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I am also scared of loud noises, especially ones that catch me off guard. Yeah, okay, most people are, that’s why we have reflexes. But I’m really, really afraid of them. My parents are fond of telling a story of one day when I was really little and being pushed in a stroller down a sidewalk in New York. Apparently, it was relatively windy, and my sensitive little ears couldn’t take the stress. I slapped my hands over my ears and proceeded to yell angrily, “Da weend, da weend!” I was, allegedly, very bothered by the strong breezes. I do not see why this story is so funny. My parents think it is hysterical. When we watch movies with loud parts like The Lord Of The Rings or Finding Nemo, they look over at me and smirk when they see that I have my fingers shoved into my ears. I have developed a wonderful technique where I use my index fingers to plug my ears and my pinky fingers to keep my eyes shut. I do this when I think a loud, gory, frightening or heart-stopping scene is coming up. Apparently this too is amusing to any present parties. I am so scared of loud noises and being caught off-guard, in fact, that I can’t sleep unless both of my ears are covered. For anyone who has never seen me sleeping, which thankfully is most of the people in this room, I will elaborate. I sleep on my side, and obviously have one ear pressed into the pillow. My other ear has to be covered with a thick layer of down comforter with which I sleep year-round. According to my parents, it’s sort of cute because I look like a terrified Eskimo. Thanks, guys. That’s lovely. While my mom is relieved that I no longer use a nightlight, she has timidly expressed to me her fears that I might find it a bit awkward when starting college and having to explain to my roommate that no, I’m not crying under the covers, I merely need to have both of my ears covered when I sleep. I actually can’t stand more than a few seconds lying in bed without my ear covered. I’m sort of a dork, in case you haven’t noticed.
In addition to being kind of a nerd, it seems that I am very funny, only I don’t mean to be. This is not one of those fortunate situations where I just happen to be very naturally comedic. I have heard from numerous people that I tend to embarrass myself frequently. It’s not that I’m a klutz, or that I’m unnaturally clueless or terribly moronic. I just embarrass myself by BEING ALIVE. Wonderful! Although I am, admittedly, a bit saddened by this, I guess it’s sort of true, probably because of my awful tendency to blush and giggle whenever I am the least bit nervous or insecure. Which, sadly, is often. Especially in Steve’s AP Spanish Language class. Sorry, Steve. When I laugh, which is most of the time, it is rumored that my nostrils flare, too. Occasionally, I do this weird outward snorting thing. I try not to think about it too much. By the way, it really helps my self-confidence, when you point this out to me. No, I’m just kidding. It’s really awkward.
I have been slightly ridiculous from the day I was born. Thankfully, this ridiculousness has stuck with me and shows no signs of leaving.