Interviewing myself . . . sort of

Most of you have probably seen the interview game that is going around the blog community. Someone asks you five questions, you answer them on your blog, then solicit others to be interviewed. Usually the interviewer knows the interviewee or has been reading her blog enough to customize the questions. Since I am fairly new to Blogland, I am taking Cari up on her invitation to snatch a few questions from her blog and interview myself. Here goes:

You’ve won the literary lottery! The New Yorker is going to publish one of your poems! Give us the first line of that poem.

It has been 15 years since I've written a poem, and it has been at least five years since I have reread my poetry notebook. I was excited to answer this question . . . until I opened the notebook. What dreck! I read through almost 50 poems before I found something that wouldn't embarrass me in front of my Blogland friends. Everything from 1980 -1984 was childish (I was in high school), and the late-80s stuff is all over the map because I was toying with the idea of writing a novel so I experimented with different styles in my poetry. Anyway, here is the first line of a poem that doesn't make me sound like a poseur:

Sundays are for Mary Travers and meditation,
Contemplating the "education" of the young man
Down the hall.

What did you absolutely believe to be true when you were younger that turned out to be quite false in adulthood?

I believed that I was only destined to live until I was 18. I wasn't suicidal or anything; I just thought I didn't have what it took to be a grown-up. Even though I've managed to make it 20 years past my imagined death, I still don't have the drive or ambition that most adults possess. One day I will be unmasked and everyone will figure out that mentally I never made it past 16.

What do you look like inside your head with your eyes closed? How do you picture yourself?

In my mind's eye, I am a curvy Jane Russell type who is light on her feet. The main reason that I am trying to lose weight has nothing to do with health -- I can't stand the labored walk and heavy breathing of an obese woman.

Congratulations! You’ve won that $100 drawing on KnitPicks. What do you buy with it?

I desperately want a Denise interchangeable needle set! There are projects that I avoid because I don't have the right needle size to meet gauge. Many needle sizes aren't available to me locally and my fear of spending keeps me from ordering online more than once every few years. If I had enough money left, I would probably get Stitch and Bitch Nation since I am the last knitter in the country to own it.

You can have one room of a house entirely for yourself. It doesn’t have to be your house, or a house that actually exists. What does the room look like, what do you put in it, and what will you do there?

I would turn the room into a dance studio. I'm talking wood floors, ballet barre, and mirrors. I would also have a large screen TV so that I could use dance DVDs. My poor tap shoes are gathering dust!

What was the worst date you ever went on?

This was when I was about 16. A guy I knew had a friend that he wanted to me to date. The friend and I talked every night on the phone for about a week. I was stretching to make conversation because we didn't really have anything in common. Finally, we met at a high school football game. I was not physically attracted to him but I was trying not to be picky because I didn't exactly have a full social calendar. After a dull evening of half-finished sentences and awkward silences, I let him kiss me. Big mistake! To say it was wet and sloppy is an understatement; I had so much of this guy's saliva pouring into my mouth that I became nauseated. That still stands out as the worst kiss I have ever had.