I saw 
puppetmaker40 put this in her LJ, and I like the idea. As she put it,
Hey, it's a chance to talk about myself. Who minds that?
puppetmaker40 put this in her LJ, and I like the idea. As she put it,On-line journals are little filters that we each see every one else's lives through, the parts others choose to share with us. That said, we all think we are close, but really we seldom know *a lot* about each other. So I want you to ask me something you think you should know about me. Something that should be obvious, but you have no idea about. Ask away.And so I open this up. Have you been wondering something about me that you thought you should know but didn't? Ask, and answer I shall. (Keep it, at most, PG-13, if you'd be so kind.)
Then post this in your LJ and find out what people don't know about you.
Hey, it's a chance to talk about myself. Who minds that?
Profile
- chris_walsh
- Chris Walsh
Comments
- 2 Jun 2023, 17:05I am glad you exist and that you're choosing to blog!
Maybe not feeling poetic is a poetic state all its own?
Try to capture that feeling - I think that will be reflective of many folks'… - 2 Jun 2023, 06:59Glad you're surviving!
- 20 Jul 2021, 14:00I think I should wait until I have something better to brag about.
- 20 Jul 2021, 09:38I think it's okay to talk about your life, if you have something you want to share, even if you are doing well.
- 9 Jun 2021, 03:45I've been serving myself to watch this one day.
Comments
I couldn't pronounce my Rs for a lot of my childhood. I was in speech therapy from second grade (at El Descanso Elementary -- we kids called it "El Disgusto" -- in Camarillo, CA) to seventh grade (Thoreau Intermediate in Vienna, VA). Lots of people would ask my folks if I was from New England. At least two Virginians asked me if I was from England.
I first rode a bike at age 4 or 5. I was so small that I could only board a bike (borrowed from someone) by standing in the "throat" of a driveway, me on the sidewalk with the bike on the street, and walk it up to alongside the curb to gain me a few inches. Mom didn't know I was doing this until one day she entered the living room facing our cul-de-sac and saw me ride past.
My walking route to my first elementary school (Westwood Elementary in Rancho Bernardo, CA) took me up and over a good-sized hill. Yep, uphill both ways. ;-) (But downhill, too.)
A couple of Muppets scared me. The LP of "The Frog Prince" had a reverb sound effect for the villainess turning into a bird that freaked me out. So did The Count on Sesame Street.
The Goodyear Blimp once flew right over my Rancho Bernardo House. It seemed huge and close enough for me to grab.
At the pool (again, Rancho Bernardo), I'd be underwater so long that other parents would get worried and call to my Mom to get me out. But she knew I was OK. At my best, I really swam like a dolphin.
My constitution at about age 8-9 was so delicate that when we moved from Southern Californian desert to southern Virginia swamp in summer 1982, I literally could not step outside without feeling ill. I toughened up, thank everything.
And I still remember the moment where my memories finally become continuous, without giant holes in them: age 4, walking down the hall to my parents' room where Mom was (maybe folding laundry), and asking her how old I was. I came back a few minutes later to ask again because I'd forgotten. (My absolute earliest memory is from age 2 1/2.)