Schmutzie has very kindly invited me to participate in something called a meme.
Here are the rules, which I am supposed to post:
Six Things/Habits/Quirks About Steph
1) I keep a poop calendar for an unidentified member of my family. (That is, he is identified to me but not to you. He's already got a lot to discuss with his future therapist and he's only two years old. Whoops.) On this poop calendar, I record the frequency, the timing, and the consistency of the poop. I have been instructed to do this by a medical professional. Sometimes I forget to do this, for as long as a week at a time. This makes me feel horribly guilty. So then I make up imaginary poops with which to fill in the calendar. This doesn't really make me feel less guilty. But at least the calendar looks nicely filled in. This poop calendar keeping is not something I ever imagined I would one day find myself doing.
2) I have always had a great deal of difficulty imagining my future. The first instance of this happened when I was in the fifth grade and the teacher asked us to calculate how old we would be in the year 2000 and then to imagine what we would be doing with our lives then. I got stuck on the math part. I never did figure out how old I would be in the year 2000 and so I never really got around to the "what would I be doing" part. Interestingly, I just now realized that I can't remember how old I was in the year 2000. Nor can I remember what I was doing. So I guess it works both ways.
3) I often have trouble remembering significant details like, say, my age. I have even greater difficulty remembering the birthdays of others, even those I love very much. For instance, my son was born on the either the 5th or the 6th of some springtime-y month. I can't remember without checking. This makes answering identifying questions asked by officials (for example, banking and government officials) somewhat tricky. When asked, "And what is your date of birth?" I pause and stutter and stammer and mumble, "Now just let me think for a minute...". To an official, this is tantamount to saying, "Please wait as I check my computer database of stolen identities...".
4) Speaking of identities, computers, and databases -- I almost never accurately fill out the kind of computerized questionnaires you must complete in order to register at a website. I usually indicate that I am a very old man in the top income bracket who works in the military-industrial complex. Maybe this is why I have trouble remembering the truth.
5) I am disturbed by children's cartoons in which some animals are anthropomorphized and others are not. For instance, Mickey Mouse is a talking mouse who wears pants. Yet he has a dog (Pluto) who remains essentially and only dog-like. And all the animals on Little Bear, from Little Bear himself to the snake No-Feet, are able to converse in English. Yet Lucy's grandmother's dog is not. And it's not always a dog -- I've often seen cats and insects get dissed in this way too. I also have a deep and abiding aversion to anthropomorphized animal characters who, in addition to being able to speak and wear human clothing, are given some wrenchingly inappropriate human physical characteristic as well. Arthur, I'm looking at the female animals on YOUR show. With horror. They all have heads of perfectly coiffed human hair. Ugh. Having a perfectly coiffed head of luxuriant human hair turns a cute anthropomorphized animal into some frightening hybrid creature that belongs in a science fiction novel. To the creators of these children's shows I say: Reality or Fantasy, people. Pick a side and stick to it. (Or write science fiction novels for adults. Most science fiction fans can probably take cats with full heads of curly red hair. Innocent children and their mothers should not be exposed to such images.)
6) I personally have a great deal of trouble distinguishing between Reality and Fantasy in my own life, which is, perhaps, why I find these cartoons so distasteful. If I can't look to cartoons for accurate role models, where can I turn? Now please excuse me while I go add some imaginary notations to my poop calendar.