[Originally a Facebook Note]
I completely supported the 25 Random Things phenomenon on Facebook. A lot of my friends write really well, and they have a good sense of dark and light and serious and silly, and some of the posts were really funny and others were just plain interesting, and I thought that taken together, the things people decided to share about themselves created a unique picture of each person and how they view themselves.
That said, 25 Random Things has spawned a goodly number of bastard children, and it's starting to feel like the first couple years we all had email around this place. I'm a proponent of the whole "nobody's forcing you to read anything you don't want to read" approach to the social side of the internet, but I had no intention of actually participating in any of this crap.
Okay, that's a lie. I've been participating in a lot of this crap. I did the What Your iPod Says About You thing, for example. But I had no intention of actually posting any of this crap to Facebook. It was something I did because I clearly have enough time on my hands (see: Television Shows That Are Annoying Me This Week if you have any reason to doubt the expansively, almost disturbingly open nature of my calendar these days), and I did it because I thought it might be good for a smile or two. But I did not do it to share with Facebook. The plan was to look at the results, laugh, and move on with my life.
Until I did this Google Game thing this morning. The instructions are to type "[your name] likes to" into Google and report the first 10 results. Now. Those of you who know me well (and most of you with whom I'm friends on Facebook know me halfway decently. I hear people talking about the distress they experience discerning how to react properly to friend requests from people with whom they would prefer not to be friends. Let me tell you, I experience no such distress. If didn't talk to you during the four years we went to school together, we don't need to talk now. I reject friend requests. I delete friends who were added during happy, boozy moments at bars courtesy of the dual scourge of iPhone and Facebook Mobile. I'm not sure what this says about me, and it's unlikely that it's something positive, but whatever. I am who I am.)
And who I am right now is someone who has completely lost track of what I was saying. Where the hell was I? Oh. Right. The Google Game. Okay. Those of you who know me well, know that a lot of the reason I started going by Siobhan in college is that the abundantly common first name "Mary," especially when attached to the similarly common surname "O'Brien," was just all a little Plain Jane for me. I never felt like I fully self-actualized in high school. (You like that shit, right?) I'm sure it was actually low self-esteem that was holding me back, but for the sake of argument, let's say it was the name. Siobhan sounded more interesting. Siobhan sounded more fun. Siobhan was the person I wanted to be.
Except that it turns out that Siobhan is also, apparently, a little freaky. Because I pop open Google this morning. I type in "Siobhan likes to" and I'm greeted with the following:
1. Siobhan likes to dancingly drunk around, and sit on the toilet. (I swear to all that is good and holy that this is the first result. Google it yourself folks.)
2. Something boring.
3. Something boring.
4. Siobhan likes to do it in the garden.
5. Siobhan likes to push me into Julia, and Julia into the bushes.
6. Siobhan likes to play with toys during off hours and is trying to study her toes in order to get ahead professionally.
7. Something boring.
8. Something boring.
9. Siobhan likes to partake of the fluids!
10. Siobhan likes to get drunk at SCA gatherings and flaunt her wenchy corset-puppies! (Again, Google it yourself people. I'm not making this up.)
I mean, seriously, what the hell is that all about?? I like to think that I know how to have fun, and I'm generally a good person to have around if you're looking to go out and kick back and just have a good time. But sweet lord! Some of that stuff up there is a little out of control. I'm not sure I'm living up to the Siobhan name, and to be honest, I'm not sure that's something to which I aspire either! Ya'll can call me Mary from now on. I'm reverting!
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Monday, February 2, 2009
26+ Random Things
Like most women, a good number of gay men, and three straight guys, I got sucked into doing that 25 Random Things thing on Facebook. Nobody was more surprised than I was that I actually had a bit of a tough time coming up with 25 things to say about myself. But it must have been the self-inflicted pressure, because ever since I posted the damn thing, every other thought that crosses my mind is something I could have added to that list. So I'm just going to add them here. Who knows, it might come in handy some day!
Here's the original 25 things from Facebook:
1. I finally started a blog (that would be this thing you're reading, right here!), but it has quickly deteriorated into a graveyard of half-written posts. There’s this “Draft” function that let’s you start a post and finish it later. I’ve got the starting thing down pat, but the finishing it later business isn’t going so well.
2. If I run out of “Random Things” to say about myself before I reach number 25, I intend to borrow shamelessly from blog ideas that are residing in the Graveyard of Half-Written Posts. I imagine the unfinished posts titled “Stuff I Like” and “Stuff I Wish I Liked” will contain some things that would fit well on this list.
3. I like to count stuff. The harder something is the count, the more fun it is to count.
4. I frequently change the wording of sentences I write because I don’t like the way they look on paper. Writing should be about how it sounds, but sometimes it’s about how it looks. At least in my world it is.
5. My fantasy life is richer than your’s. I can pretty much guarantee that much.
6. I wish I knew somebody who liked exactly the same music that I do, exactly as much as I do. If I did, I’d plan a trip to Toronto with that person to see a whole bunch of singer/songwriters whom I’ve Six-Degrees-Of-Moxy-Fruvous-ed my way into knowing and loving.
7. Of all the odd things I inherited from my father, I think the weak shoulders are the most annoying. They’re impossible to train, and easy to injure.
8. The obscenely long toes I got from my father are no picnic either – if I had normal sized toes, I’d have normal sized feet – but I generally like my feet, so we’ll let it go for now.
9. I should do laundry a lot more frequently than I do. In other words, I have an approaching obscene number of pairs of underwear.
10. I started losing interest in other people’s lists around item #9 or 10. I implore you to keep reading. I promise to make it worth your while.
11. I’d still like to move to California someday, but I doubt I ever will. At least not any time soon. All the absolute most important things in my life are around where I am now.
12. If this song doesn’t make you happy, there’s something wrong with you. Mistra Know-It-All originally by Stevie Wonder, covered by Moxy Fruvous
13. Either we go through an obscene amount of paper towels and toilet paper at my office, or I’m the only one who ever changes the rolls, because seriously, I feel like I change that shit daily.
14. Ironically, I believe that it was my diligence in changing paper towels and toilet paper that led to my first-ever job promotion: from Bowline Attendant to Bowline Cashier.
15. I still wear my Bowline Lifeguard (note: job promotion #2) shirts when I work out. I don’t know what kind of material those things were made of, but they’ve sure held up.
16. A lot of the best things in life happen on Sunday. Football Sundays. NASCAR Sundays. Sunday seisiuns at the Irish spots. Long runs on Sundays. Sunday night dinner. Sundays.
17. The other best things in life are as follows: Take-away coffee. Unlimited Metrocards. Learning that your favorite band is coming to town. Drinks outside in the afternoon in the summertime the day before a holiday when work lets you out early. The U.S. Open on Labor Day. New York City.
18. I believe that people who say they have no regrets are either lying or not thinking hard enough about their lives or not holding themselves to high enough standards or have no imagination.
19. I’m comfortable being all judge-y like that.
20. My favorite day of my life was wine tasting in the Finger Lakes with Mary and Julie and Chris and a few other people on Chris’s 21st birthday. My favorite night of my life was my first Bon Jovi concert at Giants Stadium. My favorite trip was San Diego in 2004 for the Rock n’ Roll Marathon. Which is an odd choice. But man, that was a fun trip.
21. I wish my old roommate would move back to New York.
22. If it’s possible that part of a poem could change a person’s life, for me, it would be this part of this poem:
I was reading a book about pleasure,
how you have to glide through it
without clinging,
like an arrow,
passing through a target,
coming out the other side and going on.
~ From The Impossible Dream by Tony Hoagland
23. There’s an awful lot of Britney Spears on my mp3 player.
24. My favorite people in the world are the ones who are totally extraordinary in totally ordinary ways, and I’m fortunate to have a pretty decent number of them in my life. Sometimes I’d like to tell them how amazing I think they are, but then I worry that they’ll think I’m weird (or drunk), so I keep it to myself.
25. This was harder to write than I thought it would be.
26. Sometime in my late-teens, I became aware that most people imagine the toothfairy looking a bit like Tinkerbell. I always imagined the toothfairy looking like the Abominable Snowman, except covered in fluffy white pillow feathers. I haven't a clue how this happened, but I prefer my toothfairy to your's!
27. I think people who don't like sports are totally missing out. And guys who don't like sports creep me out a little. Sports bring people together. They make you feel like you're a part of something. They give you a reason to be proud of where you're from. They're exciting and fun, and they can be uplifting and breathtaking and heartbreaking and motivating. Sports, man.
28. Common stuff for other people that isn't even remotely common for me:
a. Going to the Movies: The last time I went to a movie was June 2008. Which actually wasn't all that long ago. But the time before that was whenever Spiderman II came out, and the time before that was whenever Spiderman I came out.
b. Getting a Haircut: My last haircut was in April 2007. I am seriously overdue. (Update: I have found hair religion! Or at least a hair stylist who cuts my hair in a way that makes me want to go back to see her on something approaching a reasonable schedule!)
c. Driving A Car: The last time I drove a car was September 2007. And before that was June 2004. I've actually become a bit phobic about it, which isn't good.
29. So far this year, I have been stone-cold sober for both New Year's Eve and the Super Bowl. If I can make it through St. Patrick's Day without a drink, I will have accomplished some kind of unnatural trifecta. (Update: Unnatural trifecta averted. St. Patrick's Day and all subsequent holidays have been celebrated in manners appropriate to each day -- cheesy beads and cheap beer on St. Patrick's day; get-out-of-work-early, afternoon, outside beers with friends on Memorial Day; beer gardens and barbecues on the Fourth of July; and Labor Day is fixing to see a return of the annual Official Drink of the U.S. Open.)
30. I sneeze, twice, every morning on the subway. I assume this has something to do with environmental allergens. You would think I'd remember to stick some tissues in my pocket, but if you did, you'd think wrong.
31. One of my missions in life is to understand why it's only Chinese food that you ever seen strewn across the streets of New York City. You never see a slice of pizza smashed angrily into the ground, nor a dirty water dog, or the remainder of a make-your-own-salad. But Chinese food is everywhere: The over-turned styrofoam container, a plastic fork, a trail of rice with unidentifiable pieces of the least appealing parts of what was once a pig or a chicken protruding from it. I don't know what this is about, and I want to find out.
32. I'm pretty sure that I know how I'm going to die: Mindbogglingly, one of the child-sized handful of places in New York City where one is permitted to make a right turn on red is the southeast corner of Astoria Park. There are kids everywhere. Running. Riding bikes. Generally not paying attention. Yet this is where we've chosen to let people do something that we've decided isn't safe at most any other intersection in the entire city. And perhaps it's our lack of familiarity with turning on red that results in people not doing it correctly. The whole bit about stopping first and looking appears to be lost on the majority of motorists at that corner. Rather, they just do a vague approximation of slowing down and then roll right on through the turn. The problem is that, you know, sometimes I'm in the middle of crossing the street when this occurs. I've had enough terrifyingly close calls to know that I stand a very good chance of someday getting hit by a car at that intersection. I'd prefer that this wasn't the one thing that I happen to know about my future.
33. Except that I suppose there's at least one other thing I know about my future: There are a handful of things that may someday land me in jail. For example, and since we're on the topic of traffic signals, some day I'm going to go completely apeshit on one of these assholes who can't seem to grasp that the red turn signal at the intersection of 54th & 6th means you're not allowed to turn -- one of these assholes who goes tearing through the red arrow into the intersection as I'm crossing the street and then drives right up till their bumper is inches from my knee and stares intently and angrily at me through their windshield like I'm the one doing something wrong. You're running a red light, buddy. You're also running the significant risk of me finally snapping and taking two and half years of this crap out on the hood of your stupid car. Rar.
34. I have a fairly long and vaguely comical history of being hit on by bike rickshaw drivers. It started in Toronto in October of 1996, when a gentleman whom we christened Spandex Man pedaled up to the window of the bar we were in, gave me the eye, chained his rickshaw to a pole, and then came inside and bought me a drink. In the years since these guys started appearing on the streets of New York, I've been hit on by more of them than I can count. It's the only profession that across-the-board apparently finds me attractive. I suppose I ought not shrug it off so carelessly. They're probably a little low on the cash end of the dating equation, but I imagine they're quite fit. And I have have about a million questions that I'd just love to ask a bike rickshaw driver over a drink, e.g., have you ever turned down a passenger because he was just too fat? What the hell happens if you get in a car accident? How come none of your kind ever looks behind you before you cut across the running lanes in Central Park? (An aside: Another thing that I know about my future is that it likely some day involves me tangled up in a bike rickshaw that's cut me off in Central Park. Grr.)
35. It's occurred to me that if I continue to update this list for the entire rest of my life, it could get pretty interesting. And long.
To be continued ...
Here's the original 25 things from Facebook:
1. I finally started a blog (that would be this thing you're reading, right here!), but it has quickly deteriorated into a graveyard of half-written posts. There’s this “Draft” function that let’s you start a post and finish it later. I’ve got the starting thing down pat, but the finishing it later business isn’t going so well.
2. If I run out of “Random Things” to say about myself before I reach number 25, I intend to borrow shamelessly from blog ideas that are residing in the Graveyard of Half-Written Posts. I imagine the unfinished posts titled “Stuff I Like” and “Stuff I Wish I Liked” will contain some things that would fit well on this list.
3. I like to count stuff. The harder something is the count, the more fun it is to count.
4. I frequently change the wording of sentences I write because I don’t like the way they look on paper. Writing should be about how it sounds, but sometimes it’s about how it looks. At least in my world it is.
5. My fantasy life is richer than your’s. I can pretty much guarantee that much.
6. I wish I knew somebody who liked exactly the same music that I do, exactly as much as I do. If I did, I’d plan a trip to Toronto with that person to see a whole bunch of singer/songwriters whom I’ve Six-Degrees-Of-Moxy-Fruvou
7. Of all the odd things I inherited from my father, I think the weak shoulders are the most annoying. They’re impossible to train, and easy to injure.
8. The obscenely long toes I got from my father are no picnic either – if I had normal sized toes, I’d have normal sized feet – but I generally like my feet, so we’ll let it go for now.
9. I should do laundry a lot more frequently than I do. In other words, I have an approaching obscene number of pairs of underwear.
10. I started losing interest in other people’s lists around item #9 or 10. I implore you to keep reading. I promise to make it worth your while.
11. I’d still like to move to California someday, but I doubt I ever will. At least not any time soon. All the absolute most important things in my life are around where I am now.
12. If this song doesn’t make you happy, there’s something wrong with you. Mistra Know-It-All originally by Stevie Wonder, covered by Moxy Fruvous
13. Either we go through an obscene amount of paper towels and toilet paper at my office, or I’m the only one who ever changes the rolls, because seriously, I feel like I change that shit daily.
14. Ironically, I believe that it was my diligence in changing paper towels and toilet paper that led to my first-ever job promotion: from Bowline Attendant to Bowline Cashier.
15. I still wear my Bowline Lifeguard (note: job promotion #2) shirts when I work out. I don’t know what kind of material those things were made of, but they’ve sure held up.
16. A lot of the best things in life happen on Sunday. Football Sundays. NASCAR Sundays. Sunday seisiuns at the Irish spots. Long runs on Sundays. Sunday night dinner. Sundays.
17. The other best things in life are as follows: Take-away coffee. Unlimited Metrocards. Learning that your favorite band is coming to town. Drinks outside in the afternoon in the summertime the day before a holiday when work lets you out early. The U.S. Open on Labor Day. New York City.
18. I believe that people who say they have no regrets are either lying or not thinking hard enough about their lives or not holding themselves to high enough standards or have no imagination.
19. I’m comfortable being all judge-y like that.
20. My favorite day of my life was wine tasting in the Finger Lakes with Mary and Julie and Chris and a few other people on Chris’s 21st birthday. My favorite night of my life was my first Bon Jovi concert at Giants Stadium. My favorite trip was San Diego in 2004 for the Rock n’ Roll Marathon. Which is an odd choice. But man, that was a fun trip.
21. I wish my old roommate would move back to New York.
22. If it’s possible that part of a poem could change a person’s life, for me, it would be this part of this poem:
I was reading a book about pleasure,
how you have to glide through it
without clinging,
like an arrow,
passing through a target,
coming out the other side and going on.
~ From The Impossible Dream by Tony Hoagland
23. There’s an awful lot of Britney Spears on my mp3 player.
24. My favorite people in the world are the ones who are totally extraordinary in totally ordinary ways, and I’m fortunate to have a pretty decent number of them in my life. Sometimes I’d like to tell them how amazing I think they are, but then I worry that they’ll think I’m weird (or drunk), so I keep it to myself.
25. This was harder to write than I thought it would be.
26. Sometime in my late-teens, I became aware that most people imagine the toothfairy looking a bit like Tinkerbell. I always imagined the toothfairy looking like the Abominable Snowman, except covered in fluffy white pillow feathers. I haven't a clue how this happened, but I prefer my toothfairy to your's!
27. I think people who don't like sports are totally missing out. And guys who don't like sports creep me out a little. Sports bring people together. They make you feel like you're a part of something. They give you a reason to be proud of where you're from. They're exciting and fun, and they can be uplifting and breathtaking and heartbreaking and motivating. Sports, man.
28. Common stuff for other people that isn't even remotely common for me:
a. Going to the Movies: The last time I went to a movie was June 2008. Which actually wasn't all that long ago. But the time before that was whenever Spiderman II came out, and the time before that was whenever Spiderman I came out.
b. Getting a Haircut: My last haircut was in April 2007. I am seriously overdue. (Update: I have found hair religion! Or at least a hair stylist who cuts my hair in a way that makes me want to go back to see her on something approaching a reasonable schedule!)
c. Driving A Car: The last time I drove a car was September 2007. And before that was June 2004. I've actually become a bit phobic about it, which isn't good.
29. So far this year, I have been stone-cold sober for both New Year's Eve and the Super Bowl. If I can make it through St. Patrick's Day without a drink, I will have accomplished some kind of unnatural trifecta. (Update: Unnatural trifecta averted. St. Patrick's Day and all subsequent holidays have been celebrated in manners appropriate to each day -- cheesy beads and cheap beer on St. Patrick's day; get-out-of-work-early, afternoon, outside beers with friends on Memorial Day; beer gardens and barbecues on the Fourth of July; and Labor Day is fixing to see a return of the annual Official Drink of the U.S. Open.)
30. I sneeze, twice, every morning on the subway. I assume this has something to do with environmental allergens. You would think I'd remember to stick some tissues in my pocket, but if you did, you'd think wrong.
31. One of my missions in life is to understand why it's only Chinese food that you ever seen strewn across the streets of New York City. You never see a slice of pizza smashed angrily into the ground, nor a dirty water dog, or the remainder of a make-your-own-salad. But Chinese food is everywhere: The over-turned styrofoam container, a plastic fork, a trail of rice with unidentifiable pieces of the least appealing parts of what was once a pig or a chicken protruding from it. I don't know what this is about, and I want to find out.
32. I'm pretty sure that I know how I'm going to die: Mindbogglingly, one of the child-sized handful of places in New York City where one is permitted to make a right turn on red is the southeast corner of Astoria Park. There are kids everywhere. Running. Riding bikes. Generally not paying attention. Yet this is where we've chosen to let people do something that we've decided isn't safe at most any other intersection in the entire city. And perhaps it's our lack of familiarity with turning on red that results in people not doing it correctly. The whole bit about stopping first and looking appears to be lost on the majority of motorists at that corner. Rather, they just do a vague approximation of slowing down and then roll right on through the turn. The problem is that, you know, sometimes I'm in the middle of crossing the street when this occurs. I've had enough terrifyingly close calls to know that I stand a very good chance of someday getting hit by a car at that intersection. I'd prefer that this wasn't the one thing that I happen to know about my future.
33. Except that I suppose there's at least one other thing I know about my future: There are a handful of things that may someday land me in jail. For example, and since we're on the topic of traffic signals, some day I'm going to go completely apeshit on one of these assholes who can't seem to grasp that the red turn signal at the intersection of 54th & 6th means you're not allowed to turn -- one of these assholes who goes tearing through the red arrow into the intersection as I'm crossing the street and then drives right up till their bumper is inches from my knee and stares intently and angrily at me through their windshield like I'm the one doing something wrong. You're running a red light, buddy. You're also running the significant risk of me finally snapping and taking two and half years of this crap out on the hood of your stupid car. Rar.
34. I have a fairly long and vaguely comical history of being hit on by bike rickshaw drivers. It started in Toronto in October of 1996, when a gentleman whom we christened Spandex Man pedaled up to the window of the bar we were in, gave me the eye, chained his rickshaw to a pole, and then came inside and bought me a drink. In the years since these guys started appearing on the streets of New York, I've been hit on by more of them than I can count. It's the only profession that across-the-board apparently finds me attractive. I suppose I ought not shrug it off so carelessly. They're probably a little low on the cash end of the dating equation, but I imagine they're quite fit. And I have have about a million questions that I'd just love to ask a bike rickshaw driver over a drink, e.g., have you ever turned down a passenger because he was just too fat? What the hell happens if you get in a car accident? How come none of your kind ever looks behind you before you cut across the running lanes in Central Park? (An aside: Another thing that I know about my future is that it likely some day involves me tangled up in a bike rickshaw that's cut me off in Central Park. Grr.)
35. It's occurred to me that if I continue to update this list for the entire rest of my life, it could get pretty interesting. And long.
To be continued ...
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