An Idiosyncractic Affair

My good friend Sinibloggi recently referenced a William and Mary admissions essay prompt which asks students to creatively introduce themselves through a stream-of-consciousness activity. The student responses were so entertaining I thought I would attempt one myself. Here you go:

It is not easy to sum up one’s cleverness with a glimpse at her quirks. However, I’m known to possess a fastidious adulation for the written or spoken word, so I’ll give it a try.

In an effort to avoid hyperbole, I will say that I have spent what equates to at least 3 months of my life dreaming myself into the lead role of a Broadway, community, or high school musical. I’m a self-taught master of tap, jazz, and ballet dancing. As a young girl I would hole up in my room for hours (under the guise of organization) while Mariah Carey hit the high notes and I rehearsed. No one has ever seen me (that I know of) perform these amazing feats of dance, but trust me, I’m pretty good. I may have fallen down a few times in the shower practicing, but they say the road to success is paved with small, slippery missteps.

Which brings me to another point: I often misquote clichés. But let’s not go down that gopher hole, we could be here all day. The writing’s on the board, but sometimes I can’t see the forest for the rodents.

I want to be healthy so badly! I want to be that woman who wears spandex pants like there’s no next week and eats yogurt for a snack. By choice, not necessity (like if yogurt were the only snack left on the planet). Alas, I hate yogurt. And I love candy. And TV. Need I say more?

I bite my fingernails and (I’m SO embarrassed admitting this) I pick my toenails when I read. Every night before I go to bed I pick out my clothes for the next day. If I don’t, I will be in a bad mood, never fail. You don’t want to be married to me on those days.

I have a bottle of lemon juice in my fridge that expired in 2007, yet I maintain that it is still good. Something about how acid defrays the effects of fermentation. It has moved with me to a new house twice. I used it just recently and haven’t gotten sick, so there. Stick that in your cup and drink it.

Once, in college, I bleached a large streak of hair that fell across my forehead. The bleach didn’t set long enough, I looked like a Bengal tiger, and have feared hair color ever since.

In my household, I fulfill the role of Chief Disciplinarian, Canine Division. This job includes monitoring furniture usage and human food distribution between toddlers/babies/husbands and german shepards. I am very strict. But sometimes, when no one is looking, I let the dog lick my ice cream bowl.

And typos—ugg! Don’t get me started. I hate them in a book or on a test my students took. I do not like them on a box. I want to erase them with my socks. I cannot stand them on a bus, not even whilst talking to a guy named Gus. I wish I knew a guy named Gus.

I take up and put down hobbies like it's always in style. Often I will produce one round of the desired product, then move on to another, more interesting task. These hobbies have included, but are not limited to: painting (this lasted the longest); sewing stockings (this one ended mid-course when I lost the stockings for two years, then picked back up when I found them last December); sewing baby blankets (one round); knitting cute children's hats (I threw myself whole-heartedly into this task, learning as much as I could via the internet, then never got around to buying yarn); and gardening (I'll be honest, I really haven't done more than think about this one).

I’ve birthed two children and run (part of) a half marathon, but still hold on to the moment when, in a conference, a college professor I was madly in love with told me he “envied my ability to write the end.” That may have been the proudest moment of my life. The one that takes the taco.