C'est moi
I am...Erica

There is no way to sum up 31 years in one page. Parts of my personality unfold in my journal, as well as in bits and pieces all over my sites.  I've also compiled a list of things I love and hate.  These are just odds and ends.

I am... 31, it's hard to believe.  I was born on August 28, 1971.  To give you an idea of the kind of egomaniac I am...it always seems to me that day ought to be a holiday.

I am... employed again.  It's still not quite what I want to do, but I'm thankful to have anything in this economy.  Finally, a job in New York that allows employees to have an outside life.

I am...not a Muslim.  This is my "I haven't washed/brushed/cut my hair" hat. The irony of it being mistaken for some Muslim religious marking is that I got the thing out of the Spiegel catalog one Spring or Summer, around '94 or so.

I am...not any religion, actually.  My father was raised Baptist, but belittled Christians.  My mother was raised Catholic, but didn't attend a mass from the time I was born until after my dad died.  I was a big-time bible-thumper when I was 12, completely addicted to the Christian radio soap opera Unshackled.

I am...biracial.  It comes up every now and then in my journal.  I get kind of crotchety when monoracial people try to tell me what my racial identity is, or what music I should like or make other presumptions about me.  The beauty of it is having an open heart and allowing people to become who they are as unique individuals.  I try to let people unfold, like a book, rather than being so arrogant as to think I can suss them up in 5 minutes.

I am...a New Yorker.

I am...also a Hoosier, a Californian and a San Franciscan.  One by birth, one by breeding, the last by choice.

I am...tough.  My big, black boots and I have earned quite the ass-kicking reputation.

I am...tender.  I've always been sensitive, perceptive and as in touch with my emotions as my intellect.  I think it's a great combination.

I am...an adult survivor of childhood abuse, as the saying goes.  Something about that strikes me as namby-pamby, yet "survivor" is a good word, since it's something I feared for so long I'd never do.  All things considered, I've thrived.  The strange thing is, my father thought he was preparing me for the harsh reality of the "real world," which hasn't been nearly as cruel and sadistic.

I am...a veritable old-timer on this here Internet.  I never thought it was weird to talk with strangers across the country or around the world, as I always had pen pals.

I am...an avid traveller.  Time permitting, my adventures and photos are posted in my travel journal.

I am...always a work in progress.  I think we all are...that's the beauty of living -- always learning and growing deeper into our selves.