...I'm so lame for using my About Me for Myspace. Anyway, prepare to waste however long it takes for you to finish reading minutes or hours of your life reading my 3036 charactered (no spaces), 611 worded, 47 lined, 9 paragraphed (as it says in MS Word's Word Count) About Me:

In the making of an About Me, fundamental factors influence the critics’ reviews of yourself. Which is why I can say: Making an About Me is difficult. The quality can cause the reader to become stiffly dull with boredom or dazzle with astonishment. Sequence of words, grammatical mistakes must be checked, emphasizing good personal qualities about yourself rather than the bad, assembling an effort to make the exposed information about myself as factual as possible when I barely know myself, identifying as well as formulating the main points, attempting to stay in topic, organizing the position of each paragraph to ensure strength… all acts that must be done for an About Me. Those struggling with About Me’s as I am currently, probably desire for one that fastens the pace of one’s heartbeat to come crashing and pounding against their chest like a brilliant thunder. Maybe one with interesting ramblings worthy of a Nobel Prize Award or sounds like a Pulitzer Prize winning paragraph? As a matter of fact, I’m not a genius with words or able to express myself with strong sensitivity in the bounds of… I don’t know… two or three or five words.

Quirky. Eccentric. Spontaneous (or better word:impulsive, random). Three words of minusculcy, yet convincingly descriptive.

Perhaps these three words accurately match me due to the plenty times it’s been confirmed. Of course this is an About Me, but I simply cannot see as to how it is possible to define myself in the matters of a few paragraphs because, as corny as it sounds, there’s more than meets the eye.

Generally, I love art. I love to create. My brain is teeming with brain-children. It's about to burst and soon, thousands of ideas will come pouring out; swallowing everything in sight, grasping to move into my 'approved ideas' so they can be seen by the world. Catching them is the hard part.

Sob stories are intensely unappreciated. Continuous usual drama, occasional death, even stress from peers, or daily lecturing are examples of reasons for depressing emotional states. Whatever the reason is for your dismay, there is absolutely no need to flaunt it excessively or use it as an advantage.

Label me whichever you crave to. Talking about me is evidence that you focus unnecessary time and energy upon me whereas I don’t care. Labeling does not entirely define the individual because, as I’ve said before, there’s more than meets the eye, yet we contradict ourselves by labeling others: rocker, emo, goth, metalhead, skater, punk, poser, wannabe, normie, loser, fag, , and too many others to name.

Pretending to be different, pretending to be exotic and not have a normal life, pretending to be smart when I’m not as smart as believed, pretending to have a perfect life when it’s the absolute opposite, pretending to be heartless when I’m undeniably concerned, and pretending be philosophical and making dim-witted remarks, pretending to be a bitch when I care to be liked, pretending to be honest to later gloat about one’s lying skills, pretending to be different, perfect, when we are all equal in individuality…All actions you and I share. We’re walking contradictions that lie to uphold an imaginary persona, or better yet, pretenders.

Within every single being is an invisible complexity. Facts unsaid about myself are overflowing and cannot be all pressured into mere one or two paragraphs. I’m Stephanie, Stephy, Steph, Pedopez (please don't ask about the joke hidden behind the nickname). I’m any of the four that’re most comfortable for you to call me. Show you who you are and I’ll show you me because I have so much more to continue.

LOL, INTRODUCTION TO LIFE MUCH?