The Face Behind the Blog
I’m Kristin. I was raised to believe that the fairy book tales didn’t lie when they always ended with the good defeating the bad. I was told to follow my dreams wherever they led me, and that there was nothing that was too difficult to overcome. I think that someone has got to be looking out for me, because I know I could not have gotten this far alone. I am currently doing the whole medical school thing, living the dream.
But I am more than a student. If you didn’t notice, the world is this complex, intertwined mess of wonderful things. This blog represents my lovely life according to me. I love telling true stories, however, not all stories I tell are true to my life personally. This whole idea started after deciding that I want to someday be a real author, the best story teller. And everyone has been told that practice makes perfect. I am no where close to perfect, and I need guidance, mentors, readers, and a good old push in the right direction. I’m optimistic I will get that constructive criticism from you all. So read on. I double dog dare you. If you are looking for something in particular, I have done my best to organize my thoughts into topics. You could even call them categories. If you look, there are five.
1. A Few of My Favorite Things: There is an odd conglomeration of things I tossed into this basket, most of which I have stolen from someone else’s mind. Sometimes I bump into other beings traveling around this planet that are just neat enough that I can’t keep all to myself. I categorize them here, and think of them as parts of me that I found in other people.
2. My Love Life: Both my sister and I have been told that we are robots because we lack the ability to cry and outwardly show emotion as our XX chromosomes tell us we should be doing. Maybe this is because we grew up on a farm and never have seen our parents or grandparents cry. That’s a lie, though, because I saw my mom cry once. We were playing hide and seek, hiding behind our bathroom door, and we were just tall enough to knock down thousands of dollars of figurines with enough sentimental value to keep them in our house despite have little money or food. Mom cried then. She wasn’t a very good crier, though. I’m not a good crier either. I only poke a little fun at people who have fire hydrants hiding behind their eyes. I think I’ve gotten a bit off topic, as this category is about the boys who I loved, who I think I love, and those who I wish I could love.
3. My Motivation and Inspiration: These are the long-winded, sentimental stories that are a glimpse under my skullcap and behind my rib cage without all the blood and gore.
4. Photographic Memory: I was blessed with genetics toward being the artsy type. I’m imagining that it is autosomal dominant, since only my mother is an artist. Either way, the things set in this basket show the world through my eyes, with the aid of a magical photo capturing tool that the intelligent people before me have invented and nearly perfected.
5. Snippets of Life: This category contains my roughest work. They say the best storytellers can tell a story in one sentence. Challenge accepted. Most of the time, they are just the little thought bubbles that pop out of my ear when you aren’t looking. Since I am not very good at following rules, I have also thrown the poetry I write in here. Rebellious. I can’t help it. Luckily, my rebellion rarely gets me into trouble. I’d like to think this is because I don’t get caught, but it is probably more likely me believing I’m hardcore and everyone else missing that fact.