…Or maybe not? In any case, there are quite a few new readers here, and I have no idea how y'all found me, but I feel obliged to do one of those posts that gives a little more insight into what I'm about, and why exactly I'm here in this corner of the Internet writing things down.
Since I was a kid, I've been obsessed with exploring old ghost towns, specifically old western towns and homesteads. This sounds hokey, but when I'm visiting one, it's like I'm fully immersed in the feeling of the time, or at least my romanticized version of it. My dad, (bless his heart) shared this interest, so when I was growing up our family vacations usually consisted of him packing up his Toyota 4Runner, and driving us kids to random abandoned towns in BC. I was the kid who loved road trips, but got terribly car sick. Once, I threw up all the way to Barkerville. But I was the happiest kid you've ever seen when we got there. It didn't matter that I reeked of barf. I assume that's what half the old cowboys smelled like back in the day, anyway. Aside from ghost town settlements, I also love me a good crumbling cemetery and spent a good portion of my childhood doing gravestone rubbings. I'm proud to say my son is equally obsessed with ghost towns and old graveyards. The tradition lives on.
I'm a closet bohemian hiding behind the facade of a suburban mom, and sometimes that gets me down. Not the mom part, specifically. I love being a mom and find it incredibly rewarding, but I am drawn to the unconventional, weird, whimsical and sometimes (though not so often now) I brood over the fact that my life isn't aligned with that. That being said, I struggle being around pretentiousness and inauthenticity, and sometimes creative and whimsical people can be that way too. In short, I often feel I don't really make sense anywhere. Not with the soccer / hockey moms, nor with the artsy types. But I feel grateful to have a vast array of friends with unique interests, occupations, and lifestyles who inspire me to stay as true to myself as possible.
I haven't bought anything from Walmart since 2019. I don't know whether this is interesting and a testament to my disdain of the Waltons or just makes me look stupid or bougie because every other store has higher prices. But whatevs. Boycotting that place has been good for the soul.
I don't drink pop and I have never had a McDonald's Big Mac. As a result, I have great teeth and even better intestines.
And lastly?
I write because it helps me make sense of the world, and because I see writing as an invisible tether that connects me to all other things in the universe. Writing is a solitary practice, to be sure. For an introvert like me, that works. I adore being alone. But I don't necessarily want to 'feel alone', if that makes sense. We need each other to be able to make sense of this strange, human experience we're having together, and yet, separately, all at once.