A. Phrases I have said repeatedly over days or weeks for often totally unclear reasons:
1. Katarina Witt (which I pronounced "Vitt" as it should be). This is my first memory of a persistent word or phrase that I would say over and over in my mind that occurred with no triggering reason. I was in 6th grade and I remember sitting at my desk in my remarkably boyish looking outfit (consisting of an oversized striped t-shirt, oversized plaid shorts and vans. This was also the year I wore turtlenecks under a fitted blazer to school. I guess I couldn't decide if I was a skater wannabe or a professor in training.) and being called on during class. Turns out Katarina Witt was not the answer to the simple math question I was requested to solve and it took multiple verbal summersaults to get out the correct answer.
2. Deutschland uber alles. Mostly the "uber alles" part. This happened the other day as I was wiping down the kitchen, changing the music playing on my computer and adjusting my resume's objective section for a possible job. I was not singing the German national anthem or anything, just letting the words ping around my brain, echoing each time they hit a preferred neuron, I guess. Germany above all.
3. Subcutaneous. College. I am glad that one was short-lived, as that word gives me the heebie-jeebies.
4. Coin. This stems from when I was young my older sister pointed out any word could sound weird and not actually like a word you would be inclined to use in conversation if you say it over and over enough. Her proof of this was for her to say the word coin 10-15 times in a row and leave me with this groundbreaking discovery (hey, I was 6), and boy-howdy did it fascinate me. I said it over and over out loud and then, when told to shut-up at the dinner table (I certainly don't blame them) I just set it on internal repeat. That word still sounds odd to me to this day.
I am not too OCD-ish otherwise. Just let me organize my MnM's/Jelly Belly's by color, wash my hands 5-6 times per day (okay sometimes more, BUT THAT'S JUST GOOD HYGIENE), and find a measure of solace in completing menial tasks in a particular order.
B. Firsts (inspired by a much more eloquent post about firsts by Petunia Faced Girl)
1. First time I got the wind knocked out of me: Also my first day of kindergarten. I was running around a corner just as Michael Whoshisface was rounding the same corner in the other direction. I was notably smaller than he and down I went hitting the checkered linoleum floor on my back. I promptly thought I was dying. Drama ensued. I never forgave Michael for that as well as for having the same birth date as me. HE STOLE EVERYTHING FUN FROM ME was my stance for a good year. Punkass.
2. First kiss: My first real lip-lock was with my then Junior High boyfriend. We had been sweatily holding hands as we walked home for a couple of weeks and hugging before we parted ways. Each day the hug lingered, we touch foreheads, but neither of us would go for it. My girlfriends had all been kissed (one had her boyfriend make out with her bellybutton. I still do not like that image.) and were pestering "when is it gonna happen, already!" One lovely blue sky day we stopped where we always stopped, on the sidewalk right outside of the park we always walked through. When we said our goodbyes, I was never aware of the world around us. Puppy-love did a number on me, that's for damn sure. It was just always him. And me. We engaged in our silly little mating dance of laughter, closeness, bad british accents, quietness, and longing. I haven't the slightest clue who leaned in first or even how the kiss finally came about. I just know it did and I was never the same. The best part was that as we separated from this new and awesome lip to lip thing, someone across the street hollered "WHOOOO!" We were shook out of our revery and giggled like the school kids we were. The accolades may have been unrelated, but I like to think that some homebound weirdo was rooting for us each afternoon and got a kick out of us finally going for it (stopping short of the possible pedophile thing, of course). It was simple and sweet and once I was around the corner and out of my first's vision range I clicked my heels and then ran with a shit-eating grin plastered on my face the five blocks left home.
(Source)
First desired professions: I wanted to be Mrs. Bon Marche (why I had to marry "Mr. Good Market" and couldn't just be the CEO on my own was rather telling of the times, no? In my later years I made up for this by being a totally kickass feminist) and get to run the store, speak french, and wear awesome clothes all the time. Also I wanted to be a detective as well as a broadway star singing show-tunes every night. Not necessarily in that order, but these first vocational leanings occurred roughly around the same time. (Alright, then it isn't really a "first" then is it, rather a series of firsts, but we are flexible here at Ward of the State of Mind. Except when it comes to Jelly Belly organization.) Now if I could just find a profession that wraps all these up into one I might actually know what they fuck I am supposed to be doing professionally in my life today.
Ugh, I am tired of this post. And hungry. And my drink glass is empty. I NOW PROCLAIM THIS POST COMPLETE.
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