semi-know how most of them end too), TV shows I don’t watch summaries and other random pieces of information.
12. Butterflies make me nervous. I went to the butterfly rainforest at the natural history museum in Gainesville only once. I’ll never go again. The butterflies are so gangsta. They will land right on you and not move regardless of what you do. I can’t be bothered!
13. Sleep is my friend. I spend a lot of my spare time, when I’m not reading, taking naps. I’ve been like this for ages. Sometimes my family calls me a vampire. My granny thought I was antisocial because I loved to sleep so much. If I get less than eight hours of sleep I’m very grouchy, or I get sick.
14. I can’t skate, ride a bike, swim or double Dutch. Hula-hooping didn’t come until my sophomore year of college (I’m pretty good now). I spent my childhood indoors reading instead of outside.
15. Most of my “Chronicles” start off as journal entries. What you see is pure unadulterated me. I don’t really write with an audience in mind. But I do appreciate all my note readers. It makes me happy to see others laughing about, getting inspired from or contemplating the words of little old me. Shout out to Fan Club President Dave V.
16. Obituaries can tell you a lot about a person. I read them on a weekly basis. It’s kind of morbid, but I started doing it as a child. It was further validated as a good habit to keep up in journalism school. I’ve even written a few obituaries. I’m going to combine my obituary writing business with my professional mourner service (I cry for you if no one else will, for a fee, and jumping in the casket is extra).
17. Have you heard how I talk? My voice is hideous! Honestly, I could never be in radio or TV because of this noise I emit from my mouth. There probably is a great disparity between how I actually sound and people hear me and what I hear. Oh well, the written word is the only way the world will ever hear me.
18. Brrr it’s cold in here! I’m also anemic, so anything less than 75 degrees is cold to me. I had a heater on at work (until it was kidnapped) and wear a jacket year round. Looks like someone needs to take iron supplements.
19. Sometimes when I write in my journal (and chronicles) I forgo many rules of grammar, punctuation, spelling, etc. Some might say its laziness. I call it writer’s license (is that a copy written term). Seriously, if e.e. cummings can use all lowercase letters, I can slice a few modifiers and use sentence fragments when convenient. Plus I feel like my journal is a conversation with myself (no I don’t talk to myself). But I do need to at least proofread before I post. Anyone want to proofread for me?
20. I’ve been keeping a journal since elementary school. One time my mother read it and I stopped for a season. I’ve actively kept one since February 2000. My BFF Dawn gave me one for a b-day gift. I’ve lost count of how many journals I have. I never really liked the term diary. It makes me think of diarrhea.
21. Sometimes I drift in and out of reality. For instance, I keep saying I’m going to have a sexy Capricorn Bash with Tyrese, Lebron James and Tiger Woods on our shared birthday one year. I gave this whole elaborate outline to my home girl about the party one day. It was complete with a guest list, music, food and what the itinerary was for the three party rooms (the chill room with yours truly as hostess, the sports room with LJ and TW at the helm, and the music lovers’ lounge for Tyrese and co). There was to be a weekend extravaganza and everything to raise money for our respective charities. My friend snapped me back to the present and say “Do you even know any of these people?” Not yet, but when we do meet the party will already be planned.
22. I am my own worse enemy. My potential greatness frightens me. This quote sums me up, “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, ‘Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous?’” I’m working on that each day. Maybe that’s what keeps me humble.
23. I have no sense of fashion. And honestly I don’t care. What’s in today is out tomorrow. Who has time to keep up with all that? I barely can keep up with the news and my socks.
24. Sometimes I need a good cry. Nothing in particular and absolutely everything will stress me out. So I go in my room, listen to sad love songs and cry for a good hour. Then I’m OK and ready to face the world. I think crying releases toxins from the body.
Tag me all you want now in other versions of this chain. I have written my random piece for the cause.
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