Who Am I?

On the right side of this page, about halfway down, loom the words, “About Me.” For months now, I have felt like I should fill in my profile, but have been stumped as to what to include. Do I keep it to a few short paragraphs, or make full use of the 1200 word limit? Should I approach it like a resume and touch on my education, work history, and personal interests? Or should I talk about why I write and how this blog came to be?

The real question is what do people who read my blog want to know about me? But since I don’t really know, I have decided to share a smattering of information and anecdotes that will hopefully give the flavor of “Who is Annie?”

Last week, I proudly posted a version of this story chock-full of details about my life, but I made the mistake of not thinking about identity theft. Actually, I paused before including my birthday, but then decided that anyone could find out that information if they tried and I wasn’t going to let identity theft paranoia interfere with my creative process. Mere moments after posting my column, I learned from a friend that listing my birthday was only a small part of the problem. I hadn’t thought about how the names of my family, pets, schools, and cities where I have lived could be used against me.

I deleted the post, but felt a little stupid and embarrassed. I should have known better. Here, I’m a modern woman who works in IT and I should be aware of identity theft issues. But, wait! Is my last sentence even safe? Is it okay to share my gender and industry? You probably could have guessed that I was female from the column title...after all, there aren’t too many men named “Annie.” And there are millions of people working in IT, so that’s not too personal. But it begs the question, “What is safe to share?”

I’m sure I could find articles on the internet offering guidelines, but, instead, I’m going to strip down my original anecdotes of anything that could uniquely identify me to a bad guy. Here is what’s left:

In the Beginning
I was born. Not a terribly original opening, but safe as far as identity theft goes. Since I have the act of “being born” in common with every other person on the planet, I’m certain the identity thieves can’t use it against me. Originally, I included some details on when and where the blessed event took place, but suffice it to say that I was born...somewhere, during one of the twelve months of the year, sometime in the last century.

Sam I Am
I’m not sharing whether or not I have siblings, but I think it’s safe to say that my Dad would have liked me to be a son and I did my best to be just that. I was a tomboy through and through.

Splish Splash
I am a good swimmer, but I am leaving out the story of how that came to be.

The Motherland
I speak German well enough to have casual conversations. I consider sauerkraut cooked with a nice ham hock and potatoes a perfect meal. And with it's festive markets, roasted nuts, and spiced wine, Germany is one of my favorite places to spend Christmas, which is exactly where I will be this year.

School Daze
Kindergarten: In winter, a friend dared me to stick my tongue on the metal jungle gym. Thank goodness I knew better than to pull it off and was rescued by a bucket of warm water.

1st grade: My friend Travis showed me his penis. I wasn't terribly impressed.

4th grade: My class kept pet white rats, and I still think rats are kind of cute.

6th grade: I had to wear a uniform that included a skirt and was mortified. Tomboy to girl was a tough transition.

8th grade: My friends put up a birthday poster in the commons and someone wrote the “C” word on it (rhymes with “punt”). I felt like a loser.

12th grade: My first boyfriend asked me to marry him, but I said “no.” He promptly got a new girlfriend.

University: For six months, my sister and I lived in a neighborhood so rough that pizza places would not deliver to our address.

The Stinking Rose
When I was eight years old, I learned the recipe for garlic toast—sliced bread, butter, garlic salt, broiler—and made it for breakfast almost every day. Life took on new meaning! Give me garlic and I'm happy.

The Stinking Stink
Cheese on the other hand has the opposite effect on me. While I've learned over the decades that a few mild cheeses are tolerable, in general cheese has been a substance to be avoided at all costs.

Thelma & Louise
My grandmothers were complete opposites:

Grandma was born and raised in a rural farming town. Her grandparents were homesteaders.
Grandmother was born and raised in an upper-class German family.

Grandma wanted to be a librarian, but she settled for the role of farmer's wife and mother.
Grandmother was a child prodigy pianist and a star opera singer who had a big career before settling into family life.

Grandma played baseball with me.
Grandmother played classical music.

Grandma taught me how to collect chicken eggs.
Grandmother taught me to be a lady.

Grandma, if she were alive today, would still use a wood-burning stove to boil water to do the dishes.
Grandmother, if she were alive today, would Twitter like a teenager.

Thanks to them, I am equally comfortable on a farm or at the opera.

On my Soapbox
I had barely heard of Amway when I joined in my late 20's. By the time I left “the business,” I was well aware of two things: 1) Amway makes great products and 2) I don't want to sell them.

The Pursuit of Me
I was first introduced to the concept of personal development through a course I took in 1993. The water fountain must have been dispensing Kool-Aid, because I have been a “what makes me tick” junky every since. Why do I do what I do and think what I think? What are my intentions? What parts of me have I tucked away into Jung's proverbial shadow? No matter how deep I dig, there's always more to discover.

The Writer Within
I have always been a writer. In school, I'd like nothing better than to hear the teacher say, “The term paper will be 50% of your grade.” Cake walk! Writing has always been a part of my work, but now I'm exploring creative writing. Luckily, my interest in personal development gives me a lot of fodder. And even luckier for me, I have this blog as an outlet, and wonderful people like you to read it.

Do you know me better after reading this? I’ll let you be the judge of that, but I know that these few snippets of memories don’t really tell the story of me. I’d love to share the deep crevasses of my heart and soul, but I have yet to explore them myself. This blog is one of my ways of doing that, so maybe the best way to know me is to just keep reading.