Hey there. I used to have something fairly witty here. Since that didn't really pan out (or perhaps since, gods of sea and sky help me, I'm not not actually witty), I have replaced it with this:
I am almost 40. I'm a transwoman with a high IQ and little patience for fools. I, like so many, struggle with my weight. My idea of fun is generally out of sync with my generation (and those subsequent), consisting as it does of reading, writing and doing tediously Midwestern things like bowling or trivia night or trotting off to the jazz club or museum instead of, I dunno, mainlining Red Bull and then dancing until 3 AM before jetting off to do something regrettable in a condemned warehouse disguised as a rave. (The warehouse is disguised as a rave. Not you. That's just ridiculous. I mean, honestly.)
I'm originally from a little city called Troy, Ohio. It lacks both high walls and kidnapped princesses, but has a fair number of people wearing sandals. With socks. We also have a world-famous Strawberry Festival. It is the subject of a short horror story I once wrote as a teen.
I just moved to San Antonio in June of 2013, so if there is some magical group of cantankerous writers who meet to share coffee and self-loathing, give a shout, eh?
The things I find beautiful in a person are kindness, gentleness, wit and charm. I'm looking for, oh, I dunno. People who read. People who care about not only what they think, but HOW to think. People who are passionate about at least one thing in their lives. Someone whose quirkiness clockwork aligns with my own.
People who believe we're here to be makers, and not just takers.
I am (and this is crushingly important, I know) a big believer in discretionary and contextual, rather than universal, application of the Oxford comma. Lists that are unlikely to confuse the reader don't need it. They don't.
I wish I could say I've never been in a shouting match over this point, but...yeah.
At any rate, I suspect I may be in need of some sort of balancing agent. My Platonic complement (that's with a majuscule P, note) is probably the last person I'd expect to meet, and vice-versa.
Drop me a line if you've noticed a distinct lack of nerdy Dorothy Parker-wannabes in your life.