It’s possible to overcome your naturally shy disposition.
Seems like Business Insider is celebrating April Fools Day fairly early, unless they are serious about a recent article on the website.
A little shy to show our faces, are we?
BI put their ignorance out to dry on Facebook when they club the headline of a recent article ’ How to be Outgoing if You’re a Natural Introvert’ with shy.
Excuse me, are you implying you managed to creep under a rock when Continue reading
There’s something so intimate about hand-me-downs, don’t you think?
As a child I hated using things my brother no longer needed. I felt as if he was more important so he got to use brand new things: like a new study table. (I was too small to use anything else yet.)
I had outgrown my tiny table and got promoted to using my brother’s.
Why can’t I get my own table?
But studying at that table with my brother next to me, my feet hardly touching the ground, are the earliest memories I have of my first home; one of my fondest memories.
I loved to read and I’d read my story books cover to cover and answer all the questions at the end of each one before they were taught on class as my brother practiced his math questions, scribbling squiggles and pluses and minuses.
As I grew a little older, I would wear clothes from when he was small. I didn’t really mind. I don’t remember complaining about it; the table was another matter. In my head, it was every individual’s inviolable right to possess their own table.
I wear round neck t shirts my mother used to wear at one point. There are three of them, of which two go wherever I do.
There are three kinds of people: those who shave, those who don’t and ones who talk about it in a smartassed manner.*
Today, I shall reflect on the gallant act of hair removal.
*And I am lazy. Sometimes. Add two and two, folks.
It never fails to evoke awe in me how the sight of my own hair on my calves and arms jutting out in pride make me queasy.
I’m growing out the two moustaches above my eyes (thank you, random women at many salons for granting me the power of the porn star eyebrows, but gee, no thanks. I
look looked like Voldemort. Almost.)