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So, my name is Jean, and my e-mail address is jeanniewood@

I'm a night shift worker who is quite obsessed with getting my house paid off- which is currently schedualed (sp?) as three years from now (at which point I'll be renting it out, and recieving just under 2,000 a month in passive income), so that I can properly travel the world like my father once did, and like my mother never had the chance to.

I'm 23 years old, as of July 6th of 2009, I can watch television like you would not believe, and am currently horribly addicted to caffine which gives me a crossover between a wonderful sense of humor and, at other times, a really bad temper issue. I talk way too much for my own good, don't see my friends often enough, and sometimes wonder if I'll ever find true love. Sometimes I wonder if that's even important to me. I hate long walks on the beach because hey- sand gets in my shoes, ducks are actually quite disgusting up close, and that foam at the edge of the water makes you wonder whats in the water and if its safe to swim in... I climbed only pine trees as a child, and secretly wished to be a pilot. One day I'm going to hang glide. So sue me, if I don't, it's only because I chose instead to paraglide. My biggest thrill as a child was jumping off the giant stone near my house. In adulthood, I know see the stone as quite small. I still love that stone anyhow.

I love learning other languages, only to get bored and only remember the swear words. I manage to run a shift of young adults and oversea's workers, yet shudder whenever somebody calls me Miss. Jean. I love stupid music that has nothing to do with maturity, and adore shows that make fun of my country- of which I'm a proud member of. My name is Jean, and I am Canadian.

I've never voted, but tell myself every year that I'm going to. I have no urge to protest in a public forum, but pay twice the regular amount for gas so that I'm helping the world by using air power. That being said, I never remember to recycle my pop bottles- which I hope my father never finds out about. He would hunt me down. "It might only be five cents," he would say, "But it's five cents you wouldn't have had!" Welcome to the general premiss of every conversation I've ever had with my father. Pity me? I hope so.

I found religion, and lost it. My sister tells me whenever she loses something, she either finds it in the fridge, or behind the couch. I hope religion isn't in either of those places, because both are quite scary. My faith found a place to hover somewhere between the Mormon religion, science, and Paganism. My friends say I'm too wise for my age, but my parents will forever berate me on not cleaning my kitchen often enough, meanwhile my two cats have clawing issues that I really should find a way to deal with sooner rather than later. I worry that I'm lazy, and I worry that I worry too much.

I've never paid for pot, but I'll smoke it if somebody offer. I drink about every two months, but oherwise alcohol and I have a strictly passing relationship.

I wish I was a good enough author to publish. Maybe one day I will be.

...And now you know me. Please, if you like one of my stories, leave a review?