One problem with this blog is that during a fit of generosity or torture, I told tens of people about it. Through email, I know that at least some of them read it and never acknowledge themselves. This includes my mother.

I am one of five girls, the second youngest. The youngest of the group and the oldest of the youngest. Hence my personality.

My paternal line of heritage suffers from silence and judgment. Silent alcoholism, silent insanity, a silent and pervading sense of self-righteousness. They also provide consistency and, in the case of my paternal grandmother, a real dose of love.

My maternal line of heritage suffers from I don't even know what. People are different and varied, some smart, some dumb, some mean, some kind, good parents, bad parents, good siblings, bad siblings. With some exceptions, this line is very stingy. No financial support (for anyone, almost ever) and very little emotional support. They also provided to me, especially in the case of my maternal grandmother (my maternal grandfather died very young and I have never had the opportunity to meet him), my mind. I think that's why she likes me so much, and saves her meanness for the others.

My heart line is comprised of the people I grew up with. I was very lucky to meet them, and it is not accidental that they, for the most part, remain very close to me. My heart line provided me kindness, generosity, and a real logic in their approach to the world. The heart line has some problems of its own, but they pale in comparison.