Two things in my life have always been constant:
I wrote my first travel journal when I was seven, I still have it. My family was vacationing in Florida. Those four spiral bound pages are filled with things I saw and learned on the trip. I still remember the excitement I felt when I scribbled my notes about the electric eel at Sea World. I was hooked.
Around the same time I started reading. Non-fiction books opened a door to a whole new world for me. Through the author’s eyes I could go places and see things that I had never imagined existed. I was learning things that even my teachers and parents didn’t know. School lost its place as my primary source of education. I dove into the library card catalog (I know, I’m old), searching for new and interesting rules about how the world worked. I remember having books on lasers and chemistry experiments checked out for months at a time.
If non-fiction was my classroom, fiction became my escape. It was my defense against boredom, hardship, and disappointment. I could get lost for hours following Bilbo through Mirkwood or wondering if Taran would ever find his pig.
These simple themes (reading and writing) have continued to be woven into the narrative of my life. I still love to learn and I love to write about the things I have learned. I still love a great story, and have begun to tell a few of my own. Now I want to share my passions with anyone who will listen.
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