As I sat down to write what basically feels like an “about me” MySpace page, all I can think about is those famous writers that have an entire paragraph on the back of their books dedicated to the life-altering fact that they live with their loving husband and three dogs in a ranch style home near Sacramento. None of the bios ever seem to be interesting.
I could easily make this a very dry biography about how I was raised in a small Midwestern town in a large family, going to church every Sunday and spending most days after school reading or doing homework. But that’s no fun.
So a quick rundown of the very few facts about myself that I might consider interesting. I have a double kneecap in my right knee (bipartitie patella, check that shit out), I’ve written multiple books and published none—bet yall are so surprised nobody wants to read what I write, aren’t you?—and, most importantly, I’m a firm believer that the only good pizza is cheese pizza.
I’m a blackbelt in Tae Kwon Do, and I plan on someday hiking the Appalachian Trail. I once asked my mom if we could feed my grandma to our pet Burmese python, because she was getting old and tired. I spent most of my high school years in church or feeling guilty about the time I didn’t spend in church.
I love dogs, especially big dogs. I love growing things, but the same day I told my boyfriend I wanted a giant garden was the day I realized I’d watered my cactus to death. I have a very addictive personality, which probably dates back to my “farmtown era” in early high school where I had no friends but thousands of virtual tomato plants.
I think my sarcasm is way funnier than it is, but I spent so many years with self-esteem that my only option at this point is to think I’m the best there is. I really want a bearded dragon, and I’m a paramedic starting school to become a nurse, although nothing would make me happier than being a stay at home mom with a few kids and a bright house.
That’s me. I’m a wealth of useless information, both about myself and the world around me. Never be afraid to ask.