OK, so I decided I should update my bio b/c I've changed a considerable deal (in my brain) since then.
Numero Uno: Ya can't help/takecareof/beniceto other people successfully if you don't do the same for/to yourself.
# Two: If you ain't taking time to think, you might as well be filbert pitching with Barry Bonds.
Nombre Trois: No one knows what filbert pitching is anymore. *sigh*
Heyo Fouro: Community is DANG IMPORTANT and I am a fighter.
Number 5: Slap me if I eat while reading/homeworking/writing/contemplating. Long story. Longer than I want to tell here.
# Six: Pain is a very relative standard, which is why people who go around whining "MY PAIN IS WORSE THAN YOUR PAIN!!!!!! *tearteartear*" really piss me off.
Nombre Sept: Goths are frickin hilarious, despite what everyone thinks.
Number Eight: I am Sarah, SahSah, Cheese Nathaniel Crackerz, Fromage, Jaws, and NO ONE can take that away from me. I might be able to convince myself I've taken it from myself, but I won't have, really. Kind of like Ceremony.
# Nine: You've got to play to live. Play until you're tired, read until you're dreaming, think until you die. And afterwards, if possible.
Numero Diez: I've never had an OBE or a NDE. Sorry. Doesn't mean I'm any less world-oriented and bizarre.
Number 11: I'm still a Romantic, believe it or not. Dark, Transcendental, heck yeah. Only now I'm also a Realist, which kind of screws things up. So we'll compromise and say my emotions and beliefs are Romantic, but my sensibilities and factoids are Realist.
# 12: I'm vaguely superstitious, so we'll aim for thirteen.
Number Thirteen: The moral dilemma of humanity: too in, or too out? Where's the balance? BALANCE?!?!?!?!?!? Doesn't that mean gray? Entropy? What I DON'T like? What paper graders don't like? What readers don't like? We're all ping-pong balls, YES! Summers in creek beds and bedrooms, standing in the rain, isn't strange how you can smell air conditioning?
Me: I write, I draw, I make funny noises, I amuse people, I love, I've been lead to believe I am loved, I like rubbing my feet on my dog's belly, nothing smells better than brakish wet leaves (ask Hobbes), Lewis Carrol was on drugs, I DO NOT write vampire stories, chick lit makes me sick (sorry), I'm learning to relax, back where Ah'm frum ternaders was sumpin ta worry bout y'all Yanks don't know nuddin bout storms hear?, no I never spoke like that, I am SO grateful for the hand life has dealt me, I really enjoy using cliches and awful metaphors like that previous one, and if you want to know anymore you'll have to ask me.