HEADACHES & LIES.

Today was my first day back at school, and I figured some retail therapy was in order, in the form of these two beautiful Karen Caldwell dresses. They’re so classy and elegant, and I really love the way they look on. I can’t wait for my final fitting!

But my dresses aren’t the reason for this blog. As is customary on the first day of school, there was a lot of introductions being made in Advanced European Literature, we had to play Two Truths & One Lie, which is always fun and one of my favorite ways to get to know people — mostly, because I love to figure out people’s “tells,” and when you know that one of three things is going to be a lie, it’s fun to figure out what little tip-off there is. In Philosophy III, we simply had to answer the question why? Some of the responses were priceless.

But in Modern Politics, we simply had to tell ten things about ourselves, which was (arguably) the easiest form of introduction the entire day. Unfortunately, I have the very bad habit of being a compulsive liar when addressing people that I don’t necessarily like or know — it’s funny how you can go to school with a group of people since kindergarten and not know the first thing about them, personality wise — which is often the same thing, since I don’t typically hate people. But until I’m friends with someone, I’m very Mean Girls — I’ll compliment a sweater, or someone’s shoes, and then voice how much I didn’t like it to my friends afterward. But it typically doesn’t get back to them, so no harm, no foul, right?

Regardless, until I get to know people, I like to see how much I can get away with. Last year, I had my entire gym class convinced that I moved to the United States because of a semi-arranged marriage that involved my father betting my hand in marriage in a game of poker. And I got away with it (with most of the class, but I broke down into laughter with a small handful of individuals that came up to me with cut outs of wedding dresses they thought would look nice on me). Now, I know. Liars never get anywhere — unless you’re a politician or Tom Ripley, because then you get everywhere. But it’s harmless. Trust me.

Or don’t. It’s your choice.

So, I thought I’d share ten quick, completely unimportant details about myself. And guess what? They’re all true.

uno. I love lighthouses. I think they’re the one architectural structure that, no matter where in the world you are, is consistently absolutely beautiful.

due. My favorite food is Tiramisu. I’m a vegan, but Tiramisu is the one thing that (considering we’re at a good, authentic restaurant, or back in Italia) I will break for. I’m a good vegan, but a better Italian.

tre. On average, I hit my targets ninety percent of the time when shooting skeet. I was seven when I learned from the gardener that keeps our estate in Naples in line when we’re stuck in Boston. We used apples in place of clay pigeons, and I didn’t actually hit one until I was nine.

quattro. I’m left handed. cinque. When I was fifteen, a lovely friend surprised me with a custom-made David Yurman ring in the shape of a snake. It takes up most of my right forefinger, had to be refitted three times, and leaves quite the tan line, but I haven’t taken it off for more than an hour at a time since I got it. There is quite the story behind it, but I feel most people would be underwhelmed. It’s not to honor someone who died, it’s not a trinket from some ultra-poignant memory, but a fun memory, it was. I’ll see about posting a picture of it sometime soon.

sei. My love for Albert Spaggiari nears hero-worship.

sette. I get way too much enjoyment out of throwing things (rubber bands, folders, pens, anything) at the ceiling fans in my school’s study den. What I can’t decide, though, is if I like it more when the fans are going and the bauble flings off to create chaos elsewhere, or if I like getting stuff stuck on top of the fans, a la Marcheline’s spare pair of shorts for soccer. It might have resulted in her getting benched the next game for not being able to practice, but even she agreed that it was worth the look on the janitor’s face when he got it down.

otto. I drive far too fast, at all times.

neve. I am useless when it comes to technology. I can barely use my mobile correctly — and most of the time, I don’t. I’ll get a text back saying, why did you just email me? Did you just try to call me? And don’t get me started on Facebook, Twitter, HTML, and the like.

diece. I spend way too much time fantasizing about the 1920s. Speakeasies, and gangsters, and flappers — oh my!

Tah-dah! All of that, and without lying. I feel accomplished.