I guess I’m just a girl who got a bit twisted along the way. I placed my trust in the wrong people and got a bit jaded and snarky in the process. The only way I knew how to properly express what I was feeling…was to just write.
So I did.
I’ve written my way through life– blogs, podcast episodes…poetry. In journals, on loose paper, on napkins or even my own skin, as long as I am basking in the written word…I feel at home.
It’s made me awkward in relationships, allowed me to indulge my true introvert, and along the way, has seemed to entertain the masses. (I mean it did get me to Playboy Radio once; you know?)
So here in my 40s, I ‘m kinda free to be me.
I am a writer, mostly a poet. Sure, I’ve been a stage performer and podcast/talk show host, but these days I opt for a quieter life. Well, sorta…
I’m also a 40-something, newbie grandma, who loves not only writing, but knocking down walls, playing in the dirt, studying people, experiencing new things, learning through mind-fuckery, and playing dress up. I’m a new yogi, into CrossFit, and proud of my plus-size curves…but I’m ever working to tighten them.
This is going to be a slight detour from what my readers might be accustomed to, but all things must change. Mr. Impossible taught us that.
So I hope that you, as a new reader or a returning one, can also appreciate my quirks, my complexities, my random passions, and my desire to chronicle them all here in my virtual memoir.
I mean the beauty of it all is that I don’t necessarily expect anyone to read this. But write is all I have ever wanted to do. And by no one’s rules but my own.
I mean the ultimate goal is happiness. Right?