Let's be friends! I think...

I've been lying about myself the whole time.

Oh, the shame, the guilt, the pain, the weight on my shoulders that I now lift off my back with my confession.

That's an exaggeration, of course.

But I've been thinking that you might have gotten the impression that my only joy in life is sarcasm. And it is. I mean it's not. I mean it's one of them, but it's not on the top of my list. Purell is. Purell makes me happier than mocking people. Really. I mean it.

So that you can get to know me better, I present you:

Stuff about me that you should know:

Might as well start with my greatest joys in life.

My greatest joys in life (in no real order)


1. Prayer (bet you wouldn't have guessed that, huh?)

2. God. (Maybe that should have come first?)

3. Croissants.

4. My siblings

5. Books.

6. Philosophy

7. My family

8. Sarcasm (I said top, I did!)

9. Stationary

10. Painting

11. Old books

12. Stationary

13. Purell

14. Spending time with my mom

15. Feeling that I'm making a difference in this world. And not by reducing the number of croissants in existence, mind you


Which brings me to:


Stuff I'm into:


1. Philosophy

2. Theology

3. Visual Arts

3. Art History

4. Music

5. Pick and choose vegetarianism (Thank you, Kevin.)

6. Nail Polish

7. Activism (yup, the cool kind where you picket and march.)

8. Politics

9. Jewelery

10. I ran out. Sorry

11. Which reminds me of: A cure for my ADD

Which brings me to:

My favorite color is red

I really like lying face down in the grass and smelling it's lovely, sweet smell.

I like reading poetry.

While eating apples.

And I cry more than I would like to admit.

I wish there would be a Renaissance revival. That would be so cool.

I like tie dye t-shirts. Strike 154 against me. Or for me. For me, I'm proud.

I hate Valentine's Day. I should protest that. Hmm...

I have four brothers. And Sofi. A sister obviously. That makes six, and I'm hoping, praying, wishing seven soon. Did you know that?

I'm currently organizing my inbox, and it's sooooo time consuming. It's driving my po little head crazyyy.

I like flowers. They smell nice. I like to stick them in my hair.

Oh, God. If I weren't such a bitter person, I would think I was this guy.

My hair looks like that 99.9% of the time, and I do play the guitar, but it doesn't have stickers promoting drug usage.

So I'm good.

Please, stand to the right with the rest of your kind

Everyone has a label.

And everyone labels everyone else, perhaps subconsciously, but without fail, with everyone, even the cashier at the grocery store. Yes, when you see him, you think this poor rocker dude is stuck here because he was too stubborn to finish high school. And you won't think about him ever again, but you labeled him. You put him in a category(s). In this case "rocker" or "high school drop out."

For the past couple of years people have labeled me a hippie. Personally, I think labels are for jars, so I don't put like to myself into a category. I don't appreciate it too much when others do it for me either.

I don't know exactly why or how the hippie thing started. Maybe it's my unkempt, curly hair. Maybe it's my tendency to start singing "Give Peace a Chance" whenever anyone starts arguing (though, I must admit, the reactions to my lovely song aren't too favorable). Maybe it's because my dream car isn't even a car. (It's a VW Bus, if you must know) Whatever the reason (and I can list a few more, now that I think about it, but that can wait) I can say that I never get to carried away with my weirdness.

Which all comes down to this video:


So, yeah.

I'm not a hippie, but, Christ, neither are they! I'm all for saving the planet (yeah, they call me a treehugger, too) but these people are mentally disturbed.

Thank you

Maria Teresa