A-E-I-O-U
February 6, 2004Last night, I remembered how it felt to be carried by the sound of a word. I was lifted by vowels, jolted by consonants and wooed by a poet’s breath. I attended a reading by Robert Pinsky, former U.S. Poet Laureate, and it moved me. I didn’t realize how much it moved me until this morning, when I woke up with words buzzing and sounds swarming inside my head.
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ABC Any body can die, evidently. Few Knowledge, love. Many Sweet time unafflicted, X=your zenith. –Robert Pinsky |
I have not always wanted to be a writer. When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a ballerina, a teacher, a doctor, a fashion designer, an interior designer and a candy shop owner. I didn’t devour books like many writers I know, and I don’t even have a childhood favorite.
But sometime between then and now, I fell in love with the written word. That love spun me into a whirlwind adventure of sentence diagrams and teen magazines and journalism school and personal web sites and pretzel alphabets and Boggle.
I still do not read nearly as much as I wish I did, and I am not yet ready to write my Great American Novel, but I will always have a spot in my heart for words. The homepage of my first web site read: “When you use words every day it’s hard to make them count, but I try.” And I do. I try.
I'm Christine, and this is a slice of my life—a sweet, rich, wildly indulgent slice that would taste really good with a scoop of Breyers vanilla bean ice cream. Read more >>
I run a darling, friendly, little graphic design studio.
I look on the bright side.
I take photos. Lots of photos.
I wish on stars and on websites.
I built my first web site 7 years ago and got 15 seconds of fame. (It changed my life.)
I launched, then relaunched, an online magazine.
I admitted to several embarrassing crushes.
I consumed more bacon than any human should and lived to tell the tales.
