About me:

Who is Karyn?

A person. I was born and raised in the town of Westminster, MD. I have an older sister, and an older brother. My father died when I was about 6 years old. I was mostly raised by my mother. Though quite a few of my father's traits somehow made it through to me. My life hasn't exactly been a picnic, though I can't really complain. It really hasn't been much worse than anybody else's life.

Growing up was an awkward experience for me. I was very shy, which made me a magnet for bullies and such. Having an eye patch and glasses that looked like the bottoms of two glass bottles didn't help much either. I didn't really have any good friends until 8th grade. My landlady's son's family was moving into one of the apartments where I lived. They had two daughters. One was just a year younger than I, and the other --as I would soon find out --was a vicious little 4th grader. Love ya munchkin. ;) I was terrified to meet this girl, because I assumed she would be like the rest of the kids who picked on me. She wasn't at all. The girl rocked hard core over anyone else I had met. Her family is awesome too. I love them like my own family. The little one grew on me too.

So this brings us to the wonderful experience of high school. First, I'll address my freshmen year. No, scratch that. I'll address my entire academic existence up to this point. It was bad. I always slithered by --grade by grade --barely making it through to the next grade level. The reason being that "I was morally opposed to homework." AKA: Lazy. This didn't fly so well when I got into high school. Failed.

Now, let me take this moment to speak of the word torture. Dictionary.com, among the many other variations, lists this one: "the act of inflicting excruciating pain, as punishment or revenge, as a means of getting a confession or information, or for sheer cruelty."

"Cruelty" ladies and gentlemen. That is the only reason to force anyone to spend two years as a freshmen. Freshmen - the most torturing, unrelenting, and tormenting moments of your life - and I had two whole years of 'em.

On the bright side, failing put me in the same grade as my only true friend of the time. Making the whole ordeal a little less painful. From there on out, it was Scraping By - Version 2.0. I worked out some of the bugs to maximize the efficiency of being lazy in school whilst still managing to graduate.

In my second freshmen year, as well as my sophomore year, I dated a guy off and on. Nothing serious. The kind of relationship the average girl goes through in middle school. Date a guy for a week, change your mind, change your mind again, change your mind again, etc... That was my first boyfriend, so of course I was fickle-minded and unsure. I was so nervous and frightened by the whole thing that I just kept running away from it.

Junior year was the year of ultimate failure. I actually failed. Courtesy of a technicality --I had enough credits to be given senior status --I was pushed through to my senior year anyway. Junior year was also the year I put conscious effort into seeing just how low I could get my grade in Latin class. I had accepted defeat and turned it into a challenge. Opportunities in everything my friends; Opportunities in everything. Also, to break from this clinical look at my past; this was also the year of 9/11. Yes. I remember where I was. I remember feeling rather undaunted by the whole ordeal. I will always remember what one teacher told us in class the next day; "Don't let the bastards get you down."

Senior year was the year of non-attendance. The year where I found, and exploited every possible way out of attending school. I ranked up 30+ absences by year's end. I was also late an innumerable amount of times. It was the year I finally acquired my license. The year I came into ownership of my car. My car --the most precious thing I own --is a 1992 Ford Tempo GLS. Regardless of it's rarity --few were produced, and I have one that didn't turn out to be a lemon --it's precious to me because my mother bought the car brand new. That's 1992 to 2002. 10 years. I grew up with that car. I grew up in that car. I'm still growing up, and that car is still there. It has offered be some intangible form of comfort on numerous occasions. It holds so many memories, that I can't bear to part with it. It's silly; I know that, but just one of those things you can't quite explain.

After graduation, or as I like to call it "a few hours in hell;" I went on to a marvelous summer. I went to Ocean City, I went to Otakon, I went to New jersey. All places I had never been up to that point. That September, I started a job at the local movie theater. Regal Cinemas Westminster 9. I learned a lot of things during my employ there. I met many new friends. It became a home away from home. It was also the place where I sought safety from the monsters of life. Where I ran away when I was mad at my sister, or my mother. When life just sucked, my regal family was there, ready and willing to put a smile on my face. Sadly, at the culminating of a few unpleasant weeks, the general manager --being the sweetheart that he is --decided it was the day to get on my case about...everything. Apparently, along with the fact that I had missed work that day, he felt the need to reprimand me about not giving two weeks notice before I left. As a point of fact; I had yet to speak to him about my anything regarding seeking new employment; meaning some little gossip-monger blurted it out to him like it was the world's greatest treasure. So I took all my frustration out on the poor guy. He could really be a prick, but I have to say, he didn't really deserve what I did. Neither did anyone else. My actions weren't well thought out. I walked out and never came back, after throwing my uniform at him and telling him to "kiss my ass." This act earned me the admiration of future employees of the theater, as any time I walk in there, I have been introduced to as "the girl who told the General Manager off." (Or some other variation there of.) My favorite response to this has to be the kid that said "Oh! The infamous 'kiss my ass' girl!" I have received high fives, thumbs ups, and hand shakes for this action. An action, as I pointed out, that wasn't very intelligent. Though I must admit; I do enjoy my small bit of fame. I just hope that isn't the lasting impression I leave on the world.

[Somewhere in here is an epic tale of true love gone terribly wrong. Friend meets boy. Boy meets me. Boy has friend. Thank you match maker hell. I love you too. It was fun, while it lasted. The hell starts when it's all over. So keep reading]

After quitting the theater; I went to college for a year. I was student aide for Con Ed Tech Support for that year. It was a fun job, though it lacked the physical labor that I seek. It was also the one year of my life that I would give anything to forget.

Okay, so about the boy the mentioned earlier. I dated him for about 3 months. My first relatinship, as far as I'm concerned. It was fun while it lasted, and the he broke up with me. Unfortunately, he lied about why he broke up with me, (he said it was because he was moving 3 hours away.) so I spent a year thinking I could figure some way for it to work out. That really didn't work out, and I moved on. Though more and more I hear stories that make me so glad we're not together anymore.

Since the end of the college year. For those of you who are --and I wouldn't blame you --lost. Well. I royally screwed up college. As it turns out Version 2.0 of Scraping By needed to be updated. (That damn thing is like Windows, I swear.) I lost my federal funding to attend college, and since my job as a student aide was part of said funding; I lost that too. I couldn't afford college with out the government's generous assistance, so I had to go back into the wonderful world of full-time employment. I went to Boscov's. Ladies and Gentlemen, if you ever find yourself in an interview for Boscov's --kill yourself. 2 months. Clocked out one day. Never came back. After that, was Kohl's. I've never worked at Wal-mart, but I would liken employment at Kohl's to Boscov's with a little bit of Wal-Mart mixed in. To remedy this I recommend beating one's head into a wall until you've reached a state of mild retardation. This should numb you to the experience and allow you to perform the tasks handed to you effectively. 3 months. Same thing. I encountered a manager later and she bothered to ask why I hadn't been at work. "I left." Not good enough. Damn it. "Don't you think you should have told someone?" Sometimes, I'm just too considerate of others. I bit my tongue and said, "Well, it was my last no call, no show; so I just assumed I was fired." What I wanted --and I mean really wanted --to say was; "Not really. I don't feel like I owe this company, or the people working for it, a goddamn thing. So bite my ass, bitch."

Around May 2006, I found myself employed at Things Remembered. I'd like to kick the shit out of everyone above my manager. Other than that, the job is cool. It's retail, essentially, so you get your bad customers, but the movie theater prepared me for that.

I found myself employed at TR for nearly two years. I also managed to land myself into the position of CSM(Store Manager, basically.) How...I'm not entirely sure, but there I was. Almost entirely lost and feeling completely out of place. Not more than three to four months before, I was in danger of being fired. The I become the CSM and the potential for termination seemed to increase ten-fold, as I'm responsible for everyone and everything. In your average company, I would have received a much greater monetary compensation for that responsibility, but, I suppose for a little kiosk in a mall, it's appropriate.

I got sick of dealing with the bullshit. Couple that with a threat of termination, and I quit. (Well, actually it's a bit more complicated than that, but...I'd like to save face here.) I just got a new job. I'm working at Wal-Mart now. Overnight stocking from 10PM - 7AM. It's only a temporary position, so I need to find something else as soon as possible. I don't want to do it, but I know I need the money. I just really wish people would give me some room to breathe. Or maybe offer me the tiniest sign of hope. For at least someone to tell me I actually do the things I want to do in life.

I work at Wawa's now. Great job, great people, not bad pay either. ;) Meh, what can I say? Gotta do what you gotta do. Or, at least what you think you gotta do. :(

The reason for this biography? Because I wanted you to know who I am and to get an idea as to what has played a factor in my current personality. Perhaps you'll understand what even I can't, and that is: What inspires me?

Enjoy! Sincerly, Karyn.