Week 1: Who Am I?

In the first week of the 52 Weeks of Me, I think I may have been (as Treebeard would say) a little hasty. I have always struggled with writing about who I am as a person and defining myself as something other than what I do or what I’m interested in. But the whole point of this project is to grow in this ability and in my understanding of myself, so how can I measure that without a starting point? So here it is, a taste of who I am.


I’ve said it many times, but my passions define who I am. Whether it’s my passion for literature, traveling, eating good food, learning something new, or simply enjoying a beautiful day, I find it difficult to separate who I am from what I care about.

So why do I feel that I can be defined by my passions without it being a limiting description? I think it’s because the fact that I’m such a passionate person is a very telling characteristic. I’ve known people who simply lacked passion and to some degree, I always had trouble understanding what motivated them.

I may just be 26 year old, but in a lot of ways I’m a little old lady. I’m early to bed, early to rise. I drink an absurd amount of tea and watch a ridiculous number of BBC serials while re-reading the Victorian era literature they’re based on.


At the same time, I’m a child at heart who loves having a good time, going on adventures, learning new things, and just being silly. I’m as likely to make witty puns as I am to make dick jokes at the expense of, well, whoever is nearest at hand.

I’m an adventuress determined to find excitement and a fresh outlook on life every day, even if it otherwise appears to be just another day in a list of identical days. Instead, I try to find the joy in each day, especially when it’s remarkably similar to the one before.

I won’t pretend that I always succeed, but I like to stay optimistic. I believe that the only way to remain optimistic like this is to allow myself one day every so often to indulge in a bout of negativity. Not quite pessimism – more like cynicism. But I don’t let it temper my disposition at the end of the day.


There are few people in this world I consider true friends. But when I’m with them, I somehow manage to care even less what people think of me. When we’re together, it’s like no time has passed and we’re all suddenly 5-10 years younger.

I had some rough years growing up in which I was far from accepted by my peers. I was the butt of many jokes and teased mercilessly day after day. After years of this, I found a small group of people who accepted me, but have continued to be more skilled at making acquaintances than friends.

On the other hand, I am really dam good at making acquaintances. It’s a fact that has fooled many people to believe that I’m more socially savvy than I am. My socially awkward tendencies are overlooked (and frequently disbelieved) because I’ve gotten so good at hiding them. Despite that, I do love meeting new people and can get into social situations happily – I just need to ensure I have an out if needed.


If there’s a chance for me to try something new and exciting, I have a hard time turning it down. Especially when it’s at little to no cost to me. Give me a flaming baton and a tip or two and I’ll give it a whirl. I’ve traveled the world (not nearly enough of it yet), jumped out of an airplane, and dreamed only of continuing my journey through life, wherever it takes me.



  1. That first picture of you is cavity-inducing – just sayin’. heh

    This is a grand experiment you’re undertaking. Writing about yourself is never easy. You never know if you’re sharing too much or not enough to get the message across. That said, this is a good start thus far.

    Sidenote: No more pictures with Pabst. You’re better than that.

  2. wyatthaplo says:

    Lovely selection of pictures you have here. I really like the first one its cute 🙂

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