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The Invisible Woman shows her face

(and assumes that no one is looking)

Name:
Nina E. Again
Birthdate:
26 July 1969
External Services:
  • ninabadina@livejournal.com
This is neanahe's journal that is not surreal, for memes and opinions and stuff like that which does not fit into my main journal. This probably won't be as active as Surreality Bites, but when I want to post something non-surreal, I want a place to do it.

General Info:

Sex: Female

Status: Married

Children: 1 son, born 10/08/2004.

Politics: Moderate Independent Civil Libertarian; also, jaded and filled with political ennui at the current state of my nation.

Spirituality: Deeply Spiritual. By Deeply Spiritual, I mean, "religious, but not down-your-throat religious. Believe what you want to believe, and it’s good with me, so long as you are a decent and good person. I don’t proselytize and expect you not to either. If you do, I may get snarky and mean, but I trust that God will forgive me for this because I asked God and She/He doesn’t like people who do that stuff, either." Okay, I'll come clean: I'm a United Methodist. I pray in the closet. I judge not lest I be judged. Feel free to return the favors.

Other: I am a poet, but it's not my fault. I wanted to be something useful, but this is the affliction that I was born with. I have been called a "Talented Poet" by a few people. What's the use of being the best at something that almost no one likes or appreciates? Given my druthers, I would rather have been a talented investment banker; the benefits are better and you get more respect.

What sets me apart is that I believe that when you are on a microphone reading, you have an obligation to entertain your listeners and not just please yourself. A propensity for pleasing only yourself makes for bad poets and bad lovers alike. I am good both on the microphone and in bed. Everyone has to have at least one talent; I happen to have two of them.

I don't know why I'm telling you this, because I don't post poetry here. Poetry is by definition kind of surreal, and occasionally winds up in That Other Journal.
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