I’m a sans-serif girl who likes a serif on the side — either bold or italic, one or the other and never both.

I’m a writer. An artist. A Biology major who is holding out for what really interests her (cadavers). Pre-med, yes. Typical, no.

I have this thing for giraffes. Can’t say when it started, but the best gift I’ve ever gotten has to be my baby Jack. Since then it’s been rain boots, Mary Jane wedges, wood figures and more plushies, but he will always have my heart.

I used to live off of Rockstars. But with all things, it came to an end; it was replaced by an obsession with Izze (though Izze Esque will certainly do) and chrysanthmum-sugared tea, and a fond memory of what brought it all about: a brief fling with a bright-eyed girl and a bottle whose scent still lingers.

I like shoes.

I love my sisters. It started out so blindly, stabs in the dark, and then it all fell into place. It is inexplicable, this feeling. But I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

I munch and I scribble. I can’t help it. I have days where I have to end all my letters firmly, get up and erase the remnants on the board, draw and redraw and redraw to make visions perfectly symmetrical. My hair is sporadically nice, but it tends to curve to one side and refuse all styling that it receives.

I’ve met the love of my life. It didn’t work and then it worked and now it’s still working, and I hope it continues to do that. This is it. No missed connections here. I hope you believe it.

And I hope you know, I’m a Bay Area girl through and through.