Because I got nothin' to talk about these days, I asked for another interview. This one is from Andrea, over at a garden of nna mmoy. She's scary-smart and intimidates the hell out of me with her writing abilities. She's an all-around amazing person. If you aren't already reading her, you should be. She's great.
1. So you read my take on the different vs. diabetes question. As the mother of a diabetic child, how do you see it? If you could trade the diabetes for a visible difference, would you? - Yes, most likely, I would. I do know the damage that teasing over physical differences can inflict on you, though. Growing up, I was teased mercilessly by a boy (Anthony Salvidio, the fat bastard) who was a year older than me. He made my life a living hell from 2nd grade on, pretty much. And what were my differences, you ask? I had a swayback and I wore glasses. For this, I was called every name under the sun, tormented on the playground and hassled in class. I went up a grade for reading and English and he made sure that my time in those classes was as miserable as possible. He made me ashamed of myself.
Diabetes is able to be hidden. That said, it's a ticking time bomb. At any time, something could go horribly wrong. And it's not like O hasn't experienced teasing because of her diabetes. The teasing and stares over a physical difference would be very difficult, emotionally, to deal with and I'm sure they would take a toll on her. Is an emotional toll better than a physical toll? It's hard to say - you have to have a pretty strong personality and a very healthy self-esteem to get past that. I don't have that and O is pretty sensitive, too.
I decided to ask O about this and she says that she'd much rather have diabetes. First, you wouldn't get made fun of as much and second, you can work with diabetes. She said that physical differences can hinder you a lot and make you unable to do things that other kids can do. But mainly, she wouldn't want to be made fun of and stared at.
Boy, is she my kid....
2. When you were fifteen, what did you think you'd be doing now? - Writing fabulous articles for The New Yorker or The New York Times. I thought I'd be a published author, living in a loft apartment in SoHo and throwing fantabulous cocktail parties where I'd rub elbows with the elite of the literary world.
3. You have five billion dollars. You can buy a cure for diabetes, or you can buy world peace. - World peace. Easy peasey. Someone, some day, is going to come up with a cure for diabetes. World peace seems to be permanently elusive.
4. You have 24 hours to yourself, an empty house and ulimited funds. What are you going to do? - Do I have to stay in my house? If so, have the world's most comfortable bed delivered to my house, along with a selection of my favourite foods, a personal chef to cook said foods for me and a masseuse to give me a looooooong massage. I'd hire a cleaning service to come clean my house, top to bottom. I'd pick one of my rainy-day staple books - probably a Rosemund Pilcher or Maeve Binchy (my two guilty pleasures) and curl up in bed and read. I'd doze, eat and read. I'd drink cups of tea brought to me by my personal chef. And I'd get some sleep. Lots and lots of sleep.
If I could leave my house, I'd hire that cleaning service to come in while I was gone and then I'd go to Boston, get a room at the swankiest, most comfortable hotel there and do many of the same things. I'd go to a book store and find one great book to read. I'd wander down Charles Street and check out all the antique stores. I'd go to the North End and gorge on Italian food and pick up some frou-frouy Italian goodies at the salumerias and bake shops. Then I'd go back to my hotel room and have a massage, followed by a luxurious wallow in a bubble bath, where I'd read my book and sip a glass of wine. I'd have room service deliver something decadent that I'd never tried before. I'd get a pedicure. And mostly, I'd sleep. Sleep and sleep and sleep and sleep.
5. What is one skill or talent that you would love to have, and why? - I'd love to be artistic in some way, be able to take stunning photographs or paint. There are so many times that I try to capture something and I fail miserably. I'd also love to be able to budget my money better. I suck at that. Suck, suck, suck.