a butcher, a baker and a hairdresser with a razor

When Matt and I met, I had long hair. I don’t anymore. I briefly tried to grow it back out, but the nice lady who cut my hair decided to give me a “sexy” haircut instead (i.e., she cut three inches off and used her evil razor to bald me).

I’ve been thinking lately about a few of my psychological issues. I do inexplicable things, and I feel like looking at pictures of spilled ink would help.

  • For some reason, white chocolate and mozzarella cheese are connected in my head (just a stab, but I think it’s the color). When I am grocery shopping or looking at food recipes, I think that I don’t like mozzarella cheese–but I do like mozzarella cheese, it’s white chocolate that I don’t like. It’s weird that I can’t keep them straight.
  • I can’t cut/divide anything exactly in half. I cut/divide things exactly the same just-off-half way every time. No matter how hard I try. It’s kind of creepy. If you stack two sandwiches on top of each other after I cut them, they have the EXACT same proportions of one slightly larger piece and one slightly smaller piece. Even when I try not to, it still happens.
  • My mother-in-law is in almost every single one of my dreams, she has been since I met her. I don’t even dream about my own parents, but she’s always there doing stuff with me.
  • I can’t do simple addition or subtraction. I mean, elementary stuff–can’t do it. My brain shuts down and I just end up thinking really hard about nothing. Multiplication, division, quadratic equations, geometric proofs I can do wonderfully (well, I could once). Just now, to add 5 and 9 I had to use the fingers on my left hand to come up with 14, twice.
  • I really don’t like my the separate food items on my plate to touch before I’m digesting them. I really, really don’t.
  • I can’t eat soggy bread. It makes me sick to think about.
  • I never drink the very last little bit out of a glass. It grosses me out.
  • A lot of house plants and inside pets gross me out too. I start to itch and feel dirty thinking about them.
  • I had to borrow a pen from a girl at church on Sunday because I had left mine in the car. She generously allowed me to use her blue pen all day. I couldn’t use it. I wrote 1/4 of a page before I tucked it away. I only use black pens, and I had a hard time defiling my all-black notebook with blue. Literally, all-black, every page, every notebook (which is many). I’m not gothic or emo or whatever, I’m just meticulous about my notebooks.
  • My left hand is almost pointless. I rely on my right hand for just about everything, however, I type better and faster with my left hand.
  • I am a creature of severe habit (in case the black pen thing didn’t tip you off). I take the same route to school every day, I sit in the exact same seat in class (even when I have a class in the same room that I had a class in 4 years ago, I sit in the same place), I walk the same route to my classes (even if I discover there is a shorter one later), I sit at the same two rows of computers at the computer lab in the library every time I go (which is daily).

A picture of me with long hair (I promise I wasn’t in middle school when this was taken):

  • amanda

    you are the most interesting person I have ever met.