About DirtyFlowerGirl

Every time I try to write an “about me” something or other, I just feel boring and stupid. I’ll try and give it a go. Perhaps I’ll do a “sweep the kitchen” kind of thing and say whatever comes to mind.

  • My real name is Jenn, but I write under the name Gwen Jackson. I tried to hide all this for a while, but the Internet likes to link accounts to other accounts, so I'm found out. I guess I finally said, "fuck it. Let them see me."
  • This is my formal apology to my mother for all the cursing. It happens, Mom. I'm sorry.
  • I enjoy man humor. That doesn’t mean I want guys to say whatever the hell comes to mind whenever I’m around – some filter, please, fellas. But I’m not the type of girl to gasp and shout “Well, I NEVER!” at the slightest show of distasteful comedy. I rather like it. But farts are not cool, guys.
  • Sometimes I try to be lady-like. Other times I can throw a cussing fit better than Yosemite Sam.
  • I’m not powder puff-ery at all. I hate the color pink, but I do like glitter. I’m like a borderline tomboy, with a touch of girlishness: a tomboy with chandelier earrings and nail polish.
  • I have trouble accepting compliments – I’m working on that. I tend to use sarcasm and self-deprecating humor whenever I’m nervous, angry, or just awake. I also have a mean streak, which I attribute to the barely –there red tint to my natural hair color. You know what they say about red-heads.
  • I have a beautiful child. Being a mother is not the only thing that defines me (I refuse to wear “mom jeans” or drive a mini-van. Ever), but there is nothing like the love of a child. Hearing that sweet little voice say, “I love you, Mommy,” followed by a big grin is pretty awesome.
  • I hate the word “awesome," but the word "amazing" is even worse.
  • I can’t stand it when someone tears out a piece of notebook paper and doesn’t clean out the teeny little paper piece remnants out of the spine.
  • My high school physics teacher said I have an orderly mind. I don’t know what to say to that. Orderly mind, perhaps, but everything outside of my head is a huge mess.
  • I love music. All kinds. I sing & dance around the house. I sing & dance in the car. I sing & dance at work. I really don’t care how lame that is.
  • I’m allergic to cats, so I’ll never be a “crazy cat lady.” Phew. Mark that fear off the list.
  • I make lists. And I can be a bit neurotic. 
  • I have asthma.
  • I recently became certified to teach yoga.
  • I'm sick. No one's going to have a telethon for me, but some days are really hard. Other days I attempt that "fake it 'till you make it" theory of survival. Don't worry; I'm ok.
  • I was thinking about starting smoking since they’ve invented those electronic vaporizer cigarette thingies. Wrong, I know.
  • I’ll never throw away my Joey Lawrence cd from the 90s. He claims there's nothing his love can't fix.
  • I’ve had what seems like 800 jobs, but I really want to become a writer. I practically write in my sleep; that 3 AM idea that pops up is super annoying. 
  • I currently work part-time at a frame shop. I make frames n' shit. I create art for displaying art.
  • As far as my current job goes, I call in a lot, which is irresponsible. But I have a legit reason. I’m not just Office-Spacing it: “Aren't you supposed to be at work?" "Yeah, I’m just not gonna go.” 
  • Or maybe that's exactly what I'm doing.
  • I am married to a talented artist.
  • I love books – I often try to read 5 or more at a time – but I really don’t have time to read. I wish I could do that Edgar Cayce thing where he slept on a book and “absorbed” it overnight.
  • I don’t sleep well.
  • I like creepy stories, but I don't write them.
  • I used to believe in true love, but now I just believe love follows working on a serious committment. There are no fairy tales.
  • I like dogs.
  • I like chocolate.
  • I like bacon.
  • What else do you need to know?
  • Here's my Instagram
  • I really hate talking about myself. Let's talk about you...