The first player of this game starts with the topic �five weird habits that you have�, and people who get tagged need to write an entry about their five weird habits as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose the next five people to be tagged and link to their web journals. Don�t forget to leave a comment in their blog or journal that says �You have been tagged� (assuming they take comments) and tell them to read yours.

And with that, I give you:

The Five Weird Habits of Me, Violet

1. Rather than �habit,� this might fall under the category of �unfortunate inherent mental flaws,� but that�s a long list, so I�m choosing to call this one a habit and think of it as an unconscious pattern I�ve fallen into rather than, say, lunacy. Certain phrases stick in my head, apparently for life, once I�ve heard them. They pop up, little unbidden non sequiturs, to irritate me in moments of quiet, causing me futile annoyance. Some of the phrases that inspire this irritation include: �divvy it up,� �drink it down,� �nice and clean,� and �highly spiced meats.� My reasons for growing annoyed with each of these phrases is specific, if highly idiosyncratic, yet I cannot explain why I would be walking down the street and suddenly feel irritation because I once heard someone use the phrase �sex session� to describe an instance of sexual congress. But the purpose of this exercise is to reveal, not to explain, and with that in mind, I move on to:



2. I despise all abbreviations for the word �sandwich.� This list includes, but is not limited to, the words �sammy,� �sando,� and although it�s not an abbreviation, �sangwich.� Years ago, I worked at a real estate office run by two insufferable snobs who had retained their working class son-in-law as a sort of all-purpose handyman. The resignation in his eyes was painful to witness. He would come by my desk every now and again to announce that he was going out to get a �sangwich,� and each time, I laughed, assuming he was trying to lift himself out of his drudgery with a humorous pronunciation of the word. Each time, he would look strangely at me, and depart. It took a while for me to realize that he was not making a joke. He was truly just a drudge.



3. I think of identity as mutable, which is not to say that when I am finally picked up by the Feds, the newspaper reports will state �The perpetrator used a large number of aliases, including Alice Barnstable, Alison G. Barns, and Barnison A. Alioto,� or anything like that. Rather, I think a name is something that can change over time, to reflect changes in life, in the caterpillar/butterfly mode. (The irony of this is that when I was married, I didn�t take my husband�s name.) I�ve felt this way for as long as I can remember, and at three years old, told my mother I wanted to change my name. She asked, �Change it to what?� and unprepared with an answer, I threw out �Elizabeth.� It didn�t happen, but since then, I�ve had a stream of names and nicknames that change with the circumstances. Tonight, I will be dancing under the name Sabyl Vyxxen at the Cheetah, for those inclined to tip generously.



4. I have named most of the blankets, and one of the pillows, on the boat I live on. A quick review of the players on Team Blanket: Yellow Boy; Stripey Boy; Blue Boy; Zappy Boy, and Celery. The Pillow Squad is represented by Mr. Wafty and his host of unnamed cohorts.



5. I am never satisfied with where I live. I lack a sense of home, which causes me to feel misplaced anywhere I am. This sense of homelessness has resulted in my living in, variously, an old brick apartment house in Boston�s North End, an Edwardian apartment above a Chinese restaurant in San Francisco, a loft in a former felt factory, a hotel, a tract mansion in Southern California, a 1920s bungalow, and three different sailboats. I have also expressed interest in living in: a renovated fire station, a desanctified church, a beach cottage, an Airstream trailer, and an abandoned gas station. I don�t know what�s responsible for this sense of misplacement, but perhaps my upbringing by apocalyptic Christian parents, who drummed it into my head that I was to be �in the world but not of it.� If so, however, that�s the only teaching of theirs that stuck. An astrologer once told me that my home was wherever I am, and if that�s true, then my sense of displacement is likely a reflection of my dissatisfaction with myself. I look forward to the day when I feel at home.

And that being over, I tag willowfox, veralynn, hardsauce, smedindy, and� and� moniquah. Jump in if you like, and if you�ve already been so tagged, or choose to sit this one out, no worries.