I have naturally wavy-to-curly hair that is particularly susceptible to humidity. In twenty-eight years, I've yet to figure out how to blow-dry the back of it perfectly straight.
I spent a good portion of my junior and senior years in high school in the darkroom doing yearbook and art photography. The chemicals wreaked havoc on my fingernails and got me started on a lifelong bad habit of picking at hangnails. Still, I prefer to shoot film rather than go digital, and if I had a darkroom, I'd develop and print too. I generally like to photograph architecture.
When I'm really frustrated, I curse in French. And Dutch. And German.
I think of the squirrel that likes our balcony as "Squidge" because I've never been very good at naming pets.
I learned in elementary school drama club that I cannot control my blink reflex if someone tries to apply eye makeup on me. Because of that, I never wore eyeliner or mascara until four years ago, when I realized I could put it on myself.
I used to collect fountain pens, partly because students in France all used them and I wanted to be French.
I know a trick for folding fitted sheets, but I don't generally bother to fold them when I put away the laundry. I do, however, iron napkins.
I write poetry, usually longhand. I also enjoy doing the math sections on SAT practice tests when I'm proctoring, but I find the critical reading sections boring, despite (or perhaps because of) the fact that I write them for the curriculum group.
The first time I ever drove a car was in Maine. It was a big conversion van on a dirt road and I was allowed to drive it about a tenth of a mile. I was thirteen or fourteen. I did very poorly.
Three years seems like forever to me. I'm really going to miss everyone I've met here.