CLOSR: CLOSR2FINE, CLOSR3FINE
The Life (And Stuff) Of Closr2Fine 
  
OK, y'all, you asked for it. Well, someone did. I think. 
  
First things first. The screenname comes from the Indigo Girls song 
"Closer To Fine," which is basically the story of my life. It's about 
someone who tries every possible way to search for the meaning behind 
life -- college ("I spent four years prostrate to the higher mind, got 
my paper and I was free"), therapy, religion, travel, love -- and she 
finally figures out the only way to be happy is to just let it happen. 
"The best thing you've ever done for me is to help me take my life less 
seriously ... it's only life, after all ... and the less I seek my source 
for some definitive, the closer I am to fine." Music like that is an 
important thing; there are songs (see the part about books later) 
which are truly friends to me. It's really nice sometimes to find an 
expression of feeling by someone who seems, somehow, to understand. At 
least a little. 
  
My "real" name is Elaine, as most of you know. Strangely, three of the 
best teachers I ever had were named Elaine. I'm pretty sure I'm the only 
Elaine of my generation; I've met several of them, but Julia 
Louis-Dreyfuss' character on Seinfeld is the only one who's under 40. 
I don't count Marilu Henner on Taxi -- she gives me hives. My dad calls me 
Elainel (it was a typo on the class phone list in fifth grade), the guys I 
lived with in the dorm freshman year called me Festra (short for 
FesteringPusWad - don't you dare), and my best friend Lisa often calls me 
Lainie. And you all call me Closr. I'm having such the identity crisis, 
but I love it. 
  
I was born in greater Cleveland on September 23. I have the same birthday 
as Bruce Springsteen, which is one of my favorite things to tell people 
repeatedly. 
  
I moved back and forth between New Jersey and the suburbs of Cleveland 
four times before I was ten. I ended up in Berkeley Heights, New Jersey, 
which I refer to as "home." With the quotes. ;) I have one brother, Jeff, 
who is 18.  He's a freshman at the University of Florida. It is, of 
course, totally unfair that he can't get me tickets to their football 
games.  My father is a suit (he's worked for AT&T since the dawn of time) 
and my mother is a computer programmer. They're patient, loving, tolerant 
people, qualities I've definitely put to the test in the last couple of 
years, and I count myself lucky in the family department. Good role 
models, I guess, so who can tell where I screwed up. ;) 
  
I graduated from Governor Livingston Regional High School (the alma mater 
of Mary Jo Kopechne, no kidding) a few years back. I moved to Blacksburg, 
Virginia, where I was a student at Virginia Tech for a while. No, I didn't 
graduate. Well, I haven't. :/  I started out as an architecture major, but 
that fell through at the end of my very first semester when it occurred to 
me I can't draw. I didn't know what I wanted to do until I accidentally 
fell into a position (thanks to Lisa) as a copy editor for the student-run 
newspaper. Instantly I knew this was what I wanted to do with my life, and 
it still is, though you couldn't tell from looking at me now. I don't know 
why it never occurred to me sooner; I know I write well, and I've been 
correcting everyone's spelling and punctuation since I learned to read. 
Which was at the age of three, another thing I like to tell people 
repeatedly. I was still wearing bell-bottoms then, so maybe I'm not as 
bright as everyone says I think I am. 
  
In January of 1993, my boss, Matt, the features editor at the paper, died 
suddenly of a brain aneurysm. He was only 21. I had what you could 
probably call a breakdown; he was one of the most 'alive' people I've ever 
known, and after his death mortality got to me like it never had before. 
Most of the staff at the paper fell apart, and, long story short, I got 
fired.  That job was more important to me than school, and the 
circumstances surrounding me losing it just screwed me up. I left college 
in March and moved home. Home sucked (what else is new), so I tried to go 
back to school in the fall of '93, but the new editor of the paper 
wouldn't hire me back, and lots of stuff began to seem absolutely 
pointless. I started ostensibly looking for a job, but I never got one. 
Truth be told, I didn't look much.  In October of '93 my three best 
friends moved to Florida, and from then until July of '94 I was, to quote 
Winona Ryder in Beetlejuice, "utterly alone." Not the greatest way to 
be. 
  
But anyway. Finally, my parents got sick of me leeching off of them from 
500 miles away, and issued an ultimatum - either get a job instantly, move 
home and get a job instantly, or come up with another solution. I chose 
number three. Wouldn't you? So now I'm living in St. Petersburg with my 
three best friends, I'm working editing technical manuals for GTE Mobilnet 
until something perfect comes along, and my attitude is much better. 
And my *life* is much better. 
  
What else? Well, my hobbies are predictable, since I'm a writer at heart. 
I collect junk -- specifically, cool greeting cards, which I will never 
send, and unique pens. I spend too much on things which have no use; I'll 
buy just about anything with a Mary Engelbreit or Keith Haring painting on 
it, and I own about a dozen beautiful blank books I don't think I'll ever 
fill. I think I probably have an unhealthy love of books, which very few 
people understand. I've been known to borrow a book from a friend or from 
the library, read it three or four times, return it, then go out and buy 
my own copy, only to read it again every couple of years for the rest of 
whatever.  I have no idea where this came from; my parents have always 
been of the opinion that once a book has been read, there's no point in 
reading it again. Whereas I think of several books (like The Neverending 
Story, The Virgin Suicides, Alice In Wonderland, The Phantom Tollbooth, 
The Last Unicorn, Slaughterhouse-Five and even The Stand) as real friends 
who I know will always be there when I need them. If there's no library in 
heaven, I don't want to go there. 
  
One last thing. Fortunately, if ironically, even when things are at their 
worst, I've usually been able to make people smile. It's really my opinion 
that there's no better wa y to spend your time.