Hello, all! It’s day 25 of the #30daywritingchallenge. The topic is Four Weird Traits that I have.
This has been a fun ride. We’ve learned so much about each other!
I have found that I have a soul sister in JC Wing. Perhaps we were separated at birth – five years apart. I don’t know. But it’s trippy as hell.
Do you know JC? She wrote about her traits today (of course). Check it here: JC’s Trait Article. Throughout the course of this, I’ve discovered that she and I have a lot in common. I suspected it, but hadn’t known how much.
All the more reason to soldier on and see what else we can learn!
So, four weird traits that make me who I am. Who gets to judge what’s weird? Sheesh. There’s a lot of judgement going on in this challenge. I hope the next 30 days aren’t like that …
“Siri, define ‘traits'”.
I like to ask Siri things because she calls me Ang (rhymes with Tang) when that’s just so not even close. I’ve tried to correct her, but the chick is determined to say it that way.
Trait:a distinguishing quality or characteristic, typically belonging to a person.
Ambidextrous I am right handed. I think. Every medical test I’ve done actually shows both hands and arms being within 3% in strength and dexterity. That’s uncommon.
More family lore/theory time. I had heart surgery as a child. They took one of the main veins from my left arm and used it. Mom’s theory is that I was born left handed and when they did that, Baby Ang retrained herself.
At family dinners to this day, they often put my drinking glass on the opposite side of the plate than the others. It’s helpful in tight dining quarters as I can use either hand to hold the fork or knife and not end up in an elbow battle with my neighbor.
I don’t write left-handed, though I could if I practiced. I used to. It’s just so damn inconvenient, what with the smeary ink and all. I do, however, use my left hand to do all those hard as hell things like putting on mascara, et cetera. I honestly thought everyone could do that until I was in my mid-20’s. I’m not as perceptive as I believe.
I bowl incorrectly because of this. Yes, there’s an incorrect way to bowl. When you step off the line, take your steps and swing – when you’re right handed, your left leg should be in front at your throw, to help with balance and power. I throw right-handed and my right leg is in front instead. It puts a backward curve on the ball and drives my brother crazy. We were on a league together and after a while, he refused to watch me do it because it would mess him up. It didn’t help that I used a really light ball that basically would hit the head pin, bounce back and then hit it again. Come to find out, I do the same thing in Wii Bowling.
Monkey Toes I have super long toes. I can use them to pick up almost anything. Pencils, quarters, dimes, clothes, socks, whatever. With my former flexibility, I could lift that stuff to waist level and cleaning the floor was a lot easier.
The cat chases my toes because of this. He thinks they’re this whole other part of me that plays with him because I toss his ball that way. Every now and again this will cause a disagreement.
Road Rage I know, I know. This is an awful thing to have. Mine’s more humorous than anything.
I am one of the most loving people out there. I even love the people I hate, I guess. I may not like them but I don’t necessarily want anything bad to happen to them. I can cheerlead for people and mean it because I want everyone to have a great life, they deserve it, or at least another chance to find it.
Until I get into a car. Then everyone should die. Painfully.
I am a safe driver. I’m not tailgating people while I yell at them. I believe in safe following distances and driving in a predictable fashion to prevent accidents. But that doesn’t stop my super creative mouth.
Sometimes My Companion will bust a gut in the passenger seat. I’ll look over and it’ll be some insult I just threw at some poor bastard that forgot to use their turn signal. I’ve created new words, which I will not share here because they are NAUGHTY.
Cameras Hate Me Even when I know the photo is about to be taken … it just doesn’t matter. 85% of the time my eyes will be closed or my mouth will be open or my hands will be at this awkward angle that make me look like a witch. Or it will be one of the few times I have a beer in my hand. I swear to God I don’t drink often but if you look at family photos you’d think I was a lush. I’ve gotten better about shoving the bottles behind my back but that does nothing for the eyes/mouth thing.
“Ang, you haven’t spoken or blinked in 20 minutes.”
Mumbles, “So and So has their camera pointed at *click* me… Goddammit!”