The Inevitable Eight

I saw it at Rey's. I saw it at Big Orange Michael's. And now, I'm going to share 8 Random Facts About MCF:

1) My real name isn't MCF, nor do any of those letters correspond to my actual initials. One or two readers have the notion that my last name is “Whorenelli”, but I won't confirm or deny that. Only five readers that I know of possess even a portion of my true secret identity.

2) I write about being self-conscious, and I maintain a secret identity, but I'm so competitive that I really would post a real, current picture if I got the most votes for Best Geek Blog or Best Blog About Stuff. I just want to win something.

3) I might be competitive, but I'm more passive than proactive. When I was much younger I used to initiate, used to actively seek out people and plans. Over the years, I became more laid back, and let stuff happen, reacting. It's not that I'm incapable of desire or foresight. I can see what course of action I should take in various situations, and anticipate outcomes. I'm secretly very good at planning, but actually executing more than the first step of a plan proves difficult. More and more, I keep thinking about a Chinese proverb posted in my gym: “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” Thus far, I applied it this past weekend when I opened my shed and saw how many boxes, tools, and other items blocked my access to the lawnmower. Maybe I'll apply the philosophy to something more significant one of these days.

4) My mom finally was released from the hospital on Wednesday. My dad had a bad back from standing around or sitting in uncomfortable chairs, and our cat Cubby moped around, but it was Chirp who suffered the most from her absence. Cubby will eat anything and as often as food is put in front of him. Chirp has always been a more finicky eater, and if he doesn't like a certain dish he'll scratch at the wall or pull a napkin over it, and generally make the same gesture he makes burying his business in the litter box. The cat can't speak, but knows how to tell us, “this food is crap”. So when I came home Thursday night, I found out he hadn't eaten all day, and my mom thought he was skin and bones and that we hadn't fed him while she was away. She was mad that my dad brought home the wrong baby food, and he didn't want to go back out in the rain, so I soon found myself in the local supermarket buying baby food for a cat, along with some special crunchy food actually meant for a feline. I had to call her on my cell phone to verify, and when I got home she dished out some strained lamb and he gobbled it up. “You saved his life!” she said, probably exaggerating, but he did seem to perk up.

5) I'm not a fan of the supermarket. I hated being dragged there by my mom as a child, especially because she takes so long to shop. Sometimes we'd leave one supermarket because an item was too expensive, find it was more in a second supermarket, and double back to the first one. When I need something specific, like milk, I go to the milk aisle, grab milk, then go to the cash register. But my mom, no matter what she was going to the store for, always walked up and down every single aisle, in case something was on sale. It was fun for her; torture for me. I got to an age where I was embarrassed to be seen with her, afraid kids from school would make fun of me. Then I was sent to a private high school, and refused to go in local supermarkets even by myself, because I didn't want to run into anyone I used to know and get made fun of. I'm happy to say I've gotten over that irrational fear, and while the supermarket is a necessary “evil”, I'll go when I need to, like when my little friend was in trouble Wednesday night and needed special food.

6) My mom is a packrat. We have a house full of our own stuff, stuff from when our neighbor moved a few years ago, and stuff from when my uncle moved a few months ago. She hates to see things thrown out, and will take stuff just because its free. We currently have a refrigerator full of snacks from the hospital, individually wrapped slices of pound cake and other treats she hoarded with each meal. I'm not quite as bad as she is, but I definitely inherited that gene and she just has a head start. I had over 4,000 comic books when I stopped collecting and tallying them about 10 years ago. I used to buy 20 or more a week; now I might pick up 5 or 6 once a year at a convention, or buy the occasional trade paperback. I stopped collecting for various reasons, but one of them was that I was running out of room. I've stopped buying DVDs for the same reason, and because the technology will soon be obsolete. But I still have all of them, and all of my VHS tapes. I bring more in than I get rid of, and my solution to a space problem is to stop or slow down my intake of junk, but never to part with any I've gathered already. “God forbid there's ever a fire in this house.” has been a frequent saying of my mom's for as long as I've known her....

7) In elementary school, I used to breakdance. I wasn't very good, and kids laughed at me, but I enjoyed attention back then, even negative attention, so I did it more and invented my own versions of dances. Even though they weren't even trying, my classmates still had to critique my skills and for some reason I listened to them. I never kicked anyone, though.

8) If it were socially acceptable, I probably wouldn't walk around in a cloak out there in the real world. I'm not really as big of a loser as I paint myself to be. I do think my own armor would be pretty sweet...