Living and growing up in South Jersey you don’t really understand how the rest of the world portrays you until you leave it’s spray-tanned boundaries.  It’s funny how you constantly hear the cliché remarks about the d-bags from Jersey Shore or the high maintenance “Guidettes” on The Real Housewives and immediately deny any sort of stereotypical connection with them.  I mean, how dare someone assume that just because I’m from Jersey that I talk obnoxiously loud, eat only homemade “gravy” on my “macaronies” at Sunday dinner and have no clue how to pump my own gas???  Okay, so maybe those are pretty safe assumptions, however, Jersey girls are way much more than meets the eye.

So, now onto my favorite subject….ME!!!!!   Established in 1982, I was born into a low-middle class family.  First born of three children.  My parents were young, dumb and in love by the time they had me.  I don’t think there is a more odd couple than my parents.  They say opposites attract, well my parent are living proof!

My mother came from an Italian upbringing in a higher class neighborhood.  However, despite their picture perfect family appearance, my mom grew up fast having to balance high school and raising her three younger siblings while her parents battled with bouts of alcoholism and infidelity.  Don’t get me wrong, I love my grandparents and this tid bit of history is for introductory purposes only.

My father grew up a farm boy, I think.  My dad doesn’t really talk much about his childhood.  Actually, my dad doesn’t talk about much of anything personal.  He’s pretty hard to read.  It’s like he’s always trying to put up a hard exterior for some reason.  Any who, he is the youngest of three with almost 20 years between him and his middle sibling.  So, needless to say, he came to this world as quite a surprise;)  His parents were Polish immigrants from the Ukraine, I think.  From what little I’ve been told, they owned and rented homes in the Fishtown section of Philadelphia with speakeasies in the basement and fronted the operation with a small chicken farm across the bridge in South Jersey, which is where my dad was raised.  My dad was left that farm when my grandparents passed away and they raised my brother, sister and I there.

So, I tell you these background stories for a reason.  In order to completely understand me and my method of thinking, we have to start at the beginning.  Growing up with such polar opposites has taught me to be caring and naturing, at the same time hardworking with a douse of street smarts;)  Neither of my parents went to college.  My dad was actually asked to leave high school on his own after being left behind grades so many times.  Turns out it is frowned upon to be 19 years old in the 9th grade with your own parking spot.  Who knew?  Nonetheless, my dad always had a job and a skill. To this day, I don’t think there is anything on wheels with gears and pistons that he can’t fix.  My mom was a stay at home mom.  She focused mainly on attending to my brother, who was born with Downes Syndrome, and his early education needs.  My parents didn’t have much and I remember they went through some pretty difficult financial times, but we always had food on the table and gifts under the tree at Christmas.  Sometimes we didn’t have the newest gadgets or the latest trends in clothes, but we had what we needed.  Then there’s my sister…my flighty, cheerful, beautifully blonde sister.  Sometimes I envy her niave way of thinking.  It’s like she just floats through life, without a care in the world and everything just seems to fall so eloquently into place for her.

I, on the other hand, am a worrier.  Making sure the bills are paid on time, the house is clean and the refrigerator is stocked, that sort of stuff. I currently work for a translation company in the accounting department.  How I got here, I have no clue.  It works for me though, numbers make sense to me.  Most people at work sort of fear me, and that’s okay.  I avoid workplace friendships, relationships and drama at all costs.  So what if they think I have a touch of the bitch in me, at least I don’t have to sit through a Monday morning recap of their “blah, blah, blah” weekends.  I like to learn.  I like to do.  And I most certainly like to be in control.  Although I can be hard headed, I truly do like to pick other people’s brains and find out why or how they do things.  What’s their decision process like?  What background do they have that may have influenced their way of thinking?  Stuff like that.

Whelp, looks like I’ve made a novel of this and if you’ve made it this far, Congratulations!  You’ve just wasted a good 10-15 minutes of your time learning about myself and what makes me tick.  We probably will never meet and you’re not getting a gold star for reading this, but thank you nonetheless for showing an interest in an otherwise uninteresting humanoid.


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