She who knows others is wise.
She who knows herself is enlightened.
Lao Tzu, Tao Te Jing
Romy
My name is Romy (pronounced “row-mee”). It means “little gypsy girl,” and it’s very appropriate, because I dress like a gypsy (lots of cheap jewelry and colorful layers). I also tell fortunes and steal horses. Sometimes I get confused and tell horses’ fortunes.
I’m twenty-four years old, but I don’t seem to look it—depending on who you ask, I’m either in my thirties or in my teens. I currently live in the Twin Cities, Minnesota, in a little treetop-level apartment surrounded by squirrels and sunlight. My husband Tony is my best friend and the love of my life; we were married in August 2002. We have one pet, Piper Maru the Penguin Cat. (We usually have more animals, but there seems to be a rodent/rabbit/feline shortage around here lately.)
It would be a clichè for me to say what a Complex Person I am, but I daresay I have the quirks to back it up—after all, I’m the only vegetarian, atheist, animal-rights-promoting, bisexual, liberal, intellectual, Scotch-Irish-Russian-Jewish-Norwegian-American ninja/hippie with a passion for poetry, a morbid fascination with disasters (particularly maritime), and a weakness for rodents and dirigibles that I’ve ever met. I’m pretty sure I’m one of a kind, and I’m also pretty sure that it’s a good thing.
Other than web design and sarcasm, my hobbies include reading, writing, knitting, sketching, cat-flattening, genealogy, studying, divination, nitpicking, and being tall (I’m really not; it’s just a hobby). I probably know less than you do about things like calculus or tire rotation, but I’m pretty sure I know more about gerbils and Tudor England. (This means I’m very interesting at dinner parties, but not particularly useful on road trips.) I am very particular in my likes and dislikes, and am notorious for my odd opinions. Even my phobias are weird.
In the future, I will have two children: a girl named Josephine Rose, and a boy name William Anthony. I will write three novels and publish one; of the other two, one will be kept for my children after I’m dead, and the other will be burnt, because it is too beautiful to be read by anyone but me. When I am old, I will retire to the Channel Islands and open a pub called the Duck and Cover. Eventually, I will be tragically killed when my bad eyesight leads me to mistake a pit bull for a boot-scraper. My corpse will be made into a marionette and will perform in a traveling circus, thus allowing me to frighten small children for many years to come. (Who says you can’t have fun when you’re dead?)
Quick facts: When I was a little kid, I wanted to be Japanese. In various past lives, I was a bad smell in Sherwood Forest, Anne Boleyn’s sixth finger, and a midget on board the Titanic (as the water rose, I was the first to die). If I had just one chance to go back in time, I would go back to the eighteenth century and play ding-dong-ditch on Samuel Taylor Coleridge. I don’t have a favorite color, but I do have a favorite word, a few favorite poems, a favorite opera (which, incidentally, does not contain my favorite aria), and a favorite shipwreck. I can never remember to throw out my leftovers before they go bad, I never step on spiders (no matter how much they startle me), and I always know the punchline to a joke before I hear it (it’s a gift).
Without Feathers is a personal site run by Romy.
Brand Spankin’ New
- 9.02.08: What I Did (Not) on My Summer Vacation
- 7.09.08: My Current Hobbies
- 7.04.08: Question: Suicides and Soap Mummies
- 6.25.08: Panda Mating Fails, Veterinarian Takes Over
- 6.18.08: This Calls for an Aria
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