Ponderous does not mean Wondering

Being in a new place with new people has caused me to be especially introspective this past week, contemplating who I am and what makes me me.  I therefore had the idea to make the investigation into the corners of my personality my next blog post.  But then I decided that would be super boring, so instead I just made a list of some stuff I like.

1. Giraffes.
I don’t know why I love them so much.  Actually I do.  It’s because they’re ridiculously ridiculous, with their spindly legs, blue tongues, and fuzzy do-nothing horns.  They appear at first glance to be the epitome of peaceful, quietly munching on their trees with their sleepy eyelashes, but then you YouTube “giraffes fighting,” and oh my goodness, you didn’t think it was possible for them to top their ridiculousness, but now you’re watching them hit each other with their noodle necks like monsters.  When I first saw it I was horrified, then a little bit heartbroken, and then I fell right back in love. Because of course giraffes do battle with their necks.  What else would you expect from animals who drink their water like this:

2. Art supplies.
If I ever get sucked into an addiction that leads to bankruptcy, interventions, and general devastation, I can almost guarantee that it would be an addiction to art supplies.  I just love them.  Even the ones I can’t really use effectively, like paints, charcoal, and pastels.  I just like having them around so I can pretend like I know what I’m doing while making a mess all over the kitchen table.  And markers and crayons will be my downfall.  I’m forever having to force myself to put a box of markers back on the shelf at a store, reminding myself that I already have a billion at home that are JUST AS GOOD.  And I love the neat sharp points of new crayons, which makes me just keep buying them.  Also, new crayons smell better than old crayons.  Yeah, I said it.

3. Socks.
I have weird looking feet, partly from playing basketball in high school and partly because of genetics (my mom’s got weird toes too) and I like wearing sneakers, so socks are my natural ally.  But plain white socks remind me of blank canvases, which could be art if only there was some color on them.  So I opt instead for colorful socks.  Also, when I was a kid, I was a proud member of the Weirdo Power Club, whose members made friends with fire hydrants, slept in my garage, and wore mismatched socks.  I believe the whole socks idea came from a sing-along type video tape that one of my friends owned that included a song about Happy Socks, which are--you guessed it--unmatched socks.  We kept up our happy socks for a long time, and for a while in junior high a boy in my homeroom class would helpfully point out my mismatched socks to me on a daily basis, honestly not understanding that it was intentional no matter how many times I told him.

It should be noted that in junior high I dressed like a boy scout.  It was an unfortunate consequence of my school’s uniform including khaki and the color green, and my fear that I would be sentenced to death if my shirt was untucked and my shorts didn’t reach the tips of my fingers.  Also for some reason I was really into hiking boots.  I don’t know why, because I disliked the outdoors even then.  If I had access to a time machine, I would go ask 12-year old me about my decisions concerning footwear and report back to you.  Oh, but the point.  The point is that bright, mismatched socks make my feet happy.

So, in conclusion, if ever I stumble upon a watercoloring giraffe in happy socks, I would implode of happiness on the spots.

The giraffe spots.