This is the second post in my Cassandra’s Survey series — posts that revolve around the chapter titles of my upcoming book, Sometimes Never, Sometimes Always. To begin at the beginning, go to question one and tell me three words that best describe you. All comments on these first five posts enter you to win a copy of my first book, Kiss the Morning Star (or, if you’ve already got that, I’ve got a few more prizes to throw your way!)
Chapter two begins with the words, One thing nobody knows about you…
This is a stumper, already. What could there possibly be that nobody knows about me — not my husband, not my mother? Then, at the same time, something I am willing to share with all of you??? I’m not an exceptionally secretive person, but seriously.
I did once convince a few people that I only have eight toes, because my pinky toes are so short they never reach the outside world in my sandals, but D knows that story. He knows all my stories, and he doesn’t even interrupt me when I tell them twice. In fact, he knows me so well, I even asked him, but then…if he knows something, it doesn’t count. His suggestion, by the way, after he suggested something I am definitely not sharing on the internet, was that he once had to sell a gun he bought (he’s a competitive target shooting person, not a nutjob, jsyk) because I shot it so much better than he did.
I could tell you about how I will only eat cereal without milk because milk that has taken on the flavor of sweetened cereal makes me vomity, or that I hate garden green beans because they feel like they’re wearing sweaters, or that I used to eat cooked carrots with ketchup to kill the taste, and now sometimes I’ll be eating cooked carrots and miss the ketchup taste. But people know those things, and besides, everyone has weird food quirks.
I could tell you about how, when I was a little kid lying in my bed trying to fall asleep at night, I used to pretend that I was forced to sleep inside a coffin made out of ice, but if I tell you that story, you’ll probably think I’m crazy. (And that was probably one of the least bizarre bits in my kid brain.)
I could tell you how I used to be a telemarketer and I quit four days shy of my six month bonus because it made me sick to my stomach to call all those people and interrupt their lives. They were so mean, and I still hate calling people on the phone, even my friends. (But other people know this about me, so.)
I could tell you how I got my teaching job through a phone interview, and I was so nervous on the phone that I spent the entire time cleaning my fridge, while wearing a pair of jeans with a big hole in the butt. (But I’ve told that story to my 8th grade class.)
I could tell about how I misspelled words on purpose in the seventh grade spelling bees because I was tired of people calling me a “booker.” How I’ve actually frequently made mistakes on purpose because I feel bad about other people feeling threatened by me being good at something. (But that’s sort of depressing.)
Oh! I could tell you about how, even though I’m a young adult author, there are significant events in my adolescence that I simply cannot remember…like my first real kiss. No memory. I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone that before. How about you? The odds are, your mom and your partner and your students aren’t reading this, so spill it.
What’s the one thing that nobody knows about you?