the games we play

this is inspired by an article i recently read in a magazine called, "the games we play," which talks about the little games that we carry on from childhood to adulthood.

full disclosure on the games i still play:


i lip sync all the time. not just discreet mouthing of the words while i'm on my computer, either. i mean, full on hairbrush-as-a-microphone, facial contortion, i am woman hear me convincingly-mimic-a-roar splendor.

i play with my hair in the shower, using shampoo to sculpt my hair into sudsy masterpieces. my favorites include: anne as a rooster, anne as elvis, anne as a hard core punk, anne as a tsunami, and anne as alfalfa.

i choreograph dance routines in the shower and in my bedroom, and will usually act out some of the moves until i realize i have neither the skill nor the know-how to perform my routines. oh, but they're so dope!

i have conversations with myself all the time, though usually not out loud. i'll essentially run through an entire dialogue with someone in my mind -- sometimes a close friend, sometimes a casual acquaintance with whom i'd like to have such a conversation one day. the convo will usually be about politics or sex or memories or love or relationships, all those things that knead my thoughts, that i hope to one day be wise about though i'm still, clearly, a novice.

i thumb-war when there's a lull in conversation.

i used to pretend i was some sort of woodland animal before i went to bed and when i woke up: that i had to burrow deep inside the covers to sleep and protect myself from all manner of evil night time villains (panthers, ghosts, cougars, robbers, etc). i still feel this way when i wake up in the morning, except the evil villain is work.

on occasion, i still try to see if i can move things with my mind. or will somebody to do something, like call me.

on nights when i'm home alone, i sometimes put on lipstick -- a color i haven't put on in a while, like a deep hibiscus red or my glossiest, stickiest cotton candy pink. lipstick melts off my lips like ice cream down a waffle cone, so i never really get to enjoy lipstick at work or out in public. but at home, poring over a book or a fresh piece of writing, or even just watching a movie, my lipstick becomes a naughty secret held between the walls, a pop of glamour, evidence that i'm still my favorite audience to play dress-up for.