1. My blood is very diverse. I am Italian from my father’s father, English from my father’s mother, Austrian from my mother’s father, and German from my mother’s mother. Still, I am told I have the most features from the Italian side.
2. In conversations, I have a tendency to avoid spelling some things out. Giving hints, being metaphorical, and so forth is just a lot more comfortable for me in certain topics, and I just feel weird being forthright in some situations. It just isn’t me to say everything in a way that a seven-year-old could interpret it with ease. Things like:
“I am sad. Someone hurt my feelings today, and I did nothing to him. I’m not going over to his place again.”
I find to be really, really awkward for me to say in some circumstances compared to:
“It’s a cruel world when one cannot be kind without injury in return. Now I know where I don’t belong.”
3. I have a very weak sense of taste, so I have to dump seasoning on my food with a passion. There is like this ongoing joke in my life, as nearly every time someone sees me applying salt or something, I get a “Whoa” or some equivalent. When there is enough salt in something for most people to enjoy, than that means there needs to be a lot more for me to like it. When my father cooks and adds salt, he always tells me to taste it before adding more salt. I did at first, years ago, but I learned that there is literally no point. If he actually added enough for me to enjoy it, no one else would be able to. So yeah, if anyone ever meets me in person and we eat something that uses salt, I don’t think I’ll ever be fed the line, “Are you gonna finish that?” Why? ëCause no one would dare touch a food I’ve salted.
