Monday, May 21, 2007
I have been simultaneously tagged, by two persons, Meli at Northern Lights, and Isabelle at In this Life, both of whom I have listed as friends in that column on the right of this page.
I find this tagging thing intriguing, since it's the cyber version of a chain letter. I couldn't think of much random information which anybody would care to read. The best one I have ever read is Ask The Bronte sisters.
Sadly, I dont have 8 people to tag. So I shall just tag JANE at This Bower My Prison, and that will certainly stir her up. Anyone else on the list would surely kill me. Everyone is screaming towards deadlines, including me, but I am doing my best to divert myself from this fact.
Hope you dont mind, miss jane.
Eight random facts about me.
1:My piano teacher used to call me “Miss Tempo Rubato” because I couldn’t keep time to save myself. We used to joke about many things, included the musical term “hemiola”. I retorted that it sounded like some kind of contagious disease of the bottom, at which he almost had a seizure.
Last week I found a CD he had recorded and given me. He had signed it “yours in hemiola, James”.
2:I am a really crap pianist. But I adore listening to others.
3:I am not afraid of snakes, spiders OR sharks, but the thought of being old terrifies me.
4:I can go to sleep anywhere, anytime I want to. It’s a gift.
5:I have attracted three stalkers in my life. When I was 15, 23 and last year. The last one was a Polish man in his seventies.
6:I have now taught people from age 5 to 65. I taught a masters subject last year, and one guy was 65. In this fact, I possibly equal Mieke Bal. I am currently teaching sculpture to 10 year olds, as well as teaching university students.
7:I was a vegetarian for many years, until I had a (psychotic episode)
dream where a Renaissance angel visited me and told me I should really eat meat. So I did. I still don’t know how to cook it, so the butcher writes instructions on the wrapping paper.
8: I didn’t know, until I was 22, how short-sighted I actually was. I wore my first pair of contact lenses, sobbing piteously, because I could suddenly see leaves all the way to the tops of the trees, the other side of the harbour, bricks to the top of a building. By then, my habitual squint was ingrained. I still do it, and have the marks to prove it.