I am 22 years old, unemployed, living at home, and withering under the disappointment of my parents. When I am not writing in my comfort zone, my tone becomes an uncomfortable patois of misused academic language and crusty-dry humor. I rely on self-deprecation and meta-analysis.
I keep the curly hair I inherited from my mother close-cropped. I dislike shaving because it gives me ingrown hairs. I can run four miles in under half an hour and I have a half-hearted desire to run a half-marathon. I am 5' 8", but the good posture I inherited from my mother gives me additional inches in a world of slouchers. I am a late-comer or absentee to most fashion trends - wrapped in my blue hoodie, I missed out on the year of the peacoat. In my wardrobe, form follows function. I am still chasing a six-pack, but I have developed a pretty respectable V-cut.
I began drinking coffee black after giving it up for Lent. Once, after breaking up with a girl, I became a vegetarian. This is a continual habit: I decide that some aspect of my life needs changing and pursue the change stubbornly. I went back to eating meat when I started dating again. I didn't drink until I turned 21, but I find it hard to give the same explanation twice. I pick my nose and I have never eaten a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
I began to learn the guitar this summer. I played piano until eleventh grade and I regret giving it up. I can still play one or two songs from muscle memory. After a guest a cappella group performed at an assembly in 9th grade, I began beatboxing. I do it unconsciously now, and it looks like I'm muttering to myself. I know all the words to "All Star," "Lose Yourself," and "Jump Around." I like Guitar Hero more without the microphone.
When I walk on pavement, I like to take two steps in each square: first the right foot, then the left. I ascend stairs two at a time. I scrape the roof of my mouth with my tongue and scrape my tongue against the orthodontal bar set behind my bottom teeth. I learned the "bro-snap" late in life and I'm making up for lost time.
People say the Disney character I resemble most is Lefou, Gaston's long-suffering sidekick. When we are discussing spirit animals, no one knows what to say about me. When I was little, my hair drew comparisons to Kramer from Seinfeld. The nicest thing anyone has said about my writing is that it can sound like David Sedaris' (this is not one of those times). I still don't understand the comparisons with Max Stossel. I've never seen Twin Peaks, but two of my friends say I act like Agent Cooper.
I've never gotten in a fist fight or had a broken bone. Blood doesn't make me squeamish but needles and things going into eyes do. I fear spiders more than bears or sharks. I hate the sensation of clipping my nails and then gripping packing foam. I sleep on my stomach but nap on my back. I'm allergic to cats - they make my eyes itch.
I get sentimental really quickly.
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