I have a love-hate relationship with the written word. I wrote short stories with my dad as soon as I could hold a pen; I had a perfect verbal score on the SAT; and I've failed and dropped an inordinate amount of English classes. You do the math. That said, I'm still hopeful that I can summon the self-discipline to write and publish a story or two.
In what feels like an age ago, I was in a percussion ensemble, played clarinet, and took voice lessons. I'd like these things to hold my attention again, and perhaps even pick up something new, too.
I'm a visual creature, and my eye is most drawn to contrast. Softness has its place, but I have to work to appreciate it.
Recently, I've learned that I like to cook and dance (swing and blues). I'm a little bit surprised that I can even do these things, much less enjoy and improve enough at them to feel like I could be good at them. I'm still a little too squicked out by most meat to touch it with my bare hands, but I can cook damn good fish, veggies, meat substitutes, and baked goods.
Learning fascinates me, both the process and the fruits thereof, but I sometimes put a little bit too much pressure on myself about the whole thing.
I'm polyamorous, and it's probably a word you'll need to know, or have a conversation with me about to not be absolutely confused/concerned about how I interact with others, especially romantically. But it's nothing to be scared of, I promise!