I am a work in progress, right in the middle of the already and not yet; a true mess. Filled with a mix of incompatibilities, I am a very outgoing introvert. I have the mind of a cynic and the heart of an idealist. Passionate, honest, logical, captivated and moved by the arts. I am a lover of beauty and truth.
I love to write. All avid readers do. Writing is the consummation of reading. Without it, something is left lacking. So I come- pen in hand- to process, to landmark, to complete the very thing I endure by entering fully into it. Writing is slow-going. You have to stop and ponder. Sometimes you have to sift through emotions for a long time before words come. Sometimes you don’t know how to interpret what is happening until you give it a name.
So I’m here to write. I’m here to press pause and reflect and put names to the things in this life. I’m here to process. There’s stuff in me and stuff outside of me that I have to really grapple with at times. I process through output, verbal or written, so a good friend or a blank page can be a warm blanket to my soul. Most of my things are little. My whole life, it seems, is made up of little moment after little moment, with all those little moments welling up into one full life. It’s also a place for me to play with writing, to get a feel for different styles and subject matter, to see what feels most natural, most challenging, etc.
I am a wife and mama to three little girls, and in what little spare time I have, I can be found reading, strolling through the Kimbell, writing at my desk, or learning to play the piano.