Me!

Who are you? Is the question someone asked me many years ago. As I pondered the q. My mind raced, as if it was a race car finishing its final lap for first place. And finally verbiage flowed, with with the biatchness and superficial,snobbery of my persona. When I concluded my, bourgeois, self loving, glass full, explanation of who I was, it shocked me to no ends, as each word left my lips, I realized just how self absorbed I was as a person, strung out on my own accolades, atta boys and material things. Blowing my saxaphone, like a one piece band, with the world as my audience screaming for a encore. It took the wind out of my sail. It forced me to reflect upon self, and since that time, I have come to realize who I am, I think the light bulb moment happened to me in my late 20's. Since that time, when I am asked that question, the prior thesis is no longer needed. I know my glass is 1/2 full, I am a daughter, the little sister, good friend, emotional, a ride or die chick, agressive, curse like a sailor, incest survivor, rape survivor, great listener, extremely introverted, nuturer, love jazz, a great secret keeper, insomniac, and I freaking love to read, and write. I miss my Auntie F., and I cry for her a lot. Stubborn, that's Moi! Do you know who you are?

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