Confession the First: My lucky number is thirteen. Or any combination of ones, threes, or multiples of three, really. The reasons for this are manifold- well, actually, they are just one, but that one is complicated. Suffice it to say the reason involves my late older brother. But I always take three chips, three cookies, or even three shakes of salt on my couscous; sometimes it verges on the obsessive-compulsive. Thus, thirteen shall be the number of the confessions. Twelve shall I not confess, unless I then proceed to thirteen. Fifteen is right out. (Alright, enough Monty Python references. Pardon me.)
Confession the Second: I have "ninja" Tourette Syndrome. It was fairly serious when I was first diagnosed in second grade, but has improved drastically since. Most people don't know until I tell them- or even notice thereafter.
Confession the Third: I try to eat things as slowly as possible. I've been known to eat oranges one juice-pocket at a time; "two-bite" brownies can last six bites if I'm careful. What can I say? Food is meant to be savored.
Confession the Fourth: I hate driving. Rolling along at dangerous speeds in a tangle of metal, putting poison into the air, and praying the maniacs around you don't cause your death- some people find this fun?
Confession the Fifth: I am a serial jaywalker. Somehow, I live with myself.
Confession the Sixth: The more tired I am, the more irrational and confrontational I become. If you come at me when I haven't slept in a long while, be prepared to argue over whether the sky is blue. In addition, my speech becomes more modern and I walk more on my whole foot (as opposed to walking on the balls of my feet, as usual).
Confession the Seventh: I love Lady Gaga; she's one of the few popular, modern musicians whose work doesn't make me want to become a hermit.
Confession the Eighth: I sing constantly. Not just in the shower, but while getting dressed, doing my homework, reading, drawing, writing, walking down the street, etc. I've never had formal voice training and my singing isn't spectacular, but I enjoy it.
Confession the Ninth: Marzipan is my drug of choice. Mark me, I'll someday be on the news as the first mother arrested for child neglect who spent all her money on marzipan assortments.
Confession the Tenth: As a child, I was obsessed with Brittney Spears. I wanted to enter a contest to win tickets (with backstage passes) to her show; thus, there is a video somewhere of six-year-old me singing "Baby, One More Time." If anyone finds it, please let me know so I can have it destroyed.
Confession the Eleventh: I dream of someday attending a masquerade ball. Not just a party with a masquerade theme, but a proper ball with fancy decorations, live music, old-fashioned dances, and pimped-out dresses. If you've ever seen the 1986 movie "Labyrinth" with David Bowie and Jennifer Connelly...yeah. Something like that.
Confession the Twelfth: Modern technology drives me insane. I loathe Facebook, most i-gadgets, and Twitter. Especially Twitter. Once I get out of jail for marzipan-fueled child neglect, I'll get thrown in again for attempting to hack into the Twitter servers and shut it down. And yet, in the face of this technophobia, I'm a bit of an Internet addict. You figure it out.
Confession the Thirteenth: I will probably never have the attention span to write a novel. Oh, I talk about my works-in-progress, and I'd like to get a book published, but I can't keep my mind on one plot and one set of characters for more than two months. Maybe someday...
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