It's not just about the balloon

For my "Cultivating Presence" course last term, the students were asked to identify a scenario that prompted strong emotional reactions. We reflected on our emotions to determine why we feel a certain way about or have conditioned automatic responses to certain things. I didn't think I could come up with something deep and meaningful, but I surprised myself.

I described a work situation when someone took credit for work that I had done. I HATE HATE HATE it when I'm not properly appreciated for my contribution. One reflection led to another, until I was able to unearth a childhood memory that started this all:
My brother and I were with our parents at the CNE Air Show (I can't remember what it's called) when were were 6 and 11. A clown came to the crowd with dozens of helium balloons and started to hand them out. My brother and I ran out and were first in line. In a few seconds, the clown was surrounded by many kids who were screaming, pushing, and begging for balloons. While we stood there patiently in our stern belief that we would be rewarded for being first in line, the other kids stretched their hands out around us to grab the balloons out of the clown's hands.

As the exercise continued, I realized why I am so stern about being fair. I clearly remember how it felt when the clown had given everyone else a balloon and leaving my brother and I empty-handed. Not only is it important to be fair, it is also important to stand up for yourself. If you dont' stand up for yourself, you leave people the opportunity to take advantage of you. Standing up for myself is difficult for me because I dislike conflict and confrontation (I know you're all surprised). I can easily think of a dozen instances of when I didn't stand up for myself. I'm starting to be better at it though. The battle is to not appear to be trivial or selfish, because I detest those traits too. Another battle is my laziness. Sometimes, it just takes too much effort to yell at someone unless the offence meets my internal anger-threshold.

The Six Weirdest Things About Me

Mimi tagged me and now I have to publicly admit that I'm weird. Don't worry, I'm generally a non-tagger so you're safe.

1. As a kid/teen, I had 3 reoccurring nightmares. They ALL involved running. It doesn't really sound that bad, but you should know that I'm frigthened of the game "tag". Sometimes, I run toward the person who's "it" just so I'd stop getting chased. To add on to this fear, I'm not a "strong runner". I can't run for speed or distance...basically, I am slow and tired a l l t h e t i m e (anyone who plays volleyball with me can confirm this).

2. I get obsessive about certain things. I'm going to list just a few of them.
a) My utensils cannot touch the counter.
b) I can't stand bare feet.
c) I get upset when people draw or poke holes in my erasers.
d) I only write with fine point pens.
e) I can't stand people jotting or scribbling on my paper.
f) Highlighters must have the right shade of yellow, proper transparency, must not smudge, and produce the right amount of liquid for the job.

3. In high school, we hung out in each other's basements quite frequently. Once in a while, we'd watch a movie. Sometimes, people would insist on watching scary movies. I get scared really easily (i.e. I got scared when Scary Movie 3 made FUN of The Ring). To avoid watching the movie, I'd force myself to go to sleep so I'd nap while everyone else enjoyed themselves.

4. I like TV shows that apparently only old people watch: Nash Bridges, JAG, North of 60, etc.

5. Unless otherwise required, I usually type my e-mails in lower case letters only and without any punctuation marks. I like the look of it.

6. I forget what it's called, but I have this "condition" that makes the bones in my feet super flexible. So everytime I walk, I land differently. The muscles and tendons have to compensate for the flexible movement of those bones. This, combined with poor biomechanics and high-impact sports, have resulted in partially torn tendons in the arch of my feet, inflammation of my Achilles tendons, and inflammation of tendons in my knees. I also frequently roll my ankles without hurting them.

Honourable mentions:
I'm 5'4 3/4" tall but my arm span is 5'9".
Sometimes, my mind can't decide which word to use so I often combine two (i.e. phone+call = cone)
It may be hard to believe, but I detest public speaking. To hide my nervousness, I pretend to be someone who enjoys and is good at it.