I’m an Open Book

My name doesn’t describe who I am very well. Jennifer isn’t an adjective.

If names were meant to describe who we are, mine would be:

Or perhaps something powerful like this:

It would be wrong to call myself clever. Clever implies an ability to problem solve. My attempts at problem solving never result in solutions. For example: I get a D on a social studies test + I forge my father’s name in brown crayon = Not a Solution (You can get the details here).

If you are a parent, surely you have been cursed with “I hope your children turn out just like you.” I’ll admit, I look at this as a good thing. If my son is like me, he will never tell lies.

When my parents would confront me about things I shouldn’t have done (things that might have warranted punishment by soap in the mouth or Barbie doll confinement), I never made an attempt to convince them otherwise. Did you just flip your mother off? Yes. Yes, I did. Did you study for your biology test? No, I didn’t want to. What did your father say about going to the movies? He said no.

I’ll give you all a moment to shout at me through my blog for lacking the ability to tell a lie and manipulate a situation to my advantage. Just so you know, I shot my target in the crotch at the firing range this week.

To get caught doing something one shouldn’t be doing, implies that one was trying to get away with doing said thing. My typical reaction to confrontation is humiliating. You might use adjectives like hysterical and distraught. Is emotional wreck an adjective too?

I am, and have always been, an open book. There is no guessing if I am angry, sad, or happy. Just read the damn book. I think they call people like me dramatic.

And if you tell me my adjectives are actually verbs, I’ll shoot you in the crotch.


6 thoughts on “I’m an Open Book

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