Wilkommen (or something like that)

I should probably start off by introducing myself. I’m a girl. That’s the only uncomplicated thing about me. Everything else usually involves a story. Even basic information is difficult to explain, such as, where am I from. When you are first meeting someone this is a pretty standard question to ask; no one ever realizes that it will result in a 7 minute long discourse. I’m anxiously awaiting the time when I’ll get to minute 4 and the person will get bored and walk away. That’s what I would do if someone spent 7 minutes telling me where they were from. That or I’d just be honest and say, “Look, I’m just trying to be polite here, I’m not interested in your autobiography.”

So where am I from? I’m so glad you asked! I was born in Fulton, MO. It’s a tiny town that people, even native Missourians, always say they’ve never heard of. But they are lying. (Not to be harsh.) Fulton is actually where Winston Churchill made his Iron Curtain speech in 1946. I would venture to say that most Americans read about this in 7^th grade history. I would also venture to say that most Americans don’t remember anything from 7^th grade history. But I digress. So I lived in Missouri until I was 5-ish and from there we moved to Texas. If you’re from Texas you probably just silently (or not so silently) cheered, the rest of you probably groaned. I know Texans can be obnoxious, prideful and loud but, well, we can’t help it. It’s in the water or something. So anyways, I lived in Texas until I was 16. Then at the ripe old age of 17 I left to go to college in Texas’ much-despised neighbor, Oklahoma. I lived there for the obligatory 4 years of college and then I landed in my current location of Breckenridge, Colorado. I think you are starting to see how answering this question can turn into such a performance. Frankly I could go into much more detail about all the towns I’ve lived in and the purpose behind each move, but I want you to at least keep reading through the introduction.

Recently I’ve taken a new approach to answering the question, “Where are you from?” First I scrunch up my face like I’m thinking hard (because I am) and then at random I name one of the places I’ve lived in. Usually there is someone nearby that already knows at least a little about me and when they hear me say, “I’m from Missouri” they get confused and ask, “I thought you were from Texas?” I simply say, “I am” and walk away. This really confuses people and I find it very entertaining.

Even questions that are supposed to be one or two word answers turn into sermons with me. What’s my favorite color? Well it depends. If I have to pick a crayon out of a box I’ll grab pink. If I’m picking a sweater I’m going to go with green. If it’s a car I’ll choose black. If it’s home décor I’ll likely choose blue or brown. And these choices are only valid for today; there is no telling if they will be different tomorrow. What sort of music do you listen to? Well I like country but nothing too twangy. I like rock but not if there is yelling. I like rap but only if it’s something I can dance to and nothing too foul. I like jazz but only new jazz; the old stuff is just hard for me to get into. I like Christian music but only if it’s not marketed as Christian music. I like Classical but nothing to obscure. And of course I like pop but not if the target audience is 11-15 year old girls. Answers with me are never “blue” or “country” or even “yes”, there’s always more to it with me.

There’s something I haven’t told you yet. You’ve probably already figured it out but I probably better lay it out on the table. (I find that expression a bit awkward.) I love to talk. It doesn’t matter where I am, who I’m talking to, or what I’m talking about. I simply love to talk. I’d talk to a cactus about fiscal responsibility if there weren’t anyone else around. Also, I don’t need to know anything about what I’m talking about to want to talk about it. I’d talk about collateralized debt obligations if I were with an investment banker or suture methods if I were conversing with a doctor. Sure I don’t know the first thing about suture methods. The only reason I even know the term is from watching Grey’s Anatomy. But you can bet that I won’t let a lack of knowledge on a topic get in the way of talking about it! In fact, this love of talking is probably what prompted me to even consider writing a blog. It’s like talking with my fingers to my computer screen. I say all this to warn you; if I start trying to tell you about economic theories or anything related to philosophy, I don’t actually know what I’m talking about.

Now, just so you know what you are getting yourself in to, I’m going to give you a brief (as if I’m ever brief) synopsis of myself. I’m rude. I don’t believe in sugar-coating things or beating around the bush. I’m bossy, I don’t know where I inherited this trait from….. oh wait, yes I do. My mom is possibly the only person in the world who is bossier than I am. I’m selfish. I think this comes from being an only child for almost 10 years and an only (and much adored!) grandchild for 7 years. I’m incredibly snobby. This is a strange trait for a girl like me to possess, particularly when you consider that the early years of my life were spent on a farm. At one point I even had a dreadful mullet. (I’ve only admitted this to maybe 4 people in my life but I’m writing it here for your enjoyment, you better appreciate it!) But even then I was a snob. I once told my uncle that I wouldn’t hug him because his hair was dirty. I refused to wear anything but handmade dresses from my Grammy for an entire year. And of course I’m loud. I seem to lack the ability to control my volume; I’ve even had to have my hearing checked on several occasions as a result of this (it’s fine by the way). I’d like to say that I just told you all the horrible awful things about me and then continue on to tell you about how nice and considerate and generous I am, but I’m not a liar. (Actually, that may be my one redeeming good quality.) So that’s me. It often amazes me that I even have any friends but they always seem to stick around. I pretty sure they aren’t really hanging out with me, rather they are just waiting to see what hysterical (for them) disaster I’m going to find myself in next. I don’t mind, just as long as someone is around for me to talk to I could care less why they are there!