I'm not as weird as I used to be, when I painted my face with whiteface and kohl eyeliner applied with a lip brush and would only talk in either song quotations or poetry (my teenage years were... difficult), but I still have my eccentricities.
For one, the poetry thing has kind of lingered, and now I have an elaborate vocabulary that I cannot keep caged anymore. Everything I say is expressed in an overdone, highly dramatic way, and occasionally in verse. I think in verse sometimes/that's just how it's always been/doesn't matter if it rhymes/or is heard, or read, or seen/it just seems to me a crime/to let a thought pass idly/without shoring up its form/inside chirping poetry.
For two, I can speak cat. As in, I can decipher cat sounds to discover what it is they're crying about, and can meow back to them in ways they understand. I haven't mastered the kitten meeping yet, though when I do I imagine I will enslave all felines everywhere out of sheer mothering instinct.
Wave my wrists around underneath a barcode scanner, and one will come up as the number 17 and the other 4.
Auditory and tactile hallucinations. I've learned to ignore the sound of thumping bass, muffled drums, muted music and far-off hums, as I know they're rarely real. Similarly, I've sometimes thought myself in an earthquake, felt the concrete buckling beneath my feet as I walk, felt surfaces expand and contract as if they coated a beating heart, felt phantom touches or gusts of wind, and other such madness. One time, at night as I was falling asleep, I was jolted awake by the feel of someone shaking and yelling at me. I heard nothing, but felt the breath on my face. Ever want to NEVER SLEEP AGAIN? Experience that.
Thanks to an unintentional electrical episode I have, in fact, shot lightning out my ass.
And finally, at least until I can think up more: I have abnormally strong bones and nails. Despite such tomfoolery as jumping off a water tower and trampolining in a thunderstorm (the origin of the previous oddity, in fact), I've never broken a bone. My toenails are closer in consistency to tree bark than any mammalian tissue, and are so dense and strong that I can't cut them with nail clippers, scissors or a knife. The compromise: pruning shears. They seem to work.
