If you asked me to self-identify in 50 words or less, I’d be hard-pressed to concoct an answer that made anything resembling logical sense! As an RVer, I’ve devoted my life to exploring the world around me — at the same time, there’s nothing like returning to a home port and reconnecting with my tribe. My top priorities are experiencing new things, places, and people — but I’m also a sucker for reliving the past, terminally tangled in nostalgia. To call me a walking contradiction in terms is a GROSS understatement!
I’m in a constant state of simplifying my existence on this planet, yet there’s not a single frigging thing I do in moderation. (In fact, I’m at my thrive-y-est when going 90 miles an hour — just steps ahead of those few-too-many-irons-in-the-fire that threaten to singe my delicate little tush.) Some days I’ll work from dawn to dusk, others I’m lucky if I put on pants. I’m pierced and tattooed, with a pet tarantula and a passion for skull decor — but I instantly “Squee!” at snapshots of baby platypi in fedoras and mice holding tiny teddy bears. My idealist self sees the world in terms of beauty and possibility — while my dark side is fascinated by the Holocaust, serial killers, and the bottom-most chasms to which humans are capable of sinking. I’m an optimistic cynic, a serious-minded smart-aleck, a cutesy goth-girl, a joyously exuberant thinker. I openly admit that I’m inconsistency incarnate, but that’s what makes me so damned entertaining. (Or so I’m told!)
If you’re looking for a shrinking violet, I’m most assuredly not your gal — “spitﬁre” is the word most often used to describe this particular brand of redhead. Strong-minded, adventurous, unceasingly intellectually curious, and largely incapable of boredom — your stereotypical extrovert. I pet any animal that crosses my path (whether they like it or not) — the same way I turn every sapien I meet into a friend (whether THEY like it or not). And while I’ll happily play “crazy Aunt Ramona” for your crotch-droplings, I don’t want or need any of my own. (I like kids best when I can give them back at the end of the day!)
I consume books/movies (especially non-ﬁction and documentaries) like food — but I also believe that it ain’t a good day unless you end up dirty and bleeding. My musical tastes are all over the board — a typical playlist might include Beethoven’s 7th, then a little Nine Inch Nails, followed by some foolishness from Flight Of The Conchords or Garfunkel And Oates. You couldn’t pay me to watch a televised sports competition (or at the very least, you’d have to pay me a LOT). However, I do love the occasional live home-run or slap-shot — especially if I’m guaranteed a good hockey ﬁght. (I’m largely a pacifist, but blood bounces on ice!)
As far as I’m concerned, “new day” equals “costume party” — glitter, wigs, crazy hats, themed outfits, and military surplus wear are the norm for me. But I’m also on an endless quest for opportunities to engage in extreme dress-up. (Holiday party or Ren Faire, DragonCon or Burning Man — just so long as I’m given a legitimate excuse for donning vampire fangs, poking black-out contacts into my eyes, and running around half-naked in public!) I have 9 piercings above the neck, as well as some pretty sweet (and ever-expanding) ink — but I can rock a boardroom blazer (paired with biker boots and a mini skirt) like nobody’s business. I’ve been self-employed for nearly 20 years, a full-timer for almost a decade, and not especially good at living a “conventional” life since birth. I’m a modern Renaissance woman, proud to be a jackass-of-all-trades — organizer and coach, trainer and speaker, writer and artisan. (I joke that I’ve got career A.D.D. and would rather die than have to settle for just one job title. That’s why I’m a fixer/ass-kicker and a not-so-tortured artist, a talking head and a wordsmith, a philosopher and a wanderluster — all at the same time!)
I’ve been told (more than once) that Mt. Vesuvius would have a hard time keeping up with me. But when folks call me “energetic,” they’re just being kind — I’m closer to hypomanic, and would certainly have ended up medicated as a child (had doctors been handing out Ritalin like Lifesavers in the 70s, the way they do today). I talk fast and am genetically lacking a functional volume control. (“Inside voice?” What is this of which you speak?) I’ve decided I must also have some Italian mixed in with my Scots-Irish background, much as I flail while conversing. (Wanna shut me up? Handcuffs.) I’m blessed with a multifarious excess of ideas that keeps me going nonstop for days on end — that is, until I run face-first into a brick wall. (Think ferret — GO-GO-GO-GO-GO-zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.)
It’s corny, but I’m also the quintessential student of life. My goal is to learn something absolutely amazing from every soul I encounter, so I work hard to surround myself with the most fascinating freaks possible. (That’s why I full-time — when I discover I’m the smartest person in the room, I go looking for a new room!) As an amateur sociologist, I’m always analyzing the world around me — picking up new ideas, sticking them in my pocket, taking them home to examine later like a kid collecting rocks. Combine a plethora of strong opinions with an unquenchable thirst for knowledge, and the end result is a never-ending game of “devil’s advocate” — one where NO subject (including politics, religion, parenting, money, or sex) is taboo. I affectionately drive my peeps nuts, grilling them about anything and everything that crosses my mind. (Though I’ve swapped childishly innocuous queries like “Why is the sky blue?” for loftier and more annoying imponderables — along the lines of “What if there were no such thing as a hypothetical question?”)
At my core, I have a Scarlett-O’Hara-sized “passion for living” (imagine that said with the most outrageous Clark Gable impression possible). I’m happiest when I’m growing and evolving and busting through barriers — despite the fact that I usually create a huge mess, break my neck, and kill a dozen innocent bystanders in the process. I’ll try anything (except rocky mountain oysters or haggis), I find great joy in doing that which I’ve never done before (even if I fail miserably) — and the best last words I can possibly imagine are, “Hey guys! Watch this!” I’m the most lovable pain-in-the-ass you’ll ever meet, but I must be doing something right — I’ve been a-suckin’ the marrow out of life for more than 40 years, and have yet to choke on the bone.
Okay, I think that’s it — undoubtedly TMI, but certainly a fair summation. If I haven’t scared you away by now, feel free to delve deeper. Just make sure to proceed at your own risk — you have been warned!
PS: Wanna instantly rack up some serious virtual cred? I've made it easy for you to share this content with your social networking friends, e-mail it to your peeps, or republish it in your own blog (thereby showing off how smart you are) with these links.
(iCopyright widget here)
Ramona Creel is an award-winning 15-year veteran organizer and member of the National Association Of Professional Organizers. As well as having birthed “The A-To-Z Of Getting Organized,” Ramona is also the author of “The Professional Organizer’s Bible: A Slightly Irreverent And Completely Unorthodox Guide For Turning Clutter Into A Career”—and the creator of more than 200 “quick-start” business tools and templates for use by productivity professionals. She writes seven different blogs, has worked with hundreds of clients, and has delivered scores of presentations on getting organized. Ramona resides on the roads of America as a full-time RVer—living and working in a 29-foot Airstream. Learn more at and RamonaCreel.com.
If you would like to reprint this page, please contact me