I don't really know how to describe myself. My name means victorious one, though it has yet to help me. My personality changes every day, depending on who I'm with, where I am, and what I'm doing. Who I am now is not who I was yesterday, and it is not who I will be tomorrow. As I learn and discover more and more information everyday, I alter myself to accept new thoughts and data into my personal schema. Some aspects of my personality conflict with others, and in different situations I sometimes seem like a completely different person.
I really don't do that much. I like movies and a chosen few television shows that I watch religiously. I like to write. I love everything about music--listening to CD's, singing, going to concerts, and making pathetic attempts at playing guitar. Music affects my mood, my feelings, and my outlook on life. I also spend a lot of time on computers. Through e-mail, I communicate with friends I know in real life and friends I've only met on-line. I've spent numerous hours working on my webpage and I actually spent time learning HTML. Sad isn't it?
Futher descriptions... I go to Florida State. I have trust issues. I don't like people all that much. I cut my hair. My eyes change color with my mood. I'm short. My shrink once told me that I'm just a "sexual person." I'm loud. I like 80's music and folk rock. I love black. I would be happy if I could wear sweatshirts for the rest of my life. I'm supposed to die at age 62 on January 5th in the year 2046 (don't ask). I tend to say things at the exact wrong moment. I actually read for enjoyment, but I rarely have time. I am shy. I drink more than I should. I smoke too much. I tend to get into trouble a lot. I fight with myself. I never talk about what I feel, but I feel so much. I'm scared of rejection. I have visited the edge of sanity and fallen over it into a world of hazy insanity-- and managed the daily struggle of crawling back out if it. I have VERY vivid dreams that come true sometimes. There are days that I don't want to do anything but lay down and cry for no reason at all. Days where I have to tell myself how to walk and force my legs to move across campus.
Would it even actually make that much of a difference to you how I describe myself? I mean, if I told you I tend to date people who are quite messed up, if I told you that I don't like people that are too nice, if I told you that sometimes I think I'm fat and other times I think I'm outrageously sexy, if I told you I've had crushes on some of my best girlfriends, if I told you that I am finally with someone that I can let myself love, if I told you I can't do math worth shit, if I told you I have fetishes guitarists and I'm tired of East Cobb, but I'm scared to leave, would it really make that much of a difference? No, I didn't think so.
So, just take me for the nasty, bitter-old-bag in training that I so merrily am, and love me for it.
