About Meg
It seems funny to do an “About Me” page since, well… the blog is “About Me.”
But what is the Internet for, if not redundancy?
I was born in 1974, along with People Magazine, Dungeons and Dragons, the Volkswagen Rabbit (my parents had an orangey-red one), and UPC labels.
Despite this, I am not a celebrity, a wizard, as compact as I wish to be, or scannable.
My actual birthday, April 19th, would later see many newsworthy events, among them the end of the Branch Davidian Standoff, the tragedy of the Oklahoma City Bombings, and the election of Pope Benedict XVI. Just to name a few.
Other baby girls born that year? Kate Moss, Posh Spice, Alanis Morrissette, Jenna Jameson, Natasha Henstridge, and Andrea Corr. Good heavens.
The boys? Steve Nash, Derek Jeter, Jose Vidro, Tim Henman, and Leonardo DiCaprio.
I don’t think I have anything in common with any of those people. I’ve certainly never dated Gisele Bundchen.
I live in the best apartment ever. My deck is where Jesus will return when he comes again.
I have a BA in English and Political Science, partly because I meant to go to law school, but mostly because both subjects allowed me to be incredibly vague and meandering. Much like this blog.
I’ve worked as a nanny, a barista, a camp counsellor, a program director, an election official, and a freelance writer. Now I’m ensconced as a writer for a company in Vancouver.
I’ve never: been on a reality show; thrown a firecracker at anyone; been arrested; thrown a fit at anyone in customer service; caused a car accident; written a book; or killed a man.
I spend way too much money on organic ANYTHING, and would rather be outside, given the option. Unless there are bees.
I have: jumped off a cliff; been suspended from a bible school; eaten a spider; thrown a javelin into the sidelines of a track meet by accident; and consumed 35 shots of espresso in one day.
I have taught: windsurfing; snorkeling; basic grammar; kindergarten art; and how to administer epinephrine to an orange.
I am: single; klutzy; emphatic; email-addicted; a hand-talker; prone to wheezing laughter; and vehemently opposed to a lack of cowbell.
I know how to: make a really good pie; do basic HTML; grill the tastiest lemon chicken known to man; swear in eight languages; convince almost any baby to stop crying; break multiple bones (of my own) in a single mishap; and do convincing accents, if need be.
I refuse to: call any man “Daddy” except my father; cheer for the Broncos or the Cowboys; eat anything banana-flavoured that isn’t a banana; wear pants with more than three zippers; run naked through the streets of Bountiful, Utah; or put on shoes unless I have to.
I might try to: write a novel; go kiteboarding; live in Prague, study for my Masters in Journalism; get hitched to a decent human being; and stop doing that weird thing with my toes.
I’m better at laughing than crying. Logical, abstract, measured, and messy, all at once.
I probably like hockey more than you do.
I love my mom and dad.
This blog isn’t about anything; it just is.
As soon as it manages to be about something, I’ll let you know.
