Who am I?
There’s an open-ended answer to that pointed question, and I’m still trying to find the words to answer it (in part, by writing this). After all, who we are can’t be summarized in a bio. We’re constantly being created day by day, experience by experience. Who I am right now won’t be who I am when I finish writing this bio, when I arrive back stateside from my travels. If I had to sum it up in a tagline, though, I guess you could say I’m a creative close-looker. I love observing the world and the people around me. I love creating—whether cooking, organizing, collaging, watching a movie, or getting dressed for the day. Living is an act of creating.
I guess a better question may be who was I?
I was a “precocious little girl” (as my mother says) who loved to play dress up outside all day.
I majored in English with a concentration in writing and double minored in art history and nutrition and food science. (A jack of all trades, trying to master some.)
In my leave of absence from school, I started a blog, which then petered out and started collected digital dust in some corner of the web, resting in a kind of internet purgatory, before being permanently deleted.
I became a CRLA certified writing tutor while in college and then, upon graduating, found myself teaching/mentoring at a private school that specialized in a one-to-one teaching model. I taught English, creative writing, art, psychology, humanities, and health courses. After teaching sex-ed to high school boys, I then said to myself, “I can do anything”.
Or, perhaps, a better question is who do I want to be?
I want to be a creative. I want to be a woman who prioritizes her happiness with each decision she makes. I want to work to live, not live to work. I just want to be me and meet myself where I’m at each day.
Sorry for waxing poetic.
For a polished, professional look at me (my portfolio and all my freelance offerings), visit my website.
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Why do we read anything?
Because we’re nosey.
Because we want to escape.
Because we want to be transported to another place without having to buy a plane ticket.
Because reading someone else’s writing allows us to connect with another human, whom we may only ever know as a name on a page (or a screen).
Because reading connects us with our humanness.
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