Like most people, of course, I presumed I'd never have a blog....thinking I'd stick to ol' fashion real conversation, ya know, over a scruffy cafe table in an uncomfortable chair in an understated outfit that screams "Look at me, I'm so hip and understated."
Oh me, I'm a writer, a grammar geek, crafts- person, gal, art-ist, altruist, practical bohemian, who acts up sometimes, 50-something (uhm hmm), probably born way ahead of my time. By this I mean I'm generally the oldest person in any craft, writing, design, fashion, higher education or political action group I find myself in, and I find myself looking about, wondering...Well hell, where are my people? I like to think I'm still cool, young-minded and all, firm yet wisened. Other than that, I am constantly plagued by the thought that, by now, I should either be hardened to the violent warish nonsense going on in much of the world, or I should be able to rationalize it, rise above it, or sink far below it, but no, instead I scrape along the bottom of it, my head ever rubbing up against the stomach of the media beast. Well, I've worn myself out now, so I'll close with this: It's a good thing there are things ornate in the world -- things that are either by nature quite breathtaking, or which openly lend themselves to adornment -- a little foo-foo, flash, feather, sequin, boa, gardenia behind the ear....there are very few things or people you can't throw a pretty little scarf around and feel you've made an improvement. Pretty on with your special self.
--Zann
