Having written about not ever letting myself be my true self in public, maybe it’s time I start honoring who I really am.
Ok, ready? Truthy truth? Who I really am? Here you go.
I am a hard core geek. I watch Doctor Who and wear the t-shirts (mostly at home, if we’re honest). I mostly only read urban fantasy, stories about werewolves, vampires, faeries, and other paranormal stuff. Though I’m on a bit of a Space Opera kick these days. I love, love, love comic book movies. Most of the people in my “real” life do not understand this, like, at all, so I pretend my obsession isn’t one.
I write. All the time. In notebooks. On this blog. On other blogs. On Facebook. In more notebooks. I’d rather write more than pretty much anything else. Only thing I wish I wrote more of is fiction. One day I’m determined to write another novel and yet…I don’t work on it, like ever.
I’m a sucker for candy. Not chocolate. Gummy candy. Preferably slightly stale. I’m one of those adults that keep candy stores in business. I always feel slightly guilty when I indulge. OK, a lot guilty. And yes, I hide candy from the kids. Shut up.
I watch TV. Like a lot. Dramas. Comedies. Please no reality TV unless it’s Inked or Tree House Masters, or some cooking show. I get pathetically attached to characters. I get tragically drawn into story lines. TV is full of my friends. I stay up too late watching TV most nights.
I hate housework. I usually trick myself into doing it by carrying around my iPad and streaming TV shows while I clean/launder/cook/etc. Despite all that, my house is never as clean or as well organized as it “should” be.
I love my friends. I have a variety of people I love. They each have their own strengths and weaknesses. I love them despite, or rather because of all of them. I’d do anything for my friends. I’m pretty sure they know that. And yet, I’m terrified that none of them like me quite as much as I like them.
I’m determined to raise strong, competent adults. I love my kids dearly. They mean more to me than words could ever express. And yet, I’m tough and demanding on them. My kids will not be victims of helicopter or lawnmower parenting. I do often worry if I’m too hard and too demanding and if it’ll make a difference in the end or if I’m wasting precious coddling time.
I try so very hard to not be judgmental. We’re all doing the best we can. I recognize that. And I recognize that we’re all on different paths. But I’m also human. So sometimes the judgement breaks through. Sorry.
I adore my dog. I didn’t think I would. I try not to be ridiculous about it, but, let’s be honest, I have more trouble dropping her off at the kennel when we leave town than I ever did dropping the kids off at daycare.
Good food above all else. No, seriously. I love to eat. Tasty food makes me happy. Tasty food with good people? Nirvana. I mostly consider low-brow food to be the tastiest. Burgers. Pizza. Grilled cheese dipped in tomato soup. Donuts. Oh, donuts, how I love thee…
Nothing panics me more than not having something to read. There are books in every room of my house and my Kindle is always loaded with at least three or four unread books. Words, even more important than good food. Don’t ask me how much I spend on book. That’s between me, Amazon, and the IRS.
I am harder on myself than on anyone else. And I’ll never measure up to my own expectations.
I’m constantly coming up with new projects, plans, business ideas. I believe in all of them. Just like I believe in a lot of people who want my help making their businesses successful. I fully believe that one day, one of these projects or businesses will really make me rich or at least very fulfilled. One of them…though I’m not really sure I’ll have the wherewithal or gumption to ride anything out to the end.
I’ve always believed I was an underachiever. This makes people laugh, and yet, still fully convinced it’s true.
I have no idea what people think of me. I try not to think about it too much because I’m not sure I’d like the answer. I’d much rather pretend everyone thinks I’m made of pure awesome. Humor me.
Your turn, who are you really?