Anabell's back ground story


I was born october 31, 1975 Halloween. I've all ways thought that was rather cool. How many people can go trick or treating on day and then have a birthday party the next. Not to mention that I can always have a costume party for my birthday, in fact, I would say its generally accepted. Halloween really rocks, having a birthday on halloween rocks more. My Nanny was always really great about planing my party, and she always found the bests stories to tell. Real scary stuff, it was my nanny who introduced me to Poe's stories. From his stories to his poetry to other poets. My favorite is Sir Walter Scott. His absolute best poem is The Dance of the Dead. Its like this really song within a killer poem the songs refrain is "Wheel your wild dance while lightning's flash and thunder rattles loud to call the brave to shallow grave to sleep with out a showd" Man, heavy mettle lyrics have nothing on this stuff.

I don't really think I have the talent to write really good poems or songs. Nothing that good. But I do paint a bit and some people like it. I went to art school. Not a hard choice for me. Its not like I have to worry about being a starving artist. My parents wouldn't let me. Besides I have a trust that opened this year, and funds left from my collage account that opened when I was 18. But that really doesn't mean I cant play the part if I want to.

Oh ya, I can just see it, Get a run down flat in a poor part of Pittsburgh with decent lighting. Toss together an ensemble of used furnishings and start painting. Well, Not gallery shit. I paint wooden furniture artistically. A lot of them I even build myself. The best art has function. After all, the best of the victorian era is its furnishings. A victorian chain is like the ultimata expression of the periods artistic endeavors. Ask anyone who knows anything, furniture is art. It expresses who we are in a way only our cloths top. I think I'll toss in some good shop tools. I can see the look on my mothers face now, if my parents bother to visit. "darling," she would drawl out "A lady really must socialize with her own kind. Do you really think that this is a proper reflection of your upbringing. Our kind are better then this." That is, if they can be tear themselves away from there travels.

Mother expects me to hob nob with the snooty brats of her upper class crowd. Gag. You know, if she had wanted me to be more like her maybe she should have taken more time out for my upbringing, instead of leaving it to the staff and them noxious schools that she sent me too till I was 12. You get kicked out of enough of those places (I managed 4 in one year once) and non of them will take you. At lest, once I had been banned from all those boarding schools I got sent to a real school, with real people. They didn't even know my folks had cash. I was so gothic in junior high and high school my mom would have had a stroke if she had seen the way I dressed for school. I even bought my cloths from the good will.

I'll be damned if I hang with my (mothers) kind. I like regular people better, they are at lest real.