I hate cheese. I don’t know why, but the texture and smell has always grossed me out. One exception: pizza. And no, I don’t know why it’s okay with bread and tomato sauce, it just is.
My grandfather was a bracero. I never think about this, but it’s true. Craziness.
If I get good practice, I can solve a standard Rubik’s cube in under 90 seconds.
I was born at 19:41, on 29 May 1985. There’s nothing really special about this day, but I still pause every time I see the clock say 5:29.
I have one brother. I call him Paco because that’s his name. At least that’s what it should be. It sounds cool. I also, say the DNA tests, have two half-sisters and (update) another half-brother. Since I always round down, I’m going to live the rest of my life as if I only had one sibling.
My brother lives in Fayetteville, NC. I have no idea what he does for a living. I live in Durham, NC. While I don’t really get along with him, I’m nevertheless excited about living near him. We never see each other, though. I suppose that means something. (update) He just took a job in Florida, so I’ll probably get to see him even less from now on. (updated update) Now he lives in California. It is unlikely that this will last.
I didn’t go to a “good college” after high school because my parents begged, threatened, and bribed me not to. Apparently, they were having some serious marital difficulties at the time and couldn’t bear the thought of me leaving them alone.
I never learned my multiplication tables. I missed out on the grade that taught them: fourth grade. *sigh* I wonder what else I missed by skipping fourth grade.
I trained my clapping for two years. Now I can do what I call the ‘Sonic Clap,’ which deafens all children and puppies in the area… and not clap in any other way..
When I was ten, I thought about Superman and the movie Contact and wondered whether it was selfish for humans to assume that we were created in God’s image. It was a slippery slope from there.
I can count the number of people I’ve kissed on one hand. Then again, I know sign language, so I can count to 999 on one hand. It is more than 5, but it’s still a manageable number.
I’ve wanted to go away to college since sixth grade. Partly for that reason, I’ve gone on exchange twice and moved on a whim a few more times. I like to consider myself a nomad (but with better hair).
I once lost a job because of something I wrote on my blog. Specifically, I called someone’s mustache ‘mysterious’ in a way that would imply derision. If I could go back, I’d do it all over again, but have fun while doing it. It wasn’t fun the first time I went through with it, because it was my life and livelihood. Now it’s just a funny story.
I admit it, damn it. I voted for Nader in 2004. And you know what: I’d do it again. You know why? Because I vote as an exercise in absurdity, not to elect any particular person. (update) I voted for Obama in 2008. I don’t know how to justify this, because McCain was bad, but not nearly as terrible as Bush in 2004. I guess I just wanted to vote for somebody that would make me happy if they were elected, not the lesser of two evils. Next time, though, I’ll probably go back to voting for someone else.
I am a vegetarian. The last time I purposefully ate meat was Good Friday, 2004. I thought it was funny at the time.
My parents got me a leather jacket for my 17th birthday. I became a vegetarian at age 18. I still wear that jacket. And no, it’s not hypocritical, damn it.
When I was in high school, I would relentlessly tease a kid I couldn’t stand by giving him nicknames. I also teased people I really, really liked by giving them nicknames. The fact that I treated people I hated and people I liked in the same way always seemed schizophrenic, but it amused me just the same. I don’t do that anymore, because most of the people that still talk to me are people I feel neutral toward. I wonder if there’s any connection…
I once memorized pi to 1000 places. Actually, that’s not true, I memorized 20 places, then started making up numbers. Surprisingly, nobody called me on it.
I have superior powers of reasoning, oratory, mathematics, and most everything else. But don’t worry: I only use my powers for good, evil, and to show off.
I have a birthmark on my leg that’s more of a Rorcharch test than anything. I see the ghost of Mickey Mouse. What do you see?
My brother’s birthday is March 18 (today). He turns 26. I wish I’d started my 100 things about me four days earlier so that it would be coincidental. I once calculated that he was born 3 years, 2 months, 11 days, 1 hour, and 11 minutes before I was.1 To this day I repeat this statistic to anyone who cares. . . but I’ve yet to find anyone that cares.
About two days after the Columbine Massacre, I came to school wearing a trench coat. My psychology teacher got a kick out of it and took me to the principal’s office to ‘turn me in.’ Everyone laughed. Then, a class period later, security guards burst into my Spanish class and took me away. Apparently, a few of the students in the psychology class were disturbed by the event and really turned me in.
I’ve been doing a lot of research into incest recently, because it’s strange to me how ingrained our aversion to incest is, and how we always attempt to justify it by saying it’s just ‘icky’ or wrong. I’m also interested in the ‘moral’ and evolutionary psychology behind cannibalism, contamination, and religion. See Haidt, et al.
I think about going back to Australia every day. Every Day. And if I have to borrow the $2k to do it, I’ll do it. And this year.
I once tried to go a whole day in which everything I said was a lie. It was surprisingly difficult. Apparently there’s some things we say in day to day life that aren’t easily categorized as true or false. Curious.
I have scars on each wrist that look like I tried to kill myself with an ice pick. The true story, sadly, is far more lame.
I’m so bad at e-mail, it’s ridiculous. Today I e-mailed my friend Steve in response to an e-mail he sent exactly ONE YEAR AGO. I swear I’ll get better at it someday, but I’m too much of a perfectionist to send any trite prose, so sometimes I send nothing at all.
I was single from January 1, 2002 until November 12, 2005. That’s 46.35 months. After that, I realized that I don’t know if I can trust anyone who doesn’t know what it’s like to be alone. I think being able to stand yourself for any amount of time is key to being mature, and self-reliant enough to bring something to a relationship. But then, I’m hardly an expert on relationships.
Senior year, I tricked my parents into getting me a cell phone by pretending I didn’t want one as a “leash.” About three days after they ’surprised’ me with it, I lost it. Apparently I switched it with a Mountain Dew while reaching into the cooler. When I did finally find it, I dried all the parts, put it back together and charged it. Then I kept that phone for years… I miss that phone.
I refused to keep a resume until I graduated from college. I sort of regret that now. I look much, much worse on paper than I do in real life.
I sometimes shave my legs. I think it’s a bit hypocritical to demand women do it, but not be willing to do it myself. Besides, I think most body hair is disgusting. (update: I also pluck my eyebrows.)
I pretend to be a guy who pretends to be all sorts of things that I really am. It’s like being a guy who dresses up as a woman dressing up as a man. For instance, I bombastically claim to know a lot about typeface (which seems like I’m making fun of a caricature of myself) yet actually do know a lot about type. It’s a game I play to make something true sound false and vice versa. Meta enough for you?
I did not get drunk until I was 20. And to this day, I’ve probably only gotten tipsy a dozen times or so. (update: this is a lie)
I’ve been to 33 states in the U.S., 10 in Mexico, and 1 in Australia. I still haven’t visited Canada, but that’ll have to wait until Moof asks me. (update: 36 states in the US now, 3 in Australia)
I’ve worn the same leather jacket day-in and day-out since I was 17. I even had to get it repainted and redone once.
I only applied to one college after high school, because I knew I wouldn’t be able to afford anything other than a state school. I also applied to only one scholarship. Luckily, I got it and didn’t have to pay for any college. I’m beginning to think I maybe could have done that elsewhere…
I’m told (by the mirror) that my pupils are chronically dilated. I was once told that this means that I have an excess of Seratonin in my system, but I never bothered to verify if this was true (I doubt that it is). I just took it as fact and repeated it whenever the subject came up.
I learned to read when I was four because my mom was teaching my brother how to read and I wanted her to pay attention to me. Every time I hear that story, I’m astounded at how little has changed.
No matter where I go, I always have to carry something with me, usually in the form of a binder, book, or backpack. When I was a kid, I used to carry two books everywhere: in case i was ever trapped anywhere and finished one. That never happened. Now I carry three: just in case I don’t feel like reading two of them.
I didn’t start listening to music until I was in high school. Before that, I honestly could not have told you the difference between rock and rap, classical and metal. (Name wise, I probably could have identified them with some practice.) I mean, I was lame. I’m still not much of a music listener, I listen to podcasts more than anything, but at least I know what I like now.
When I was 14, I began my own “Newsletter.” I did it because blogs didn’t exist yet, I didn’t have an Internet connection, I was underage, and I wanted to make people laugh. So I created a four-page document that eventually became a biweekly viewspaper. It was eventually called the Pix Capacitor… just in case you were wondering what the .com meant.
I type in the Dvorak keyboard. I taught myself how a few months ago and haven’t looked back (or down) since.
I’ve driven across the country 8 times. On 7 of those occasions, I had nobody accompany me. Several of those trips involved 12 hours of driving or more at any given time. Four were all in one go. It is a mind-altering experience to spend 33 solid hours driving. I wasn’t the same person on January 4, 2004 as I was on January 6.
I don’t know if I’ve ever bought my own clothes. I’ve bought dress shirts in the past five years, but other than that, most of my clothes are just gifts, give-aways, or old clothes my mom gave me.2
I sometimes worry that I’ll get to the point where I won’t be able to relate to anyone without a tertiary education level or a finely-tuned sense of ironic irreverence. It seems that the amount of awkward silences between my mother and me have increased exponentially since I stopped pooping in my diapers when I was 14.
I don’t know when I’m joking half the time. Seriously. My brain works on an ironic gear, so sometimes I say funny things or say things in an amused tone of voice, but have no idea I’m doing it. I once tried to explain this to someone and they thought it was “trippy.”
I don’t have any grandmothers left. My mom’s mum hanged herself when my mommy was 6 and my dad’s mum died of the diabetes when I was four. Actually, it happened just a few weeks before this picture was taken:
When I was 12, I thought I wanted to be a computer programmer or computer engineer, because I liked computers. A year later, I didn’t know what I wanted to be, but I knew I hated programming and I wanted to do something more creative. My entire extended family still talks about this as if I let them down by not becoming a professional scientist/engineer/smart guy. It’s almost been ten years and they talk about it as if I dropped out of a doctoral program at Oxford to join the Carnival. WTF.
I have asthma now, but apparently I don’t in the future. What the Flip?
When I was a kid, my brother and I would have coloring contests. Then we started having drawing contests. He always beat me (on the count that he was three years older). As a direct result, I stopped drawing all together.
I have a very naturalistic outlook on life. For instance, I believe morality, identity, emotions, and consciousness are all evolutionary jerry rigs. If you’re at all interested, I’ll explain a few of those eventually. Trust me, the topic is fascinating.
I usually wear jackets. Even during the summer. It’s not because I have a body temperature, I just really like having lots of pockets. One of these days I’ll design pants with lots of pockets for whatever ‘cargo’ I might carry. I think I’ll call them ‘pocket pants.’
The first novel I ever read was ‘Sphere.’ After that, I was into sci fi for quite a while. I don’t know what I like anymore.
When I was 14, I was a chronic liar. I couldn’t seem to stop myself from saying stupid stuff (I won’t give any examples, because they’re embarrassing). I’m over that now. (That’s a lie.)3
I don’t believe in towels. I mean, I believe they exist, but I can’t get myself in the habit of using them. What’s the need? All of my clothes are made of cotton, not Rubidium!
I started writing microfiction when I was 13, because I couldn’t find enough time to finish any longer stories. So I just ended them after a few hundred words. But it wasn’t until I was 18 that I realized it was a legit strategy and not until I was 20 that I coined the term “necroautobiographical microfiction.”
Most of the things I know (that I’m good at) are self-taught. This makes my CV look far sparser than I really am. For instance, I never took a graphic design class, but I was a graphic designer for a few years. I haven’t taken a bio class in eight years, but I can show I know enough to be a grad student at the No. 1 philosophy of biology university in the world.
One of my secret shames is that I sometimes go to Hastings or Barnes and Noble and read all of the new comics without buying them. I sometimes buy the compilations and graphic novel versions, but $3.99 seems like far too much to pay for a 20-page comic book.
When I was in middle school, I was part of the science club. We would go to different sciency places in New Mexico every Saturday of the semester. I still think about those trips every time I go anywhere with people, or buy cheap orange juice, or eat Wal-Mart donuts. In fact, two of my current best friends were people I got to know on those trips.
When I was in high school, I always had to have four pockets for my four objects of necessity: my wallet, my keys, my cell phone, and my camera. Then I upgraded cameras in 2003 to a camera that couldn’t fit in my pocket and I stopped taking pictures. Also, it broke and I didn’t have the $400 to buy another one.
Every time I go somewhere, I have to carry books, a laptop, a notebook, or anything else. I have to. It’s my way to never forget stuff: I just make sure there’s always something to remember.
My parents once promised me a new video game if I placed in the top 5 in a local spelling bee. I did not, but lied and said I placed sixth, hoping they would give me some leeway. They did not. I was impressed, but insulted. Also, after this story took place, my teacher, Rosangela “Espiritu Santo” Rogers asked me to lie to everyone and tell them I’d won the Spelling Bee. Yeah, she didn’t belong in the education system.
After my brother joined the military, my mother began forcing my father and I to go to church as part of a ‘family activity.’ They bribed, lied, and cheated to get me to go. So I went, reluctantly. It’s funny, because at the time, I hadn’t been a Catholic in 6 years, so my going there only served to drive us further apart as I reacted like a teenager and sulked.
Even though I usually get in the 99th percentile in standardized tests (both academic and IQ), I don’t believe in standardized tests. At all. They don’t measure anything except for how well the participant can study for them. Believe me, I’ve boosted my scores by hundreds of points at a time without increasing my intelligence or scholarly aptitude in any way. This, of course, means that No Child Left Behind was based on a false premise. Sorry nation’s youth.
I drive a white 2003 Honda Civic Hybrid. My parents got it for me after high school so that I would stay in New Mexico. It claims to get 47 miles to the gallon, but it really only gets about 40. The mileage meter lies to me.
Whenever I hear that people voted for Bush in 2004, I sort of lose a little bit of respect for them. Wasn’t there enough information out by then for everyone to have made an informed decision? *sigh*
I sometimes start projects knowing I’ll never finish them. But I’ve haven’t fallen through on a promise since the last millennium.
I tricked my parents into getting me a cell phone senior year by pretending to not want one while giving them reasons I should have one. Then, the day after I got it, I accidentally left it inside an ice chest where it promptly short circuited. I had to take it apart, dry, and charge it before it would work again. I sort of miss that phone now.
Every year since high school, my friends and I walk across ‘the gap’ in the mountain. We’ve grown to hate the tradition in the past seven years. After college, I’m thinking a ‘drinking’ tradition is in order.
Every male member of my extended family (on both sides) can grow awesome facial hair. My brother and I, however, cannot. It’s embarrassingly frustrating.
My home town is not incorporated, but some estimates put us between 10,000 and 25,000 people. I also live about ten minutes from El Paso, Texas and a half an hour from the Mexican border. So I’ve grown up with a very weird sense of identity.
I sometimes wonder what constitutes a ‘kiss’ or a ‘first time’ or ‘taboo in most cultures.’ I wonder about this for reasons that I’ll take to my grave… unless you read this and choose to e-mail me.
I went into college as a Journalism major and graduated as a journalism major, but I never had any illusions of desiring to be a journalist.
I’ve kept a digital diary since Sunday, November 19, 2000. Nobody will ever read it, but it’s really whiny and tells a lot of secrets that I’ll take to my grave. I’d delete it, but it sort of reminds me of how far I’ve come: now I whine to the world.
My parents immigrated to the United States in 1987. As a direct result, I sort of want to thwack people whenever they talk about immigration (illegal or otherwise). Frankly, there are very few people I consider qualified to talk about the subject in any in-depth way.
I twice had long(ish) hair. I claim I’ve had red, yellow, and pink hair, but most of the time I’m exaggerating. (We had no idea what we were doing at the time.)
I’ve needed glasses since I was in fifth grade, but I didn’t get them for eight months because my mom couldn’t believe that her darling son didn’t have perfect vision. How F’ed up is that?
My circle of friends hasn’t really changed since middle school. This alone makes me want to leave New Mexico.
I’m a really, really bad vegetarian: I basically hate vegetables. If boca burgers didn’t exist, I think I’d’ve died by now.
I’ve gone to the ER far more times than I’d care to remember. But I’ve never stayed overnight at a hospital. Doctors scare me.
I get really into board games. This is probably a bad thing. Actually, I get into games really easily. I just get tired of them as soon as I beat them. That’s probably not a bad thing.
I worry I share too much. I also don’t worry that I share too much. But it turns out I rarely worry about sharing the right things at the right times.
I wore braces all of senior year in high school and into my first semester of college. I don’t know why, though, because my teeth were never that bad. I guess I just wanted to fit in.
I’m afraid of waiters, secretaries, and janitors. Seriously. They have so much power over such a small area of your life that I fear angering them.
I am a citizen of the world, but only two countries recognize my nationality: Mexico and the U.S. So weird.
When I was 14 I made a conscious decision to be honest and stop making up stories. As a direct result, I’ve become a terrible, terrible liar.
I’ve never made more than $7 an hour… yeah, I was getting ripped off for years, then I graduated and couldn’t find a job I liked or that paid well. I’m ashamed of that.
I am not competitive by nature. By which I mean I am, I just win all the time, so I have to pretend I’m not.
My head is a perfect sphere, to counteract this, I cut my hair in a very top-heavy way. Also, I grow facial hair… all three and a half whiskers of it.
Apparently, when things get serious in an interpersonal/emotional way, I respond by telling jokes. I’m not emotionally unavailable— honest!— I just think that many times these trains of thought make people sad, so I have to constantly pull over so that the engine doesn’t overheat. Also, I explain things in metaphor.
I was never a very black & white kind of person, but I definitely believed there were fewer shades of grey. I guess getting older has taught me that most things can be explained if you’re just willing to listen.
My favorite books of all time: Ender’s Game, The Count of Monte Cristo, the Little Prince. I like them for different reasons: I can identify with a 12-year-old that was manipulated into xenocide (Ender’s Game), I really admire people that can get things done and who do what they say they’ll do (The Count of Monte Cristo), and I like lilliputian monarchs (Prince Charles).
I cannot imagine the future, at all. I can’t even think of myself in two weeks: my mind just goes blank. This has been going on since I turned 21 and realized I was probably going to become an adult after all. I’d say that I would eventually write a post to talk about this, but I just can’t imagine that post ever actually being written.
I chose the wrong career. Twice. But I’ve never been blindsided by this. Jobs and money were just never important enough for me to care that I was heading in the wrong direction… that probably explains why I’m sleeping on an air mattress tonight.
Every two years, I get really into politics. I care a lot, but as I hate arguing with people, I tend not to say anything. I sometimes fear I’ve gotten too lax about people throwing out their beliefs. I only ever speak up if people contradict themselves (which happens surprisingly often).
I have no middle name, but the middle letters of my first and last name are “arlo” “arisca.” That amuses me because it over emphasizes the a’s.
With the 1 hour and 11 minutes purely made up. [↩]
What I mean is my mom still buys me clothes. Fine! (update: this is no longer true.) [↩]
It is more than 5, but it’s still a manageable number.
I have a birthmark on my leg that’s more of a Rorcharch test than anything. I see the ghost of Mickey Mouse. What do you see?
I don’t have any grandmothers left. My mom’s mum hanged herself when my mommy was 6 and my dad’s mum died of the diabetes when I was four. Actually, it happened just a few weeks before this picture was taken:
