Kissing up, kissing a$$, whatever you want to call it, I’m not a fan even though I am someone who’s eager to please. I have my limits and would never stoop so low as to kiss someone’s behind to keep them happy.
There’s a lost dream somewhere – one where I had imagined myself as an adult, getting married, having children, living in one of those suburbs with identical houses – where did that dream go? Is it cheesy to think this dream would be my happily ever after?
I have been called a lot of things – mean, impatient, stubborn – but zealous isn’t one of them and upon reflecting, I have come to feel I can be zealous sometimes but a lot of the times, that zealousness got masked for impatience.
Whenever someone asks, “How do you pronounce your name?”, I would often tell them, “The ‘Y’ is silent and ‘lan’ is pronounced like Lana without the ‘a’ at the end.” Some will still say it wrong and it drives me absolutely off the wall. It really isn’t that hard.
According to this website, when someone says, “Oh, you’re a xenodochial,” it means you’re someone who’s friendly to strangers. I didn’t even know this word existed. I looked it up on dictionary.com, no such word.
“I dreamt you were an ax murderer,” I told my mom once. I think I was around eight or nine. She had immigrated to the U.S and began calling me every weekend. She laughed and I could feel her rolling her eyes on the other end of the line. To this day, she still reminded me of what I said whenever I tell her I’ve written a good story.
Some people are meant to lead. Some are meant to follow. I am and have always been a follower aka an underdog. I wrote about this in this 2016 post and nothing will ever change that, not my mom, not my aunt, not even Toastmasters.
I have Nyctophobia. It’s another word for an irrational fear of night or darkness. My brain and heart are fighting each other on this. My brain says this is an irrational fear but brain, can you please tell that to my heart when it’s thudding like a high-rhythmic beating drum when I’m in the dark?
I am pretty klutzy, period. My mom used to singsong “clumsy, clumsy girl” whenever I fell down as a little girl. I think I fell because my mind was somewhere else, at least that’s why I fell and scraped my knees the last time, which was about a year ago.