I
am, unabashedly, a dork. I’ve been questioned about it before by people
who think that I don’t recognize the signs for what they are. Nope. I’m
not ignorant of the fact that I’m a dork.
I
sing in hallways. Actually, it started to chase off stage fright,
since if I can sing in the hall when I’m not under pressure, surely I
can sing in front of a few people on a stage, right? It became a
barometer of my personal cheer. It’s who I am. I’m the one singing to
herself as she digs through her bag on the elevator. It’s Friday at five
and I’m singing to The Cure in my head and I am in love. It’s just
another manic Monday. I occasionally make up strange little songs about
things and love it when others do the same, because I’m just a strange
little girl....
Does that make me crazy? Possibly.....
I
generally try to smile and make others smile. I bring tea and popcorn
to share into a meeting. I crack jokes to lighten the mood. I am a
purveyor of corny puns. I say silly and possibly inappropriate things at
odd times in the hopes of raising just one little twitch, one tiny
little smile, although I always hope for an open snort or a deep,
full-throated guffaw. I know. I come off as crazy. I do. But hey, no
harm,
right?
I
get overly excited about stupid things. SharePoint. I love it. That is a
stupid thing to be excited about. And finding new functions on Excel.
Holy crap. I geek out. When there’s something I love, it’s really hard
for me to dial it back. Just ask me about Doctor Who or Firefly or
::sniffles with a hand to her heart:: Earth 2. Go on. I dare you. I can
totally understand the Eleventh Doctor as he fixes his bowtie and says
“bowties are cool.” He grins, as I do, even in the face of all the eye
rolling and mutters of “there it goes again...”
I
have a deep and abiding love for role playing games. The kind I need
that cookie tin full of polyhedrons for. I love characters and dice and
character sheets. I love the smell of copier ink in the morning. I know
what my THAC0 is. Do you? I will admit to backseat gaming when people I
know are playing a video game. I have spent hours telling my SO what
things he can pick up in a given level. “Grab those bracers!!” “Talk to
the blue chick!” Always, always talk to the blue chick. Unless her eyes are black. If they're black, run.
I've
spent hours trying to figure out how to cable knit a dragon into
something (maybe a dice bag, maybe a sweater. Or perhaps even a pair of
wrist warmers. We'll see). I have the secret to the universe's most
awesome cookies (Peanut Butter Oatmeal Chocolate Chip) and I have a real
need to bake the occasional golden apple pi. When my friends publish,
there will be Snippet Suckers for everybody.
I
read almost anything I can get my hands on. I love warm voices; I love
dark humor. I love new worlds. I love asking myself if androids dream of
electric sheep or if girls can grow from barley corns. I want to know
where the red fern grows or where the wild things are. How do you get
with child a mandrake root? Do you have all the seeming of a demon that
is dreaming? Arrr? I'd love to know.
If that makes me crazy, you call the doctor. ‘Cause I’m happy just as I am.
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