Self-Portrait

I am a hodge-podge of odds and ends, a swirl of phrases from decades past and debris from the hurricane in my head. There is a father-me, a mother-me, and the objective me that philosophically ponders herself and the rest of the world from a cloud that I imagined.

I am a firm believer in the trustworthy until proven untrustworthy school of thought. Some call me naive, others an optimist. I, however, am a realist. My heart is so big it controls my brain and my eyes, unfortunately, are of the sad puppy dog persuasion. I enjoy walking in the heat but hate humidity. I am consistently inconsistent but somehow love routine. I am an oxymoron in the extreme, which might come from there being three people that are all me.

I will never stop believing I can help people in need and I frequently pick up trash, but don't go calling me a saint because more often than not I have something nasty to say or think.

I don't believe in small talk because I'd rather say words that mean something. I hate McDonald's and all it stands for and I am always wishing that I was not a middle-class white American, the ultimate in cliches.

I can read for hours and I sleep when I'm angry. It doesn't take much for me to absolutely love you and my guilty pleasure is boys who barely talk to me. Maybe I get a kick out of futility?

Here I sit, hoping I've painted you a moderately accurate self-portrait.