One has to keep one’s audience happy, and popular demand states that I must update my ‘about me’ page.
I hate ‘about me’ pages.
You have to come up with a few choices words to define yourself, make a statement about who you are and a what you encompass. But that’s telling–it’s cheating–it’s like reading the end of the story first!
Nonetheless, I realize people need to be able to read the front and back flap and see whether or not they want to crack the book open. So:
I was orphaned at an early age (3 or 4 or so, I don’t remember precisely, having been very young) and went to live with my aging great-aunt in her apartment in the city. I was a very good girl, dutiful and quiet and responsible, and so therefore rarely paid any mind. It’s the greatest disguise, being well-behaved, because then you’re not under scrutiny and can do a rather lot more.
Before I had finished high-school, I’d gotten myself thoroughly involved in some very brave, daring–might I even say heroic?–work with the under-privileged class. Although I wasn’t doing anything morally wrong (indeed, much good was coming of my work!), I was certainly circumventing an awful lot of bureaucratic red tape, and as such, breaking the law. Lots of laws, probably.
I suppose you think that in the end it caught up to me, but no. I was ‘caught’–or at the very least, taken in to custody and accused–but it was actually for I crime I was no way responsible for or even aware of. However, in order to prove myself innocent in the face of these false accusations, I would have to blow my cover. I was sentenced for the crime I did not commit.
Curiously, the local barber, of all people, didn’t believe I was guilty of this crime, and determined to prove me innocent. His investigative research did cause him to find out about my work with the under-class (which included many ex-convicts). However, he also inadvertently tipped this hidden community off to the fact that I was being punished wrongly. Incensed on my behalf and determined to pay their debts of gratitude, they secretly formed a plan to break me free.
When they arrived on the scene, it left me with a gut-wrenching choice: Either escape with the under-class, free from my current distress but forever a fugitive from the law–or serve my undeserved sentence of 7 years of hard labor, and in the process spurn the help of those I had helped, shaming them and destroying many friendships forever. It was a horrible, horrible decision to have to make.
*cough, cough* Ahem!
Well, hrm. Something like that, anyway.
Or not.
Mostly not.
Okay, so I made it all up. But now my ‘about me’ page is updated. Yay!!!
You are no longer going to school, and no longer working as a Rehabilitation Aide at a local hospital—which is to say, please update.