When I was a kid, I made clothes for my Barbies and searched for quarters in the sandbox during recess. I always wanted Jordache jeans and nearly died when my mom made me wear the yellow pants she bought in hell. Now, as a single mom, I can't believe that my talented 10- year- old rocker daughter wants to wear all black and am convinced that she's a Star Wars geek in the making. I move to the beat of my own drum. A couple years ago, I said good-bye to my regular day job and decided that only I can boss myself. I formed my own event planning company and am head over heels trying to make sense of this thing called life. I've seen Incubus in concert 4 times. I wish I could find the time to regularly attend a hip-hop dance class. My friends say and I admit that I talk a lot. I have friends from all walks of life and I'll drive many miles on the congested 10 freeway to sit with a friend when all she can do is cry. I make sure that MAC and Forever 21 stay in business. I wish I could define all the facets of my character, but then they start melding together and I get confused. I have a good eye for beauty and enjoy making people and the things around them look beautiful. I admire people who take chances and live on the edge for the sake of their dreams. I want my daughter to feel comfortable. I want to feel comfortable. And often, I wonder what it would be like if I didn't have to live in this head I call myself. What can I say? I'm perfectly imperfect.
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