About Jen. Also, Like Everything, Mostly False.
Jen grew up a dirt farmer in apartment complex in the southwest corner of that culvert over there. You see, when she was a young lass, people often mistook her for a boy! So often that she, for time, also thought so. Well, it took a bit. And she grew out of that kind of silliness and now she writes stories and poems.
Turns out that girl, though, had to do a bunch of learning first. She went and did her schooling and her education--even Twain said they were sometimes different. Once, someone told David Foster Wallace that Jen wrote good; but he stood her up for pie for some reason. She used to be quite sore at that. But, she learned to move on and not really take the opinions of older men in positions of power quite so serious like. Good thing, too. She's heard some things.
The she went and did what any good girl from the bootstraps of America should do; she went and figured out how to start a family. You see, she wasn't equipped to deal with that kind of thing herself, and so she met this other lass and they ended up getting hitched. Turns out they like one another quite a bit, you see? Great how that works out! Been a couple decades now; may as well stay for the long haul.
Low and behold two kids, three cats, a dog, and what might be a small school of fish later, she's got what you could call a family. Right there in her own home! Quite convenient.
Along the way she met some folk. She got a job. She didn't quite like the name her ma and pa gave her, so she changed it to this silly old one.
Also she takes time time-to-time to stand in front of the locals and do earnest exhortations about existence. Some folks call that "stand-up comedy." But she calls it good ole common sense. You feel that?
Like many heroes and villains, sometimes she goes by another name. Mostly to keep herself hidden from interlopers and unsavory types. Like...Amway. Anyway, she figured she should let you know she has a thing here that talks more about what she does in those times where she has to keep her head down, you see.
I reckon that's all. There ain't much more to tell. An education. A penchant for post-modernism. A deep and chronic depression. I mean, they are all just spices.