It's Who I Am

I listen to Dashboard Confessional, Clutch, The Dissociatives, and all sorts of other music. At high volume. In my minivan.

I dye my hair repeatedly, and usually a color not found on any natural human hair.


I'm the worst kind of bitch in the world: The stubborn type who turns bulldog when backed into a corner, and won't back down if I know I'm right. If you're someone I love, I will bend over backward to accommodate you, often to my own detriment.

My friends are my family. Enough said.

My politics are liberal. I believe in right to choice, gay marriage, and all that other stuff that would make any true right-winger go ballistic. I'm very against Arizona's new immigration law, and not just because I don't live in Arizona.

Like baby brother's mom phrased it once I may be white, "but not white enough to be white."

I laugh at dirty jokes. I get drunk twice a year. I don't believe that tattoos, blue/red/purple/green hair and piercings affect my ability to parent my two little boys.

I co-slept and breastfed and let my kids set their own schedules.

I'm short and poor and Irish and I usually have a fine layer of rage against the rich conservative town I live in bubbling just below the surface.

I'm loyal to those who deserve it.

I work hard at whatever job I have. I'd rather live in my small house and drive my thirteen year old car and know I worked for it than have a mansion and a Maserati handed to me.

I still talk occasionally to my two best friends from high school, J & J, and I love them both like they were my older brothers (which, in fact, was one of my favorite freshman year daydreams, that they were my older brothers).

I base my opinions around my own personal experiences, and I refuse to give advice on something I've never experienced.

That's who I am, and I make no apologies.