I'm karma. You want to know about me? Okay.
I'm a person who still cuts the crusts off of sandwiches,
and I don't like maple syrup because it's sticky.
I keep saltine crackers next to my laptop and motrin in four different places around my house.
I like tea with milk and sweet-n'-low but in the mornings before school I drink it plain.
I eat leftovers for breakfast because I don't like toast, cereal, or most other breakfast foods.
I don't like cereal because I can't stand milk.
I've learned from experience the importance of coasters.
There are a lot of times when I can't breathe, but I haven't had an asthma attack in years.
I'm too weird for asthma. I need a condition nobody's ever heard of.
And I got it.
I have about fifteen journals with the first ten or so pages filled in.
I have a German newspaper that I one day hope to be able to read.
The same with my Spanish version of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.
I have euros in my wallet even though I live in the United States.
I read all the headlines on my firefox browser in case a funny news story comes up
(and a lot of the time at least one is funny).
I have a basket that just has paper stars in it, and only white or pale blue paper stars.
The calendar in my room is from December 2008
but I still haven't taken it down.
All my trophies are basically out of sight and forgotten, but I have two fourth-place ribbons hung up on the wall.
And community service award ribbons.
I've been to the emergency room at least once every year for the past couple of years,
and each time they've tested me for mono, given me pain meds,
and told me I had shingles.
And it's never been shingles.
The second-to-bottom shelf on my bookshelf holds a teddy bear I made in eighth grade,
books I read when I was seven, a guide from the Reichstag in Berlin,
a copy of The Scarlet Letter, and a Spanish-to-English dictionary.
I have a half-completed needlepoint on the shelf underneath my television,
but I don't needlepoint.
And now you know a lot more about me than you probably think you do.