Ok, so…in my absence, my blog has gotten messy. I have slacked, hardcore, on the aesthetic of my baby and how ugly are my uncentered posts? How dare I? Not to mention you can find my story but I prefer my info be current and that, it is not. As I have been typing my story, The Rewrite, I decided it wouldn’t be a bad idea to share a few annoying, weird…simply Candace traits that make me…well, Candace 🙂
Stay Tuned for the next episode: According to Others! …oh, no…wait a minute!! I quit giving a fuck about what others think of me a long time ago 🙂 Carry on.
1. Before I can even begin to complete an idea, I am on to the next episode of it (Perfect example above). And apparently, life plays like a movie reel in my mind. CUT?! If I remember my dreams they usually end with To Be Continued… just like some television shows used to do.
2. At home, we have four small dogs. A toy Maltese, J baby, a terrier, Ruger, a pom, Remi, and last but not least, Tater, our pound pup. It sounds like a lot but all of them together equal two dogs so it’s not so bad. The best part, none of them shed. Oh, yeah…dog dialogue. I spend a lot of time at home and it’s usually just me and the dogs – chill’n. The majority of my life I have created voices for our animals and boy do these four have a lot to say!! It has become a running joke that the dogs and I are Paw Patrol. We give out citations for my sister’s all-nighters, leaving me with her two fur babies and their kennels – we call jail. 😂 I know, I know…what a life but if you can’t entertain yourself, no one can.
3. Roughly two years ago, I picked up drinking coffee. I have two cups in the morning and two in the evening, around 4 pm. I have always enjoyed the flavor of the warm, sugary goodness but my preference leaned more toward ice coffee. I wasn’t an everyday drinker by any means. Well, one day I decided, what the hell, what’s one more addiction?!? I had a cup of hot coffee and haven’t looked back. It is likely I quit drinking it on the daily though because I do not want to stain my pearly whites.
Nobody puts Candace in the Closet
4. I am severely claustrophobic. No small spaces!! I cannot do small spaces. I prefer rooms with more than one exit. I am so claustrophobic that it is the source of much of my anxiety. A few examples being…if I share a bed with someone, I cannot sleep facing toward them. It feels like they steal my breath. When I sleep, I have to fold the corner of my pillow under so it doesn’t swallow my face and suffocate me. If someone stands to close to me in line at the store, I have to step to the side of the line. My heart races and I feel as though I am being pushed with nowhere to go. And don’t you dare think pinning me down for a game of tickle is ever a good idea. In such a case, you are likely to lose a limb. And my fave, do not call me rude because I do not want to hug. Please. I understand that is some people’s way of exhibiting their admiration for you but it makes me extremely uncomfortable because again, face to face breathing, chests touching and I don’t even really know who you are…no. Just please, no. A handshake or dap works for me or if you are ancient, a high five will do.
5. Resting bitch face is real. When I feel anxious, which is the majority of the time, I hold my breath. I am sure this contributes to the claustrophobia but nonetheless, I hold my breath. This leaves me
no little time to worry about how my face looks (typing that was weird). I am also a mouth breather and in order for me not to walk around, mouth agape, I must focus on the in through your nose, out through your mouth breathing technique or else I’ll turn blue (really, not really). I’ve had the habit of holding my breath my whole life. Growing up I often held my breath to get what I wanted. If Ma said no, I would hold my breath until I got it. That is until one day our neighbor came over and popped my mouth which made me gasp for air. She saw that my mother was struggling with me and my breath-holding tactic and decided she could take no more. She popped my mouth and just like that, I was forced to breathe. My Ma said I gave that woman go to hell look each time I saw her after that and never spoke to her again. I was three, y’all. Three.
6. It’s true, I sniff most everything. For some odd reason, I have to smell almost everything. But the tragic thing about being a mouth breather is if it is a bad smell, I taste it before I smell it – ewe is right. I guess I use my sniffer as a memory tool. I will smell the oddest of things but my favorites are magazine pages, freshly sharpened wood pencils, laundry detergent, lemon, and bleach. I like the smell of markers but since I picked up coffee, I decided I’d leave the markers alone 😂😂
Candace. Not Candy.
7. Candy is sweet. I am not. Yes, I can be a sweet, caring person but my name is not Candy. Nothing is worse than introducing yourself just to have the person rename you. I get it, some people shorten their name and go by a nickname. Cute. But if I introduce myself as Candace, I want to be called Candace, damn it. Not Candy.
8. If I speak about a topic it’s because I know about it. The saying she’s always right applies to me when I speak – hear me out – I only speak if I can add value to the conversation. No, I am not perfect or a know-it-all but I was born with an underline intelligence as my gift. That sounds cocky but it is something I’ve always been told. It isn’t in every subject, only those that interest me and I use my intelligence to correct others when they are wrong. Not to humiliate them rather inform them. That isn’t to say that I haven’t crushed a few egos with my
witchy charismatic intelligence but it’s not always my intentions. If I decide I want to learn about a subject, I can read a little about it and somehow unfold the rest of the information on my own. That to me is common sense. As far as “common sense” goes, I have none. None. I do not get jokes, I do not entertain small talk or gossip, and if I were stuck in a brown paper bag, that’s where you’ll find me the next morning!! Don’t argue with me either because I will argue with a wall.
Tall. Not Big.
9. There is a difference. As a woman, the last adjective I want to be used to describe me is big. I’m almost positive this minuscule aggravation was picked up from hearing my Ma say, she’s tall, not big, my whole life, however, tis is true. I am tall, 5 foot 10 inches to be exact. I am not big. My build is considered a medium build with broad shoulders, big boobs and from the belly button down, I am small. Ya know, like a triangle 😂😂 My ankles and feet are so small that guys in high school used to ask me how your lil bitty feet hold ya body up Candace? Hahaha. If they had paid a lick of attention, they’d seen this size 7 doesn’t do so well 🙁 as I am prone to tipping over while standing still.
10. Love/hate, angry/optimistic, excited/anxious, and too many others to mention. I have a love/hate relationship with about everything in life. I love people for what they don’t love about themselves. Often times this leads to them embracing said trait yet I
hate strongly dislike how others feel as though it’s necessary to point out my shortcomings. I know where I lack. Believe me, I know. I am an empathetic person who doesn’t sympathize with anyone. People do not surprise nor impress me. I do not trust a single soul. No, not one. Not even myself. But if I trust you enough to allow you in my life, I have a tendency to overshare which has resulted in ammunition for when we fell out. Doesn’t bother me though because I am an open book. Some things sting but most, I don’t give too much time to. If I ask your opinion, I want an honest answer. If I don’t ask your opinion, I don’t want it. It’s as simple as that. Depending on the day, you could be told about yourself for sharing your unsolicited opinion or we could have an in-depth convo about it. Ya never know with me. They say this is common in the personality type I’ve tested to be, an INTJ. If you click on that link you’ll discover that I am of the rarest personality type there is. Oh, it’s just wonderful being me. Ugh!!!! My personality type represents only 4% of the population which can only mean one thing…I will be misunderstood for the rest of my life😣 Yay. Fuck’n yay.
And as promised…my rbf
It’s always been said that if you want my honest opinion, tell me or ask me when we are together because my face will tell all. I speak with my eyes and if I don’t look at you, I don’t entertain your type. Some say snobby, I say selective. And you know what I said about when I speak 😉😂 (reference #8)
(and because I don’t do even numbers)
11. Chatty Candace. I can always be heard “talking to myself”. I call it thinking out loud but I do indeed speak aloud while I am the only one in the room. Doing so helps me walk through steps, focus, and I just do. My MommyGee would have legit conversations with herself. I can picture her now standing in her huge walk-in closet justa chatt’n it up and she’d be the only one in there…well, except for me hanging upside down from her velvet mauve/pink chaise lounge asking her who she is talk’n too. 🙂 I love you Mable and miss you dearly.
How ’bout you? Do you have eleven interesting things that you can share about your weirdness with us??? Come on now! The cool kids are do’n it.
Hey, but really if you do, backlink and invite others.
I tag Ashley from Mental Health @ Home. And, duh.. a huge shout out to Ash for being amazing!! She sets the stage by example. No bullshit. It is what it is and I think she may represent that #lowlife too 🙂 You make me proud Ashley.
P.S. I am not turning R.O.E. into a gallery of selfies. I promise. #noworries