Fifty things about me, part 4

Part one. Part two. Part three. Part five. Part six.

Readers, it has been nearly a year since my last Fifty Things post. I blame, uh, me.

26. I love kids. I like them from the age of one day all the way up to their twenties (yes, I still consider many twentysomethings kids, especially the ones still in or just out of college). I find them infinitely interesting and amusing in all of their stages. They like me, too. I’ve always treated children as adults-in-training, which is to say: I never speak down to kids. They know when you do it, and believe me when I tell you that the minute your back is turned, they are mocking you for it. And I’ve always been able to relate to teenagers. I’ve never really forgotten what it was like being one of them.

27. I couldn’t stand kids when I was in my teens and early twenties. I didn’t like being around them, and after one miserable attempt at babysitting for which I am still ashamed (I hit a four-year-old girl because I didn’t know any other way to make her behave, and I was imitating what I had learned), I gave up babysitting. I think it was because I didn’t really know what to do back then. When my childhood friend’s son, who was the first baby I knew as an adult, learned to walk, I spent days following him around making sure he didn’t fall. Now, at Sarah’s, I just look over, check for blood, and ignore the child if there’s no red stuff.

28. I hate mushy food. I can’t stand oatmeal, Jell-O, or anything that you can’t chew, with the exception of ice cream. I can eat pudding in small amounts, but I will take a dish of chocolate ice cream over pudding any day of the week. All I can say is: It’s a good thing I wasn’t born in a Dickens novel. Too much porridge.

29. I went through a Dickens phase in high school. I read most of the Dickens section in the school library. I also went through a Kipling phase, a Bronte phase, a Jules Verne phase, a Vonnegut phase … you get the picture. When I like an author, I read all of his or her books.

30. I like to reread books that I like. If it’s a particularly special author, such as Patricia McKillip, I read her new book slowly, to savor it, then reread it immediately afterward to impress it in my memory and appreciate it more. If you have never read Patricia McKillip, you are missing one of the greatest fantasy authors alive. I recommend The Alphabet of Thorn, which I think is her best work, to start.

31. In spite of what you may think since when reading this site, I am an optimist. I generally see the glass half-full. I believe in happy endings, even, though I know they’re few and far between.

32. Speaking of happy endings: I watch televison and movies for sheer escapism. I hate reality shows. They bore me to tears within a minute or two. I want my shows scripted, with a definite beginning, middle, and end. I want my characters to live (generally) happily ever after, or to have good triumph over evil, and I hate it when a character dies, even if I really didn’t care about that character to begin with. On the other hand, I also love a great dramatic show. China Beach was simply phenomenal, and Sisters was probably my favorite-ever nighttime soap (Teddy was my favorite). If you can give me a good reason to cry, I don’t mind that your show is sad. But not depressing. There is a huge difference. As for any kind of dance or song competition: Yawn. Wake me up when the CD is released. On the other hand, you can keep all your gory CSI shows. I really don’t need to watch yet another show about yet another serial killer, mass murderer, rapist, or pedophile. Ugh. How can you people watch all that crap? It makes me want to turn on the Teletubbies or something to cleanse my mental palate. Geez. Columbo did it so much better, and all they ever showed was a body with, like, no blood on it, ever.

Okay, I’m out of things to talk about for now. Two more posts ought to do it. I’ll try not to take another year to complete them.