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I know I shouldn’t introduce my own memoir with this amount of insecurity, but my personal life philosophy is always to assume the worst, then you’re never disappointed. BAM! Highlight that previous sentence, baby! It’ll be one of many quotable life-nuggets you’ll be able to pull from this thing. I’m SUPER good at inventing Hallmark-type solipsisms. Later in life, I plan on making my fortune with a T-shirt/mouse pad/coffee mug company. I’ll call it Have a Nice Day Corp.! because of my last name, har har!
On average, a random person on the street won’t know my work, but there are certain places where I’m a superstar, like San Diego Comic-Con, and . . . other places like San Diego Comic-Con.
Some people know me only from my Twitter feed. That’s fine, too, because I, objectively, give VERY good tweet.
But the heart of my story is that the world opened up for me once I decided to embrace who I am—unapologetically.
My grandfather had a PhD in nuclear physics and a thick Southern drawl like molasses. He would invent a desalination machine one week and chew out anyone who distracted him from his favorite Nashville sketch show, Hee Haw, the next. “Get outta there, Pooch! You’re blockin’ Skeeter Davis!”
My brother and I tried to hang out with other homeschooled kids a few times, but in the ass crack of the Bible Belt, parents who kept their kids home were not going to intersect with our liberal points of view. Ever.
Growing up without being judged by other kids allowed me to be okay with liking things no one else liked.
P.S. I don’t have a GED. I have two college degrees, but I don’t actually have a high school one. It took writing this chapter to figure that out. Fuck.
Knowing yourself is life’s eternal homework. ( Another coffee mug slogan!)
If society broke down, what store would you loot first? (A drug store for tampons? Sorry, dudes, for mentioning tampons in the book.)
No one should feel lonely or embarrassed about liking something. Except for illegal sex picture stuff. And murder and dogfighting . . . I’ll make a list. It’ll be pretty long, now that I think about it. But you get the gist.
I entered college just as I turned sixteen, with a plan to double-major in mathematics and music. The math thing was for my dad and grandpa, who were firm believers in Real Degrees. (I capitalize because that’s how they sounded when they said I had to get one. “A Real Degree.”)
It was a great lesson to learn so young: Never let the truth stop you from getting what you want.
but the feeling of becoming part of “The Theatre.” (Say it with a British accent, that’s how I wrote it.)
it’s a personal rule of mine never to order the same thing off the menu as someone else. You’re a flawed human being if you think two beet salads at a table is ever acceptable.
But back then gaming was not a mainstream hobby. (Is it now? I can’t tell, my head is buried so far up the anus of the culture.)
As an introverted person who likes everything around her to stay in its place and who personally likes to go to open houses with the express goal of sneaking a look into strangers’ medicine cabinets, I knew that every inch of my home was destined to be violated.
Enduring a classical saxophone concert for more than fifteen minutes is a private hell NO ONE wants to live through if you’re not dating the person, believe me.
Work-play balance is, in retrospect, something that can EASILY get out of whack. Especially if you’re self-employed, you never turn it off. Your fate is in your own hands, so you can’t let up. Taking a weekend away for your birthday? Is your present to yourself RUINING YOUR LIFE?!
The internet is amazing because it connects us with one another. But it’s also horrific because . . . it connects us with one another. Whether we want the connection or not.
