The Proust Questionnaire

So I am one who is often bored. I am totally addicted to answering all those questionnaires on facebook. It isn't really an egotistical thing. It encourages me to think about all kinds of aspects of myself. Sometimes I learn new stuff and other times I don't.

I found the Proust (I still need to read up more on him) Questionnaire and I was reminded when I was a little kid and I would read them in my mother's Vanity Fair magazines. I would take turns asking friends and answering. I don't remember what I said then, so I am doing it now.

Your favorite virtue- Punctuality.

Your favorite qualities in a man- Adoring me.

Your favorite qualities in a woman- Not being catty or competitive.

Your chief characteristic- Intelligence.

What you appreciate the most in your friends- Being genuine and always frank with me.

Your main fault- Very low self esteem that cripples me in daily life.

Your favourite occupation- Acting.

Your idea of happiness- Feeling settled in life.

Your idea of misery- Being stuck in a Lowe's and not being allowed to play with the doorbells.

If not yourself, who would you be- Megan Fox. I want to be hot and stupid.

Where would you like to live- New York City, Tokyo or Paris.

Your favourite colour and flower- Green and iris.

My favorite bird- McCaw parrots.

Your favorite prose authors- Milan Kundera, J.D. Salinger, Leo Tolstoy and Jack Kerouac.

Your favorite poets- e.e. cummings, Sylvia Plath, Walt Whitman

Your favorite heroes in fiction- George from Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, Seymour Glass, Porfiry Petrovich

Your favorite heroines in fiction- Anna Karenina, Mrs. Robinson

Your favorite painters and composers- Georges Seurat, Vincent Van Gogh and Renior. Chopin, Verdi and Beethoven.

Your heroes in real life- Toby, Eddie Izzard, Hugh Hefner and Carl Samek. Woody Allen and Ingmar Bergman (intellectually speaking)

Your favorite heroines in real life- My great grandmother and aunt.

What characters in history do you most dislike- Stalin and Hitler are obvious but true.

Your heroines in World history- Rosa Parks and Eleanor Roosevelt.

Your favorite food and drink- Sushi, hot wings and baked potatoes, a good veggie burger... Long Island Iced tea, Cranberry juice and, of course, water.

What is your greatest fear- Getting mauled by a bear or being completely alone in the world.

Which words or phrases do you most overuse- "Wow."

What do you dislike most about your appearance- Umm, Everything

Which living person do you most despise- Will Darsey or my 5th grade English teacher, Mrs. Owens.

What or who is the greatest love of your life- Toby.

If you could change one thing about your family, what would it be- We are all brilliant and quirky in our way which I admire. I guess I would like to have a dad that liked me more.

What is your most treasured possession- My memories.

Your favorite names- Alexander and Natalya.

What I hate the most- Qualities I hate in myself reflected in others.

What is bad about me- Extreme competitiveness rooted from extreme insecurity.

The military event I admire the most- I don't think I am qualified to answer. Although, the sit-ins in the 1960s were amazing demonstrations in passive resistance.

The natural talent I'd like to be gifted with- Does beauty count? No, probably playing the piano exceedingly well.

How I wish to die- Painless and happy with at least one person grieving me.

What is your present state of mind- Scattered and vulnerable.

For what fault have you most toleration- Imperfections of most kinds.

Your favorite motto- Listen: there is something to learn from everyone and every situation.

I hate cats.

I always have. I guess it started because my father had an intense dislike of them. He was one of those silver spoon kids that always had really nice furniture and he was afraid that a cat would claw it to bits.

More than disliking them, I feared them. Their almost devious eyes... The way they take delight in torturing smaller things... The way they move... It is like something between a saunter and a very purposeful flow of limbs shifting.. The noises they make... A purr sounds like some broken machine. Their meow is demanding. That "hmm" sound they make conveys exactly what they want you to feel, animosity. The way they flick their tails.

Cats know when you don't like them. They find it fascinating and like you all the more. It is a very common thing for a cat to zone in on me among a group of people to pester. Some do it because they can't fathom why I wouldn't like them. Some do it to torture me, show their power over me.

I got literally chased by a cat for something like eight blocks. This guy I vaguely knew had a big gnarly manx that always looked terrifying. He encouraged me to pet the cat and, as I reached my arm out to pet it, it took a hunk out of my ankle. My first instinct was to run. I turned back and saw the cat pursuing me. I had a friend who lived nearby. I figured the cat would lose interest by the time I made it to her house. I scaled the fence to her backyard and landed flat on the ground. I sighed, thinking it was all over and then the cat jumped on top of the fence. I scrambled to my feet and ran into the house through the sliding glass backdoor. My friend's mother looked at me, astonished, and said she didn't think I was coming over. I told her a cat was chasing me and I needed to get away from it.

"Cats don't go around chasing people." Her brow furrowed.

I pointed to the glass door where the manx was watching me. I think that blew her mind.

People who like cats are strange to me. I mean, I understand sort of. They are more independent than dogs. Often, they need less from you. They exercise themselves and they are relatively clean. On the other hand, I can't imagine wanting something that claws you and is basically a sponge. They take what they want from you: the occasional pet, food, attention. But it is all on their terms. I don't like that.

That is what I like about dogs. They are completely in love with you. If I devote time, money, love and effort into something it better damn well love me back.

There are only two cats that have broken through my hard wall of prejudice. One was a stray that started hanging around my house. I deemed him "Little Bob" because he naturally had a bobtail. He was easily the cutest cat I have ever seen with his gray and black marbling and sweet face. He was a rambunctious rascal, always running and hopping around. He disappeared one day. I hoped that he was not a casualty to the dangerous street I lived on.

The other cat I like belongs to a friend of mine. Her name is Lilly. Lilly is not what you would call "cute". She is more elegant looking . I couldn't stand her when we first met. She was feral at first, which was a good thing. I liked her not attempting to engage me in any way. After a while, though, she began to realize big old me was terrified of little old her and she decided to fuck with me. Every time I would sit down, she would be on my lap, digging into my clothes. I would try to stand and she would just dig her claws in deeper, petrifying me. I was far too scared to remove her from my lap. My friend had to constantly take her of my lap, sometimes once immediately after the next.

I grew to care for her because she meant everything to my friend even though she enjoyed messing with me more than I would have liked. We finally bonded one day when I was catsitting her and she and I were locked out of the apartment. Lilly was my friend's world and if anything happened to her on my watch I would not have been able to have lived with myself. I sats with her and told her how sorry I was about the whole thing. In a way, she seemed to understand my emotions and be affected by them.

After that, she no longer tormented me. She accepted me and I her. She even got to the point where she could be my lap cat and not claw me. In a messed up way, I was her "mom" and she was my pet.

I miss her sometimes.

What I like about you...

Apparently my boyfriend doesn't think I am too positive about him on this little blog that nobody reads. So I will say some nice things...

I like that you're really smart but you don't going around flaunting it with those $3 words. You sit back and let people underestimate you which may make the the smartest one of all.

I like it when I get excited about something, you do too.

I like how you call it like you see it. You see the situation for what it is and make those around you see the obviousness of it all.

I like that you have no atrocious habits: picking your nose, not showering regularly, sticking your fingers in your ears.

I like how you really notice things, be it the sky on a pleasant day or whether I moved the incense burner.

I like how you go above and beyond the call of duty not to kill spiders.

I like how you don't baby talk to anything.

I like that you are handy and can fix things.

I like how you know exactly what I am thinking most of the time and know me so well that you predict my reactions.

I like that you don't hold my weaknesses against me or- even worse- play upon them.

I like the way your face looks in the bed at night where you are looking to the side and your eyes are partly open.

I like your chubby, soft cheeks.

I like the way you cook.

I like how you are always thinking about something off the wall when I think you are thinking about something obvious.

I like that when we travel you will do anything no matter how inane.

I like that when you try, you give bad presents and when you don't you give great ones.

I like how when you find something funny you let out a loud laugh and clap your hands loudly.

I like that you are utterly lacking in pretension.

I like that you have stretchy elbow skin that I can pull like taffy.

I like that you somewhat get into the terrible television I watch even though I know you would rather be watching Mythbusters.

I like that you look like a Mexican and are in denial about it.

I like that you aren't obsessed with me.

I like your hair and body.

I like that I can go on about having crushes on people and you don't get offended at all.

I like that I can be completely honest with you even when it is blatantly painful to hear.

I like that you get me breakfast on important days where I am dreading getting up.

I like that you drink liquids slower than I thought humanly possible.

I like when you watch horror movies with me, even though you detest them.

I like how you give me trust and freedom.

I like how your smile brightens up my life.

I like how you genuinely want to help people and often do.

I like that you never lost your vivid imagination that all kids have.

I like that although you are an optimist, you thoroughly understand cynicism.

There are more things I like about you and more that I don't. That's how relationships are and, providing they are healthy, there are more likes than dislikes. That, or the dislikes are minutia.

The thing I like about you the most is that you are in love with me and I am in love with you. Almost six years and no change...

The bird flew into the house...

So it is New Year's day now. I had no fun, no fireworks and got into no mischief. At eight something, I was taken by stomach pains and fatigue. I went to sleep while my friends went to a party. The odd thing about it all is that I don't sleep, like, ever. What a year...

I am a logical person, almost painfully so, but I can't shake superstitious thoughts. My great grandmother was somewhat superstitious. I remember one day a bird flew into her house without her knowledge. My dad and I had to get the bird outside before Nannie found out. I didn't understand why at the time. The fact that my very logical great grandmother was so superstitious that she would go into a frenzy at seeing a bird in the house. A couple of days later, she died per the superstition.

Well, she was old and very sick. True. It was bound to happen. But the superstition stuck with me. It was like an Ingmar Bergman flick or something.

They say what you are doing at the strike New Year's is indicative of your following year. In fact, there are many New Year's superstitions:

Kissing at midnight- n/a since I was asleep and woke up completely alone.

Stocking up the cupboards with plenty of food- I have some but am not ready for the apocalypse or anything.

Paying bills- So the house will not be in debt... Taken care of. I am one for three.

The first person to enter your home after the stroke of midnight by knocking will influence the year you are to have- Get this, he should be tall, handsome and be bearing a gift. I wish. I could use the company and a present.

Noting goes in or out- Not garbage and not so much as dusting... I'll ignore this one.

Eat black-eyed peas- Hell to the no.

Avoid breaking things on New Year's Day- Considering my clumsiness, doubtful...

There are actually a few more but I am sick of typing them. What is wrong with me? Am I so fatalistic that I put stock into negative superstitions? That must be it... The good superstitions never affect me.

All I wanted was to get wakened before midnight. I hate the idea of me missing New Year's because I am feeling sick. That didn't happen, though. I slept straight through all the hullabaloo. What does this mean for me? That I will end the year just like I began it, alone? A scary thought... Maybe the tall, dark haired man will knock on my door and ask to come in. Maybe I will fuck up because he is really a vampire and I am his New Year's snack. Because I am feeling sorry for myself, I am giving more credence to superstitions than I should.

It is easy to believe that things are cosmically shitty when they are just plain shitty.