Hello hello! Thank you for checking out my little site and its even littler accompanying blog. Eventually, this will become the space where I announce upcoming shows, drop news about my writing and publishing endeavors, post links to whatever content I find meaningful, and maybe even unload an opinion or two. But for today, this is where I talk about myself, which is one of the most simultaneously exhilarating and mortifying things for me to do.

If you already read my about page, you know that I’m a writer, standup comic, and founding member of Comedy Coven. If you’ve seen me onstage, you know that I’m softspoken, introspective, pop culture savvy, and deeply traumatized. And if you know me in real life, I just want to say that I’m sorry (but also, you know that I am an overzealous empath, a hyper-attentive dog mom, and an impassioned Real Simple subscriber).

Describing yourself is an unsettling process because it’s so heavily contextual. Right now I’m poring through Emily V. Gordon’s Super You: Releasing Your Inner Superhero with a fast-moving pen and a notebook specifically designated for the cause (did I mention I’m an unabashed self-help guy?), and in doing so, have been forced to answer a lot of questions about how I choose to brand myself when meeting new people. Sure, it makes me feel like a manipulative serial killer, but at the end of the day, we’re all selective about what information we offer to whom and when. Everyone’s trying to make an impression, and only a statistically tiny portion of us is trying to bake that impression into a cannibalistic pie.

For example, right now I’m putting out applications here and there for part-time day jobs to supplement the hours I put in as a receptionist at an animal welfare non-profit. When I describe myself in that context, I’m only worth as much as my WPM, Excel proficiency, and customer service skills (I’m extremely wishy-washy and conflict-averse but, when yelled at, am really good at waiting until I get home to cry; in my mind, this constitutes a “customer service skill”). It can be kind of degrading to view myself in that way, but it’s not dishonest.

As another example—and one that sounds like a flimsy segue in my standup act to boot—I’m a single lady. These days, that’s by choice, but at one point in my not-so-distant past, I’d go on first dates and find myself in one coffee shop or another, blathering at length about my upbringing, my passions, my secret fears and my hangups to some bemused person who, more likely than not, was just patiently waiting for the part where we bone. So sometimes I’m not terribly calculated about what I share with whom, which helps me feel better even if it’s hella embarrassing in retrospect.

Now you know a little bit about me than you did before, and just like after first dates or job interviews, I feel the need to take a shower to cleanse myself from the humiliation of oversharing. But please check back soon so that I can do it some more, because my water bill’s not high enough already from all of the crying in the bathtub and feeling dirty constantly.

Until next time,