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Handbasket Emporium: The Unbearable Awkwardness of Being

I believe what my hands make.

Sister Pistol of Mindful Patience
19 September 1979
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Every time I write one of these, it winds up sounding like a personals ad. To try and sum it up, I'm 31, pagan, in love with music, a total media geek, polyamorous, red-haired, a reader, a writer and a generally creative-sort, and I share my life with 13 other creatures, most of whom are animals.

My journal is exactly that. Sometimes I get online, have my freak out, and then get back to normal. Sometimes I share too much. Sometimes I forget birthdays, but remember Towel Day. You could insert the standard paragraph about friending policies here, but really, "policy" is a little too intense for me. Sometimes I no longer find pleasure in reading someone's journal, so I stop. Please don't get paranoid about it. It's supposed to be fun and enjoyable.

You can find out what I've been reading online (mainly a pan-fandom epidemic of mostly slash) by checking out my yearly bookmarks on del.icio.us:

Reesa's Delicious Account

Be excellent to each other.


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