What was once called the objective world is a sort of Rorschach ink blot, into which each culture, each system of science and religion, each type of personality, reads a meaning only remotely derived from the shape and color of the blot itself. ~Lewis Mumford, “Orientation to Life,” The Conduct of Life, 1951
Reality leaves a lot to the imagination. ~John Lennon
I’ve spent much of my life pushing back against established norms. Determined to prove that I could succeed no matter the course. That my intelligence, which always tested high, could not be constrained by structured education (what purpose did route homework serve anyway?). That black and white were nothing more than colors. That single mothers can raise scholars, and then go on to find a second life in marriage. That a career woman can become a happy at home mom. That underachievers can find happiness. That writers are not always novelistic. That it’s ok to start and fail and stop and start all over again. And now, that life begins at 40.
Here I am.