I dunno. I don't usually read these memes in detail, but I often skim them, depending on how I'm feeling and who's filling them out. Sometimes when I'm at work I fill one out, stick it under an lj-cut, and bookend the cut with "I-don't-usually-fill-these-out" and "It's-okay,-I-didn't-read-yours-either" disclaimers. It's a good way to fill five hours when I've only got four hours of work.
I'm not filling out the 51 Things.
I'm not filling out the 51 Things because I know just what's going to happen when I do. It's a 20 minute exercise which will take me more than an hour because I don't know how to fill it out. Should I be honest? Should I be funny? Can I be both without sounding depressed and whiny?
I am depressed and whiny. The thing is, I don't want to be perceived that way, or at least, not unusually so. I don't like the reactions it generates, which are either eventual indifference ("oh look, Colin's whining again.") or sympathy (which makes me actually depressed). I'm fine. This is just who I am. Unfortunately, it doesn't translate well to any of these memes. When I revisit them months later, the honest answers always strike me as awkward, the funny answers strike me as not-all-that-clever-after-all, and the answers which were both honest and funny usually turn out, in retrospect, to be blatant lies.
Anyway, I had made some good headway into the 51 Things when I gave up on it, and that's too bad because you missed some really good answers. You would have learned new things about me (my legitimate legal reason for refusing to get tattoos and piercings, f'rinstance (questions #30 and #48)), shaken your head at jokes that don't even remotely count as jokes (question #28: "Is cheese like the best food ever, or what?" Answer: "Yes, cheese is nearly identical to the best food ever."), and chuckled knowingly at H.P. Lovecraft in-jokes (question #32: "Favorite college football team?" Answer: "That would be either the Miskatonic University Fightin' Cephalopods (Go Pods!) or the Innsmouth Community College Sea Devils."). You would have read my brilliant etymological dissection of the word "horcrux" (short answer: it's the base of a Jewish hill), learned that the last person I hugged was probably mether, and wept bitter tears over the gorgeously extravagant fruit platter I was going to make for a social function on Monday, had I not been sick.
You would have, but you can't because I deleted my answers, which, frankly, were not as good as I'm making them out to be. It's not really your loss. At all.