[Note: still having difficulty uploading photos. I'll try again in the next few days] I have a special love of crows. I love their intelligence. I love their family dynamics. I love the glossy sheen of their feathers. I love their cry. But let me be a little more specific: when I say crow -... Continue Reading →
I want to recapture the badass I was when I was twelve. Twelve-year-old me wasn't afraid to raise her hand in class when she knew the right answer. Twelve-year-old me wasn't afraid to be an outspoken liberal in a conservative town. Twelve-year-old me wasn't afraid to be feminist, and pagan, and publically weird. Twelve-year-old me... Continue Reading →
Growing up, I was always afraid of being seen as shallow. I was afraid of being judged for liking pretty things, for wanting to present myself in a certain way. I was afraid that I wouldn't be taken seriously. And as a twelve-year-old girl, I desperately needed people to take me seriously. So I adopted... Continue Reading →
[Note: Having trouble uploading the pics for this post. I'll try to add them later] Today is my thirteenth day in Australia. It's the thirteenth of seventy-five days of summer, the thirteenth of seventy-five days to spend with my person, the thirteenth day of waking up and realizing I did it. I left the cozy... Continue Reading →
I've spent about seven years avoiding the fact that I have anxiety. I've always known that I was a cautious person - I like to observe situations before engaging in them. I've always known that I was very shy - I used to make my mother order my sandwiches when we went to a lunch counter... Continue Reading →
I set myself a goal of writing six blog posts in October. Didn't happen, but that's okay because October was a pretty great month. I got to spend some quality time with my person before he went back to Australia to go back to work. We went on hikes, we went to the movies, we... Continue Reading →
I don't like killing spiders. They're beautiful creatures and an important part of our eco-system, but on Mondy, I killed a spider. I can't stop thinking about it, feeling guilty. I killed it because it looked like a black widow, which we sometimes get, but more than that, it was in one of my favorite... Continue Reading →
When I was about nine or ten, I read a picture book illustrating the entirety of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's poem "There Was a Little Girl" or as I always think of it "The Girl with the Curl in the Middle of Her Forehead." For some reason, that poem, especially the first stanza, has always stuck with me.
In which I philosophize about hair.