I am a 25-year-old woman, with a BA in Photocommunications, and I live with my mom and brother in a big city that feels like a small town. I moved back home a few months ago to begin my freelance career as a food writer and photographer, which is fun, confusing and as low-paying as everyone told me it would be.
I know life is a process, but my life looks and feels like a mash-up of the world’s longest John Hughes film and deleted outtakes from The Barefoot Contessa. I’m the self-described “awkward” female protagonist, determined to create a career and a life that reflects her dreams and capability (which includes making French macarons as perfectly as La Duree, and inviting all my friends over to laugh and eat macarons as the credits roll).
Cliché ends here.
I know should write everyday, but I can’t seem to force myself to write for my regular blog. I know I’m not a complete cliché because funny things are happening to me, and funny things have always happened to me. Falling while walking upstairs is not a cliché. Neither is a deer jumping towards your car, when you simply wanted to sneak out at 2 am and eat Whataburger. Or accidentally breaking your wrist because you were breakdancing. If I can’t find the inspiration to write about news stories or recipes, I can at least share some of my life adventures and misadventures.
If you’re still reading this post, thank you. I’m not sure what will happen with this blog, but I’m determined to see it through. Maybe we will find some inspiration in the stories.