Wilkommen, bienvenue, bonjour...

Hello, my darling anklebiters... If you're reading this introduction post, then you likely already know me. Either you followed me over from Livejournal or Facebook or one of my various other social networking ventures, or you have the bad luck to know me in real life. However, there is the chance that we just stumbled upon each other like two ships passing in the dark, and in the interest of establishing a good relationship off the bat I'd like to post a brief biography about myself. Indulge me, won't you?

I live in Texas, in a small town that's exactly the midpoint between Dallas and Austin. I was born and raised here, and live with my mother, which is unquestionably cool despite my age creeping near the mid-twenties mark. My mom is my best friend, my biggest critic and ally in one, and my wingman; she is a crap roommate but she knows how to shop and is pretty good at putting the groceries away, so I don't mind sharing space with her. She's usually mistaken for my big sister when we go out, and I can't decide if that makes me look old or her look young. She also has MS, multiple sclerosis for you non-WebMD types, and I get to do fun stuff like inject her with medicine once a week and seal Ziploc baggies for her when her hands stop working right. Also, no matter where I take her, she ends up making more friends than me.

I also have a dog, whose name is Charley (after the Steinbeck book). He's half -Schnauzer, half-poodle, super-neurotic, and every time I go to the bathroom without him tailing me he becomes convinced that I'm pulling an Amelia Earhart on him. He's a rescue dog I got when he was only four months old; he came to me covered in bite marks, scabs, missing chunks of hair, underweight, and peeing everywhere any time you looked at him sideways. Now he's super-happy and borderline-fat, but he still reminds me of a methed-out Woody Allen sometimes.

I love photography, and I carry my camera around with me almost everywhere. I annoy everyone around me by constantly making them stop what they're doing to strike a pose. I sometimes even do actual gigs, like shooting live concerts, promotional shoots, headshots, or weddings. Those are pretty cool because they mean that I can put gas in my car.

I'm also really into promotions; I'm a member of like six street teams and while I'm not as active on them as I used to be, I still love the thrill of helping spread the word about something I love or believe in. My dream job would be to be some kind of tour manager or promoter, traveling on the road with a band and documenting their journey.

However, my hobbies, fun though they are, don't pay the bills, which is where real life comes in. For eight years now I've worked at a kickass independent store that's three-quarters used books, one quarter comic books, and a smattering of antiques and estate sales thrown in for flavor. The crew I work with are pretty eclectic and fun, and they make every day an adventure. I'm the epitome of geek chic, a fat chick with glasses and a nosering who tries to convince customers to buy Neil Gaiman novels and spends a lot of time on eBay researching how much a tiny glass fish from France is worth (for the record, more than a month's car payment). I love my customers, even though there are a great many days when I feel like Dante from "Clerks" from the minute I wake up until the time I crash out in bed.

So I guess that's it, the basic information about me. This blog is an experiment, a place for me to post thoughts and essays and occasionally-maybe-hopefully-humorous rants and raves, a place for me to expand people's horizons by reviewing music, books and movies I'm currently stuffing my own cerebral cortex with, and a haven for the ones like me. Maybe through our weirdness, we can find kinship.

So in the words of Shel Silverstein, who could always say it better than me (and rocked a SWEET beard while doing so):

“If you are a dreamer, come in!

 If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar, a hoper, a prayer, a magic-bean-buyer,

If you're a pretender, come sit by my fire, for we have some flax-golden tales to spin!

Come in! Come in!”