Well, I'm not sure what I've done to deserve this honor, but after nearly a year in the blogging world, I've received my very first "tag." At first I was a bit hesitant, because, a meme? Are you sure? And, if we're of the same generation, I don't know if you remember back in junior high (or middle school, if you prefer), when it was cool to only wear your backpack on one shoulder, and social death came to those who wore it on both shoulders, and then all of a sudden it became cool to wear your backpack on both shoulders, and it was a very confusing time for all involved. This is how I feel about memes. Is it like wearing a backpack on one shoulder? Or on both shoulders? I'm not sure and frankly I'd rather avoid the question altogether. However, not knowing the etiquette that goes along with being tagged, I would hate to offend anyone, so here I am, embracing the meme. You should embrace the meme too. It turns out it's actually fun, much like the discovery that the wearing of backpacks on both shoulders is not only cool, but also drastically reduces the number of scoliosis cases each year, not that I would know, and not that my left shoulder is noticeably higher than my right shoulder, or anything. But there you go, something you didn't know about me before, and it's a freebie. And now, let the meme begin!
What was I doing ten years ago?
Ten years ago I was enjoying the last few weeks of my senior year of high school, and becoming increasingly sentimental and nostalgic (as I am wont to do) with each passing day. I was looking forward to going away to college, and blissfully ignorant of the fact that I was mere months away from being smacked upside the head by the calloused and ring-bedecked hand of "the real world."
Five things on my to-do list today:
-8 a.m. phone interview, on my day off, and in French, for a summer job that sounds totally awesome, and no, I'm not nervous at all, why do you ask?
-2 p.m. coffee date with Hugh, which I really, honestly do not want to go on and am sort of dreading, but feel obligated since I've already cancelled on him once.
-Write three pages of Roland paper.
-Then write another.
-And then one more. Voilà, that's five pages! And only thirteen million more to go.
Five snacks I enjoy:
My shopping list generally starts out with important things, like:
and ends with:
(All part of a healthy, well-balanced diet).
Five bad habits:
-Continuing to experiment with caffeine once every few months, thinking, "maybe this time it will be different," when really, I should know better by now.
-Talking about how I'm a delicate flower who can't handle caffeine, when hello, nobody cares.
-Cracking my back. It always feels better in the short-run, but in the long-run, I think it just makes it worse.
-I say "ok" a lot when I'm teaching my French class, a fact that I had to have pointed out to me, because I didn't even know I was doing it. Like, I end almost every sentence with, "ok?" Which, I don't know if you've noticed, is not even a French word.
-Does blogging count?
Five places I have lived:
-(Suburban town), Maryland. (Umm, I'll be moving back there soon, and given that my hometown is substantially smaller and less anonymous than Cambridge, I'm thinking that perhaps I shouldn't give the stalkers any fodder. Hello, stalkers? You hear me? Helllloooooo???)
-Historic St. Mary's City, MD (site of the fourth permanent settlement in British North America, Maryland's first capital, and remote, desolate hellhole)
-Westminster, MD (home to a small, private, liberal arts college, the Carroll County farm museum, and the heroin capital of the country!)
-Grenoble, France (Jan-May 2001 and Sept-April 2002-03)
-Cambridge, MA (Sept 2003-present)
Five jobs I have had:
-Baby-sitter extraordinaire from age 12 to 18
-Library page (I love how this title makes me sound like an attendant in the king's court, when really, all I did was put books back on the shelves)
-Bean girl at Smokey Glen Farm. My main function was to stand in front of a massive iron cauldron of beans and suffer rejection for three to seven hours straight. Because let me fill you in on a little secret of the company picnic industry: no one wants beans. Perhaps it's the catchy song, but somewhere along the way we've all had it ingrained in our collective unconscious that we should avoid beans at all costs. After all, no one wants to be that guy (or that girl, but let's be honest here) that ate beans at their company picnic and then tooted all over their coworkers. Man, I hated that job.
-Bank teller in a Wal-Mart. Ok, so I worked in a Wal-Mart, but I never worked for Wal-Mart, ok? It just happened to be a bank inside a Wal-Mart and...ok, I thought I was over it but apparently I'm not. Let's move on.
-A brief stint as an employee at the Pet Palace in the mall, where they kept puppies and kitties in cages, and I'm haunted just thinking about it. Apparently this trip down employment memory lane has degenerated into an exercise in shame. In my life I've worked in a Wal-Mart and in a store propagating puppy mills? I must be the devil! But I'm better now, I swear. I don't have a car and I bring my own bags to the grocery store! I'm a concerned global citizen. Really!
And I'm up to five already, and I'm just getting started. I guess I'll have to wait until I get tagged again to tell you about my fascinating forays into such lucrative enterprises as pool cashier, interlibrary loan substitute, girl paper boy, English teacher in France, French teacher in the U.S., waitress, and bookkeeper.
Well, I hope you have found this as entertaining and informative as I have. I, for one, have learned that, man, have I had some really shitty jobs in my life. Let this be a lesson to you: if anyone offers to pay you $6.25 an hour and tells you all you have to do is stand outside in the hot sun next to an open flame for seven hours/drag this 50-pound cauldron over to the next picnic site/count out four dozen live crickets and put them in this plastic bag/feed the snake/remove that piece of trash someone dropped in the tank, but be careful, it bites...JUST SAY NO. And remember, no matter where you work, it could always be worse. You could work in a bank branch in Wal-Mart. (No offense to bank tellers and/or Wal-Mart employees. I love you all!)
And now, for the business of "tagging." I don't even know that many bloggers, so let's just say, do it if you want to. And then leave a comment here to say that you did it, so we can all join in the fun. Oh, except for Tal, you're tagged for sure. And Jamie, you too. Have fun, everyone! Ok?