On my birthday, stars fall. I came to earth in the thick of the Perseid meteor shower, plunking down on most singular soil: the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. A certain oddness runs in my pedigree.
" . . . but then there was a star danced,
and under that was I born."
― William Shakespeare,
Much Ado About Nothing
English professor that I am, I'm hoping you're scrawling "self-deprecation" and/or "hubris" in your mental margins -- extra credit for the newborn word "humblebrag," which deconstructs so felicitously. At any rate, I am at once proud and embarrassed by the riches of a childhood spent wandering the woods, reading the classics, and playing all sorts of pretend.
After first grade I moved to Washington State, where overcrowded schools propelled my family into homeschooling. My sister and I emerged at least somewhat socialized, and we got to go on a field trip inside a nuclear reactor to boot. I also did stints at a Christian middle school, and then all four years at Capital High School in Olympia, WA. In the former I learned that people can be snobby, and in the latter I learned that people can be mean. I learned lovely things too, but those were perhaps the most important lessons for one who tended toward the Pollyanna, or at very least the Jo March.
I aspire to be Jane Eyre, delight in comparisons with Anne Shirley, and fear that I am Emma Woodhouse. Show me anything British and I will love it, even if I hate it. I also love curious students, commercial flights, Art Nouveau, reading something when I'm supposed to be reading something else, autumn camping, IPAs, the N on the Meyers-Briggs personality spectrum, cooking, someone else cooking, current passports, scholar-farmers, gaff-rigged catboats, and lyrics by Over the Rhine. When I have my camera in my hand, it is like I'm seeing the world for the first time.
At least one love of mine deserves his own paragraph. I live with a housebroken Gentlebun of Leisure named Derby. He fancies juicy apples, spontaneous athletics, the peerage, seventeenth century metaphysical poetry, himself, and me. Because the only thing the internet lacked was a rabbit speaking in iambic pentameter, Derby spent a few months tweeting as @TheHonMrBunbury.
Oh, and you can call me Katie.
"All that I hope to say in books, all that I ever hope to say, is that I love the world."
― E.B. White
Copyright 2016· Katherine Leigh Carlson · All Rights Reserved