I've needed to update my About page for a long time now. Since I now have one more child than I did when I last wrote something for the About page, and that one child is now talking, it seems long past due. So here goes:
Hi, I'm Alice. This is my website.
Done and done. Now to move on with some of the more important matters of the day like finding a place to put the wok (seriously, where ARE you supposed to store those things? And on a related note, you're not supposed to wash them, right? I don't think so because they don't fit in the dishwasher very well.)
But wait, you want more? Fine.
I was born a poor black child. I remember the days, sittin' on the porch with my family, singin' and dancin'...
Oh wait, you want the truth? ::sigh:: Fine.
It occurs to me that when you ask someone to write about themselves, you aren't really asking for the truth. What you're asking for is a version of events as seen through their eyes, which has bias and one-sidedness inherently built into the process. What's contained in this website is just that: my perceptions of things that I experience - navel gazing at it's finest. But here's the thing: I've tried a score of times over the years to keep a journal. Something I could pass down to my children so they can know who I was. Something the Prophet says to do. Something for posterity. I've started scores of notebooks, computer files, diaries, leather bound journals with my name imprinted in gold leafing on the cover, and a host of other forms and for some reason, I've never been able to keep one going. I fill up the first dozen pages with the best of intentions and then the remaining empty space sits there mocking me for years to come, until one day I lose patience with its taunts and throw it in the garbage. But here, on the Interweb, I've had this blog and written pretty consistently now for going on four years. That's some kind of record, right? I think the fact that no one's going to read it immediately in a journal is a DISmotivating factor for me. For some reason, the idea that someone, somewhere in this generation might see, connect, or find some flicker of relevance in what I write is enough to make me want to continue. If you write it, they will come. So when I get all pious and "This blog is not for you; this blog is for me" in the pages here, you should probably know that I'm lying. Truth number one.
Truth number two: My name is not Alice.
I grew up in many places - mostly in the Western U.S. - and then came to the Washington, D.C. area after college for a job. It was not the first time I'd been to D.C., but it was the first time I had lived here. Let me be clear, I love the District; it's one of my favorite cities in the world. But if you don't live here, you should probably be aware that this place is an island surrounded by reality and is like no other. So after I moved my life here from three thousand miles away and then figured out they'd hired me to do a job without any thought to how I would accomplish that job (you want to know how little thought? I was hired to be a therapist in a prison and the office they assigned to me was OUTSIDE THE PRISON WALLS - kind of makes it hard to see clients that way), I realized that working for the District during the Barry administration maybe hadn't quite turned out to be the experience I'd expected. I told my friends and family that I felt like Alice who'd just stepped through the looking glass into a world that didn't run the way I thought it should. I started using characters from Alice in Wonderland to identify my co-workers to friends. My boss was the Queen of Hearts (crazy), the Cheshire Cat (someone who was there to orient me on the first day and seemed sane, but then disappeared for weeks at a time), the Mock Turtle (a dude who thought he was in charge but then whined about how no one ever listened to him - because he wasn't the boss), etc. It just kind of stuck with me over the years.
A few years ago, when this whole web log craze hit the world and me being the joiner that I am (ho ho ha ha hee hee ha ha - no seriously, that makes me laugh) I decided to give it a try. In high school and college, I loved to write but since then, all I'd written were SOAP notes and memos on Post-its. So I figured if I did this thing all the kids were calling "blogging," it might force me to use some creativity every once in awhile. No one ever said you had to be a good writer to publish on the internet, right? But I did want to be smart about putting my name on stuff and since my family members have pretty unusual names, I used monikers for them too - you know, to avoid the eventual dooce-ing of myself for shooting my mouth off about something at work and the possible Google-stalking and murder of my children. That's when the Alice motif once again reared its head.
Truth number three: As of this writing, I live with one husband (The KingofHearts); two girls (The Dormouse and The Caterpillar); at times throughout the year, one step-son (The KnaveofHearts); and two ill-mannered Siamese cats (Maggie and Barker - we'd have gone for Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum, but I thought that was pushing it - also: kitties do not care about getting fired for something written about them on the interweb). That ought to give you enough background to figure everything else out.
Truth number four: Hey, there's a lot of good stuff in here, and some of it... is factual.
Hi, I'm Alice. This is my website.Done and done. Now to move on with some of the more important matters of the day like finding a place to put the wok (seriously, where ARE you supposed to store those things? And on a related note, you're not supposed to wash them, right? I don't think so because they don't fit in the dishwasher very well.)
But wait, you want more? Fine.
I was born a poor black child. I remember the days, sittin' on the porch with my family, singin' and dancin'...
Oh wait, you want the truth? ::sigh:: Fine.
It occurs to me that when you ask someone to write about themselves, you aren't really asking for the truth. What you're asking for is a version of events as seen through their eyes, which has bias and one-sidedness inherently built into the process. What's contained in this website is just that: my perceptions of things that I experience - navel gazing at it's finest. But here's the thing: I've tried a score of times over the years to keep a journal. Something I could pass down to my children so they can know who I was. Something the Prophet says to do. Something for posterity. I've started scores of notebooks, computer files, diaries, leather bound journals with my name imprinted in gold leafing on the cover, and a host of other forms and for some reason, I've never been able to keep one going. I fill up the first dozen pages with the best of intentions and then the remaining empty space sits there mocking me for years to come, until one day I lose patience with its taunts and throw it in the garbage. But here, on the Interweb, I've had this blog and written pretty consistently now for going on four years. That's some kind of record, right? I think the fact that no one's going to read it immediately in a journal is a DISmotivating factor for me. For some reason, the idea that someone, somewhere in this generation might see, connect, or find some flicker of relevance in what I write is enough to make me want to continue. If you write it, they will come. So when I get all pious and "This blog is not for you; this blog is for me" in the pages here, you should probably know that I'm lying. Truth number one.
Truth number two: My name is not Alice.
I grew up in many places - mostly in the Western U.S. - and then came to the Washington, D.C. area after college for a job. It was not the first time I'd been to D.C., but it was the first time I had lived here. Let me be clear, I love the District; it's one of my favorite cities in the world. But if you don't live here, you should probably be aware that this place is an island surrounded by reality and is like no other. So after I moved my life here from three thousand miles away and then figured out they'd hired me to do a job without any thought to how I would accomplish that job (you want to know how little thought? I was hired to be a therapist in a prison and the office they assigned to me was OUTSIDE THE PRISON WALLS - kind of makes it hard to see clients that way), I realized that working for the District during the Barry administration maybe hadn't quite turned out to be the experience I'd expected. I told my friends and family that I felt like Alice who'd just stepped through the looking glass into a world that didn't run the way I thought it should. I started using characters from Alice in Wonderland to identify my co-workers to friends. My boss was the Queen of Hearts (crazy), the Cheshire Cat (someone who was there to orient me on the first day and seemed sane, but then disappeared for weeks at a time), the Mock Turtle (a dude who thought he was in charge but then whined about how no one ever listened to him - because he wasn't the boss), etc. It just kind of stuck with me over the years.
A few years ago, when this whole web log craze hit the world and me being the joiner that I am (ho ho ha ha hee hee ha ha - no seriously, that makes me laugh) I decided to give it a try. In high school and college, I loved to write but since then, all I'd written were SOAP notes and memos on Post-its. So I figured if I did this thing all the kids were calling "blogging," it might force me to use some creativity every once in awhile. No one ever said you had to be a good writer to publish on the internet, right? But I did want to be smart about putting my name on stuff and since my family members have pretty unusual names, I used monikers for them too - you know, to avoid the eventual dooce-ing of myself for shooting my mouth off about something at work and the possible Google-stalking and murder of my children. That's when the Alice motif once again reared its head.
Truth number three: As of this writing, I live with one husband (The KingofHearts); two girls (The Dormouse and The Caterpillar); at times throughout the year, one step-son (The KnaveofHearts); and two ill-mannered Siamese cats (Maggie and Barker - we'd have gone for Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum, but I thought that was pushing it - also: kitties do not care about getting fired for something written about them on the interweb). That ought to give you enough background to figure everything else out.
Truth number four: Hey, there's a lot of good stuff in here, and some of it... is factual.
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