About Me



I’m not compliant.

On the outside, my appearance may be deceiving to this fact; I am a woman with no outstanding features. I wear glasses. My hair color is neither blonde nor brown. My wardrobe does not indicate pride of ownership. My first best friend was Sarah Lee, and she has hung around into my middleish years. In other words, I blend.

Integrating was not always easy. As a child, it seemed important to point out my vast observations. Gramma’s house did indeed smell like farts, the neighbor mowed his grass in his boxers, and the poses in Dad’s magazine hidden under the Sears catalogue did not seem physically possible. These issues, among others, required prompt relating with elaborate description, but resulted in corner staring, denial of dessert, and stern admonishments. How was one to solve this kind of problem?

It occurred one day that what I said in my head did not result in punishment. I did not understand this. Didn’t everyone hear my thoughts? If not, then I had a brainstorm.

My math teacher repeatedly lowered my grade for not showing my work, hardly fair, and she didn’t like it when I voiced my opinion. The next time I had the answer before the chalkboard revealed the intricate workings of long division, I tested my theory.

I flipped that teacher the bird. In my head, of course.

I waited for the wide eyes, speedy intake of breath, and the comforting knowledge of cause and effect. Nothing happened. I tried it again when she looked me right in the eye. Still nothing. It obviously required a stronger effort.

I double-birded her. In the heat of self-discovery, I also extricated every epithet, every curse word I had ever heard uttered and pummeled them at her in a forward and relentless fashion. For the entire class. She seemed not to get the messages no matter how hard I tried. I spent the remainder of class exhibiting unbecoming behavior and inappropriate language. In my head, of course.

There were repercussions to the enlightenment, however. My head neglected to tell me it could, and it did, fill up to overflowing with the unfettered thoughts cavorting around inside its cavity. Words started to slip, like a dog its collar, and escaped before I could grasp the trailing leash. In trouble, again. People simply did not want their nose-picking and wedgie-relieving behavior out in the open. I was beginning to understand this revelation, but what could I do with such recalcitrant thoughts?

I want to say my hand reached out to help my head with its heavy burden. It didn’t. Instead, it joined the unwelcome wagon eagerly, spewing forbidden thoughts into written form.  My hands gleefully enjoyed the new job so well, it asked the head to find better words and phrases and to please place commas appropriately. The head was pleased.

In perfect harmony, the head and hand embraced each other. The overload problem solved itself by transforming thoughts into words, and better yet, could be kept hidden, away from prying ears waiting to pounce. Secret writings! The head felt relieved as the hands aided and abetted the thoughts that had so easily put me in hot water. I was pleased.

As a team, the head and hands found other outlets for expression. Hence creativity. There was no stopping their pursuits—drawing, painting, crafts, sculpture—their enterprises were limitless. So comes art in all its forms. From head to hands to a myriad of expression, I finally found peace. Anything created could be shared, or not, and the choice was all mine. Creativity exists solely from the expression of the head, to the accompaniment of the hands, and is born in ways we can only dream of.

Thinking. Writing. Creating. Finally, I found peace. I didn’t used to like myself much. I like myself fine now. An unassuming demeanor lends itself well to studying behavior and learning from the environment. I’m not compliant, but I have found balance between navigating the external world while honoring my uniqueness.

It is my pleasure to share.