Introductions : My biggest fear is being forced to write a captivating title.

Isn't public speaking the second most common phobia? I've never had trouble with it, I love it, in fact. It's part of being a self-conscious narcissist. I'm worth fucking listening to, and this whole entire goddamn room is at my disposal, and the best part is, most of the time, I didn't even ask to have them there. I've never voluntarily done a speech or presentation, it was always "requested" or assigned to me. It's fantastic.

Panda, I'm terrified. I've used my hair as a security blanket. It's part of being overweight. People are always looking for some way to compliment you -- having soft, thick, well-maintained long hair lets you both off the hook. Plus, it lets me pretend I was born fat or have a gland problem. "She takes such good care of herself, the fat can't possibly be her fault!" Getting dreads is going to be a cathartic experience for me. I'm purposely taking my hair and shredding knots into it. I'm only getting a few behind my ear, though.

As a Midwesterner myself, I second that. I hate mountains. Forests are fine and I like lakes somewhat, but give me an urban jungle over something I have to climb anyday. I didn't learn to swim until I was fifteen, either; I'm not an outdoorsy type. I like tepid weather and Midwestern springs. I'm uncomfortably picky when it comes to weather and nature.

My mom was a huge Faulkner fan when I was a kid and she used to leave all of the windows open when it rained so our doorjams and tables would warp after she read some passage in one of his novels about it. She tried to convince my dad to move us to the country, but he's run body-shops out of our garage for years and you don't get many people willing to drive out to the country for car repairs. If I can't focus, I drive to the park less than a mile from my house and work out of my car. It's calming, but I always get distracted by squirrels. I swear the ones in Indiana are evil.

Holy shit. I would ask, but I'm almost afraid to know the answer. That's what my book shelf looks like and I'm pretty sure they only stay up because the cigarette smoke is so thick in my room it acts as a support for them. Also, I'm vaguely aware of the reference now that you explain it. I think they parodied it on Family Guy.

In all honesty, I can't watch movies. I fall asleep. I fell asleep during Fight Club three separate times. (I did eventually watch it -- I was on Stacker diet pills for energy) I cried at the end of the last Harry Potter, but I fell asleep during it, too. I also can't watch a movie based on a book if it's even slightly different -- I have a wonderful memory for exactly what was said in novels and I get extremely frustrated if it varies even slightly.

To make it more simple, I can catalog almost every movie I've ever seen. If I stay awake during a movie, it usually means it's one I've watched multiple times. Saved!, Donnie Darko, Requiem for a Dream, any Michael Moore film (sorry, but I will defend him to the death -- I forgot to mention I'm a socialist), Coffee and Cigarettes, and the Harry Potter films. That's about it. I might have seen a few others, but those are the ones I distinctly remember.

Matt -- I think you just described my family to a T -- "drunken rednecks." I'm able to stand it because of the pure comedy value. My favorite story to tell is this: I got off work at eleven and went to my sister's house, where she lives with her boyfriend and my cousin. They were all drunk and stoned, and as I walked in, I yelled "I can smell the pot smoke from beyond the driveway!" She was on the phone and said, "Thanks, Mom heard that." When she hung up, she informed me my family was throwing a bonfire at my house and when my mom got mad at my dad, she threw her shoes into the fire and put on cowboy boots. I find that an eloquent way to describe the neuroses of my various family members.
Also, I can sympathize with the apartment hunting. My cousin (not the one who lives with my sister, but his younger sister) is moving to town come summer to attend the same college as me and my sister. We've been looking for apartments for months and have yet to find one in a decent neighborhood. It seems that everyone has the same idea as us. I'd be fine living in a fucking tent at this point.

Oh, hey, I have a question! I'm actually genuinely excited about that -- I was starting to worry about my lack of confusion, I felt like I was missing something. But I digress. If I revise my workshop submission, is it customary to change the submission to the new revision, or do people typically leave it as is? Also, I have two versions of it, one fiction, one memoir, and I was thinking if I changed it it would be to the memoir to stay true to my submission instead of trying to get two submissions out of 15 points. Am I off the mark?

Panda, I replied to you, but we have a huge storm so I'm not sure if it went through -- it isn't showing up, for some reason. I really feel like you just took a fucking picture of my room. My bed in particular -- after finishing Franny and Zooey last night, I pooled all of my books on my bed and went through them randomly. It's comforting.

Man, I'm grateful for my childhood. It was colorful, virtually painless (and if it hurt, it was fucking worth it), and gave me plenty of material. My grandmother is a lot like how you describe your parents. She's a literal hoarder, as in what you see on that fucking television show is what you'd see in her house. Still, she flinches whenever I curse (which is quite obviously frequently) and hides all of her nasty habits. I only know that she smokes and drinks because I had to clean her goddamn house once. It was disgusting. She had Black and Mild cigarillos hidden underneath her bed and open liquor bottles stashed everywhere. We smoked the Black and Milds and tossed the liquor. Other than that, my family is mostly as colorful as I describe my parents to be. My dad's youngest sister got a boob job when I was around twelve. Went from a 00 with negative A cups to a 00 with whopping D's. It was fantastic. She curses and drinks beer and spits. Her daughter believes she's a Juggalo (we don't talk much.) I will never pretend to feel nothing but undying affection for all of my family, though. (Except for the aforementioned grandmother. I fucking hate her, and she knows it, and she hates me too.)
My cousin, the one I'm looking to move in with, is almost too picky for my city. She wants to be able to work at a Sonic, buy weed off the corner, and then walk two blocks to our apartment. Our best option so far is a two bedroom, one bathroom shithole in the middle of downtown.

Panda -- I think I said something along the lines of "Fuck, it looks like you took a photo of my room. I read Franny and Zooey last night and my books are strewn all over the place. The stacks are mostly down, though, because of that. I barely took the time to move them when I slept after I put them on my bed -- there was something weirdly nice about sleeping wrapped around the piles. I think it was because I take Benadryl to sleep and felt more pleasure working my way around them than using the energy to put them on the floor, but I like having books near me at all times. We have stacks like that in every room of my house because of me." or something. Whatever. I was rambling.

I tried melatonin, but it never worked for me. I think I built up too much of a tolerance to sleep aides, honestly; it's pretty sad that at eighteen I take at least three benadryl a night, but hey, I don't have a choice at this point. I live in Indianapolis downtown, actually. We had horrible storms, but nothing near the horrors I read about in Henryville. I couldn't believe it.

Actually, no. It's strange. I'm allergic to metal, though, so I pretty much always have some sort of a rash for which Benadryl is necessary to cure. (I can't have any kind of metal touch my skin for more than 20-30 seconds or I have a horrible reaction, that includes stainless steel/sterling silver, and I crochet. They don't make plastic needles.) That might be why I can take such large doses without getting sick. Gives you a wicked hangover in the morning if you take too many or don't get enough sleep, though.