Nature v. Nurture v. Whatever Comes to Mind

So...I've been thinking lately. The whole nature v. nurture argument...how much weight does that hold. Which holds more influence? And can either nature or nurture ever be changed? See...I am an adopted child. An adopted only child...one who was adopted at 3 days old. The only familial environment I know is the one I was raised in. Yet I ended up being almost 100% different from my family in likes/dislikes/hopes/dreams/talents. The only aspect where I remotely resemble my family is in "learned behaviors" -- not sharing feelings, being fiercely private and independent, hiding problems instead of talking about them.

The real impetus (sorry for "big word usage here"...not writing to impress, just couldn't think of a better word in this instance) for this blog is my looking back on my upbringing and marveling at how I turned out. I grew up in a, for lack of a better descriptor, beige world. Literally. The carpets in my house were beige. The car we owned was beige. The furniture spanned a spectrum of beige hues from "vanilla" to "cocoa" and "taupe" to "brown." I was not allowed to paint my bedroom walls or hang anything on said walls. I couldn't pick my comforter (or my clothes...until I was in high school). There was really no outlet for self-expression, at least one would think. I mean, there were (and still aren't) any books in the house where I grew up, no music (no stereo, records, tapes or CDs). There is no computer. There are only three DVDs in said residence. No magazines...no anything. Yet I somehow grew up to love reading, books and horror novels in particular. We didn't have cable, yet I somehow devour all things pop culture. I LOVE music, though I didn't start listening to it until college (my 300+ CD collection proves it...though my iPod rendered even those obsolete). I love to write (stories, poems, whatever), draw, paint, sketch, make jewelry, dance (tap, mostly), play basketball, watch TV and play board games. Somehow, my environment growing up had nothing to do with who I became.

And yet it did. Because I learned to not talk about anything personal. I got the message that being a woman was something shameful and secretive. I got the message that men are asses. And most are, mind you, but certainly not all. I got the message that I was different, strange...a traitor for not 100% believing in the religion, life views, ideologies that my family did. And, oh yeah, I'm about a half foot taller than everyone in my family. That's interesting at family gatherings :)

So...I guess I'm torn. Nature? Nurture? Nothing but genetics? What's the deal, folks? I don't have the answer. And I'm not sure I'd want it.

Okay, donkey...on to other topics:

• All Hail Furby -- do you remember those annoying little toys...looked like cuter versions of Gremlins...yet had the ability to "learn"? Well, a long time ago, circa 1999 I had one. And it drove me nuts. Not only did it not "learn" anything...it wouldn't go to sleep. All it would do is repeat "me scared"..."it's dark in here"..."me hungry"...and other such gems. One day (it was asleep at this point, by some miracle I may add) I'd had enough and as I was taking out the trash I decided to throw the annoying little bugger away. Well, the motion of tossing it into the trash bag woke it up. So, as I'm walking across the parking lot of my apartment complex to pitch my garbage, the darn thing starts talking. Yep...I'm walking by my neighbors carrying a trash bag that keeps saying "Furby scared"..."it's dark in here"... and "let's play." Needless to say, I got more than a few odd looks. And I'd venture to guess that every time someone tossed something into the dumpster from then until the garbage men came would trigger that darned blasted toy to speak again...freaking out everyone. I can't help but look back and laugh...it was the first and last time I've had "talking trash!" :)
• Once More, With Feeling -- it's been a good year since I indulged in listening to the Buffy "musical episode" on CD. And it still rocks. I mean, they got the mustard out. What more can I say? My only regret is that I missed out on the musical episode theater revival tour (a la Rocky Horror Picture Show) before the greedy powers that be whined about not making money off of it and put the grand ole kibosh on it. Boo hoo :( Give me something to sing about, man!
• Yea Spring -- or the semblance of a possibility that in some realm in the near future there will exist, in any approximation, a form of slightly warmer weather historically referred to as "spring." Yeah, gotta love '08.

That's all the mindless blather that's fit to print. "I'll never tell!" :) GB silent.