My parents were surprised when I came out of the womb with a full head of red hair. They were not only exuberant because of my fiery head, but because I was their first and only girl (I have three older brothers). They were exuberant, that is, until they learned I had an attitude. By two I had conquered the phrase “leave me alone,” except I couldn’t say my l’s so it came out as “yeave me ayone!” But I said it with force and I meant it. Although, that was a long time ago (and I haven’t changed one bit).
I should mention that I’m not technically a kid. I’m 22 years old and in grad school. I’m a journalism major. I know what you’re thinking—why would you go to grad school for that? My response: Because I just get a thrill in adding 50 grand to my debt pile. I like to ride by the seat of my pants. A real thriller. But seriously, I love to write and talk to people and share their stories. And it’s somewhat of a career change from my undergraduate work—English and adolescent education.
When I’m not interviewing people or stressing over 15-page papers or about ready to jump out of the nearest window—we won’t get into the chaos that is my life (at least not right now)—I try to be as least serious as possible. Yes, I sometimes become quite obnoxious, and only my best of friends know this real side of me. I’d like to think it’s endearing.
If I’ve at all somehow managed to hook you into reading this, it’s important to note that I have four current (because sometimes they change) obsessions in life: travel, my Italian heritage, Boston, and Betty White. Yes, Betty White. If you like the sounds of where this blog is going (trust me, it will be a learning experience for all of those involved, myself included) then stay tuned and stay classy San Diego (I also love Ron Burgundy).
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