(I believe that is the number 8 in Cantonese)
Continuing the epic quest towards 100....
#60- Besides being an avid sleeptalker (see fact #17), I also have an odd tendency to tie in what I have worn to bed into my dream. This means for a near recurrent "naked in public" dream, with several variations, such as "giant t-shirt and no pants at the mall" or "slinky nightgown on the bus". A few nights ago, I actually got up at 3am, and, in a half-asleep stupor, put on more clothes, because I was convinced that a friend was sleeping on a cot in our bedroom and was very uncomfortable by my berdoom attire.
#61- I am a little jealous of those with a strong ethnic identity, as I feel a little disconnected with mine. My mother's side is a sort of generic Western European, with very little family legend emerging from it. My father is French-- Acadian to be exact. The Acadians have a fascinating story, in which, when the English beat the French for the rights to Canada, they decided to deport countless Acadians from their homes in the Maritimes. Of course, in those days, it was never as simple as requesting a move. It was burning down homes and separating people from their families. The majority of those who were deported ended up in Louisiana, where they became known as Cajun. My side of the family remained in Canada, to much oppression for a long time.
It is odd how little known this is, even within Canada. When the mistreatment of the French is brought up, Quebec is automatically assumed. Few people are even aware of the Acadians unique cultural traditions and history. Unfortunately, given that I grew up on the opposite side of the country from my Acadian family, I know little more about their culture than I just wrote. I speak fluent French, but could not name off more than a few Acadian dishes, and one or two writers. This somehow seems wrong to me, as though I am missing a part of myself.
#62- Everyone once a while, I feel a little dismayed about how infrequently I speak French, and how much my skills are diminishing as a result. To assuage these fears, I will then set to naming everything in my immediate proximity in French. Next, I will move on to whole categories of items. For instance, on a recent bus ride home, I tried to describe everything I saw via my French internal monologue, then moved onto naming every body part I could think of ("orteille, pied..... yeux, cheveux"). There is something reassuring about remembering how to says something as obscure as microwave popcorn, and even more delicious to feel the accent rolling across my lips every so often.
#63- I have 12th row tickets to see Madonna in October! My 8-year old self, 14-year old self, and my present-day self are simultaneously squealing. I did pay an absurd chunk of cash, honestly, but Madonna is such a cultural icon to me as a girl who grew up in the 80s. I hardly even listen to her new music, but she remains my #1 act I wanted to see live. And this is the first time she's ever came to my city! (She hasn't been too chummy with Canada ever since we threatened to arrest her for diddling herself on stage... I love the fact that I just said diddling).
Also great? I'm seeing my #2 act this summer- Radiohead!!!
#64- In elementary school, I was a proud member of the ephemeral (lasting only a week or so), but still legendary, Hi-Tops-- a lip-sync group. The highlight of our brief existence? Lip-syncing "Moni Moni" by Billy Idol in front of our entire school. I, sadly, was relegated to back-up singer status. It did give me an excuse to look super streamlined and slick in my black spandex pants, though.
#65- With regards to romantic relationships, I am either completely single, or completely taken. (There was a two months in which I tried "dating" in my first year of college, and found out that telling a guy you didn't want a relationship meant that he got really huffy when you wouldn't put out.) This is not necessarily something intentional on my part-- I've never been one of those girls who desperately needed a boyfriend or to hurry the "what are we" relationship talk. I guess, as a general rule, I may just be good girlfriend material.
#66- I was a Trekkie in junior high. My best friend and I would meet at my house every weekday at 4pm to watch Star Trek: The Next Generation, and plot our wedding to Lieutenant Riker. I made my friends go see "Star Trek: Generations" for my 13th birthday, and even wrote a fan letter to Brent Spiner, who played Data, asking for his autograph (tragically, he never wrote back). All this was of course completely disavowed and denied when I turned 14, and discovered that boys liked me more when I wore make-up and didn't talk about the Enterprise.
#67- I hate the fact that I can't stand the taste of beer. I accept a can every year or so, with the hope that those same taste buds that have resulted in a newfound love for asparagus will also have matured to the flavours of hops and barley... but each time, I find myself wincing and burping through the entire can, eventually sneaking to the bathroom to pour the now-warm swill down the drain.
It just feels like such a high maintenance characteristic. I can't merely accept what someone has in the fridge or hop in on a group pitcher. I'm no fun at beer gardens. I need to buy the correct proportions of mix and liquor before I go to parties (and, yes, I can do coolers & ciders, if need be, but too many Bacardi Breezers make me feels as though I am 17 and really need to go to the dentist). Even worse is the fact that I really, really like girlie drinks-- the more umbrellas the better. I will actually purposefully not order a pina colada or a glass of riesling on many occasions, just because I know I've already lost points for not partaking in the ale guzzling, and I will lose many more if I ask to see a drink list.