Freckled Freedom

Yes, that friend was Mark Twain... and I couldn't have said it better myself.  I'm not quite sure when exactly I misplaced my mind. I tend to go with the notion that I've scattered bits and pieces little by little, a bit of shedding if you will. I'd say it all started out with one crazy family and one hell of a mother.  And so, as it goes, I was born a Smith, a big-headed family with no tolerance for shit.  Honesty was my mother's policy, and quite frankly, her key to success. She believed in exposing me to the real elements of the world by bringing me to musicals that focused on sex, homosexuals, AIDS, poverty and deception. Through that, the only thing that truly fazed my 8-year-old was the butt Idina Menzel stuck out to the audience. I learned through my mother that there was no shame is taking a piss on top of a building if you really had to go. Our relationship has been built on a foundation of trust, truth, and big hair. She let me know from the get go:  ...

According to Urban Dictionary , Ginge rs are defined as:  A human, characterized by pale skin, freckles and bright red hair. "Gingers" are generally considered to be inferior to their more melanin-rich brethren, and thus deservingly discriminated against. Gingers are thought to have no souls. The condition, "gingervitis" is genetic and incurable.  Up until Freshman year of college, I had thought the term ginger referred to the pungent root used in cooking and traditional medicine; The fiery lump that the dining hall squished in with their " SUSHI " (or whatever it truly was); The flavoring Schweppes used in my ales to help soothe my stomach back in the days of plastic bags lining my locker because of daily morning sickness; The main squeeze on Nickelodeon's As Told By Ginger; The Spice Girl that got away.   Then in my first year at Binghamton University, I was deemed a "ginger." Naturally, I thought the world found me spicy... zesty... ful...