Precipice

I'm relaunching my story blog soon. July 1st to be exact.

Working with my graphic designer, Tara Victoria, revealed a lot about why I write Stories of Alberian. In deciding on a signature image to represent these words, I've realized something:

An identity doesn't just walk up to you and introduce itself; you have to find it.

If you want to become something - clear, fixed, trustworthy - you have to reject what you are not. You have to reject what you refuse to become.

This may be a strange idea to originate from a logo process, but when you fall asleep in front of your computer at night subconsciously wondering how any sort of small insignia will represent the thesis that flows from the depths of your soul while consciously obsessing over the shape of serif font), you realize how much we depend on externals for our identity.


Smoothie Time
Smoothie Time
I'm not ready to write again. I'm just settling into eating regularly and snacking as a pastime. I'm ready to break the emotional scar tissue, the coping mechanism known as #PostAnorexia. I'm tired of unpacking my freezer to find year-old frostbitten meat. I'm tired of letting pears/cheese/salsa/rice from last week/month rot in my fridge. I'm tired of being afraid of eating. And being lazy-afraid of cooking/cleaning. Nuts and snacks are my new work mates. Smoothies on the road plus oatmeal at my desk sounds like a wonderful breakfast strategy. I've decided I want to get well. Turning food into words sounds like a life-changing pastime. And yes, Tanya, I promise I will get you next month's story in your editing basket by the end of this week. Tomorrow Tuesday night, I'm cooking chicken.