In no particular.
I forget more easily than I forgive. If I remember, it's because it hurts. If I've forgotten, it wasn't important. Enough. To him or her. Pain is an equal opportunist.
I’m methodical to a fault. I often see the end result and map it out as I go along without having a clue to the rhyme and reason of how I am going to get there. But I know my destination and that there is a method to my madness that will always work out in the end. Even if it’s at my own expense. This makes people crazy.
I like that.
Ambient noise disturbs me. A lot. I live for peace and quiet and silence in my living and work environment. The wind or the sound of someone breathing can make my skin crawl. Someone whistling in a grocery store (or anywhere else for that matter) will make me consider Hari-Kari. My next-door neighbors should have learned by now that my stereo system can out trump theirs by decibels.
Please don’t make me prove it again.
I have an Asperger’s sense of taste and smell and sound, too. (Read above). If you gave me a 200-gallon vat of soup with 1/9 of an ounce of goat cheese in it, I would discern the goat cheese. And gag. I despise goat cheese.
I’m extremely compartmentalized and very private. The thought of being owned (even to the extent of someone knowing where I am and what I’m doing every minute of the day) makes my skin crawl. I like my freedom. I need my freedom. I may say that I’ll be out or away just to buy myself some more alone time.
I own stock in it.
Like Joan H., bad hygiene is a huge turnoff for me. I look at teeth, nails and grooming. Very closely. And habits. If I catch it once and it makes my hair stand on end, I look for it again. I anticipate it. If I see it (or worse, smell it) it becomes a deal breaker (in terms of a relationship).
I get my teeth cleaned four times a year and don’t trust people who don’t floss. Or drink coffee.
I will not drink Starbucks unless it is the only choice.
I feel the experience of life deeply and value justice more than just about everything else. I swallow much and spew little. I think that’s why I am an artist and writer. Both creative outlets serve as conduits to express what I’m feeling without necessitating confrontation. I like peace. My own, and everyone else’s. But not at someone else’s judicial expense. Even my lawyer friends are scared of me when I get outraged.
And they should be.
I’m a germaphobe. Not quite as bad as Jerry Seinfeld or the guy who hosts the game show with the briefcases full of money (what’s his name again?), but I’m pretty anal retentive. I can identify the next person who will give me a cold as the germs enter my airspace.
I remember almost everything. This is not always good.
Especially for the person who gives me my next cold.
I do not trust easily but am easily taken for a fool and willing to go out on a limb when and where others are not. I think of myself as compassionate and want to believe what people tell me. Until I find out otherwise.
I’ve learned the hard way.
I’m still learning.
I will likely be a student forever.
I’m a fool for romance and love. I have discovered with time, that these two things are generally not mutually exclusive. That they are often not found in the same room has been disappointing.
Thank God I can still check in somewhere else.
I wipe down everything in a hotel. Including my own past.
I’m obsessed with stray hair. Especially if it is on my body and in particular, on my face. Yikes! I am on very good terms with my tweezers.
I rarely if ever, watch TV.
I conduct my life and live it by a set of rules that can be maddening for others. They conform to few “normal” standards. In certain situations, the rules may change so that I can achieve a desired outcome for the benefit of somebody else, but not for myself.
Nobody screws someone I care about.
If only I could apply that strength and fortitude internally, I would learn to take better care of me. Maybe, so would everyone else.
But I doubt it.
I trust few people.
I'm as flawed as they come.