I am too many things: adoptive parent, Halloween event creator, lover, feminist, polyamorist, assault victim, divorcee, non-profit manager, reader, database builder, actress, graphic designer, marketer, dancer, and general rabble-rouser. I recently decided that I’ve been through enough that I can speak publicly, without worrying whether someone tells me I don’t know what I’m talking about. I know enough. Enough adventures, enough heartbreak, enough stories, that I can speak just fine. I have a voice and that is fine.
I corner people at parties and ask them questions that I am told make them uncomfortable. But I can’t resist. I want to know. What else is there to know other than the twists of your gorey insides? And I tear off pieces of the stories and paste them over and around the stories I make from my life and that’s how I paper my inside walls. This blog is not a bullhorn. It’s not blasting out so others can hear. It’s an invitation to a secret room. I’ve been listening. And I made a thing.