Answer this with ten facts about yourself and send this to ten of your favorite followers :) (No pressure if you’d rather not though! :) )
— auroramycena
I used to have nearly a full head of hot pink hair, for pretty much my entire college career. I dyed it a natural color for a friend's wedding, and then had to keep it that way due to employment. :< I desperately miss it, and have spent a lot of time drooling over wigs and fantasizing about having my unnatural color back. One of the first things I ask myself when looking into a new job is "Will they let me have pink hair?"
My mom handed me a smutty book at 16, and told me it would be educational with a wink. Little did she know, I'd been reading smutty fanfic for 3 years already.
For about 5 years, I hated reading and analysis. I had a string of abusive English teachers who told me that disabled = stupid, and would scold me when my interpretations of things were different than the textbook response. My senior year of high school, I basically decided "Fuck this." Our first assignment was to give a "This I believe" speech to introduce ourselves to the teacher and class. I gave a half hour presentation on why I believed in fairies, and my teacher loved it and actively encouraged my weird interpretations and connections.
The only art class I received less than an A for in college was my abstract painting class. I am now an abstract painter.
I only own 2 pairs of pants. One is a crummy pair of mom jeans, and the other is a nice pair of pinstripe slacks. I never wear either of them. I wear skirts instead, even though I am far from lady like.
I LOVE science. That shit is SO COOL and it makes me so sad that people don't realize how rad that shit is. It's not just a jumble of numbers, and if more people were taught about it the way I was (With explosions and projectiles and rollerskating in the hall way and launching hot wheels at the librarian) and THEN math and numbers), I think we'd have a lot more crazy inventors and scientists.
I didn't even /like/ art until I was in 7th grade. And that was because I was going through some insanely difficult family problems, and spiraled into a horrible depression (Complete with self harm and thoughts of suicide). The only teacher who had any faith in my was the art teacher. She defended me to all my other teachers, counselor, and parents at a "team" meeting about my troubles... She let me stay in the art room after school because I was afraid to go home, and even gave me my first sketchbook. I don't want to think about what would've happened to me without her.
The summer I spent as a games caller at Kings Island, I got awarded with "Games Employee of the Month." My supervisor's summary of me was "Shannon's energetic calls can be heard throughout the park, rain or shine, even without a microphone during a hurricane" Thanks, supervisor, thanks
When I was little, and learning to write, I'd use my left hand for half the page, then switch hands and continue for the second half. I did this on paper and chalkboards. I basically "chose" to be left handed because it was the hand I used /first/.
The only reason I learned to paint is because the man I took lessons from met my mom when he was buying the entire Series of Unfortunate Events for his nephew, and my mom struck up a conversation with him because they were my fav books at the time. He owned a studio less tha 5 miles from our house, and taught painting lessons. I had been badgering my parents for art lessons, since I was the only one in the advanced art class without outside classes.