I always loved books and stories with unconventional characters that pushed the limits. I loved adventure and quirky twists through the main plot of tales. When the protagonist impulsively followed through with an insatiable desire and came out on top against all odds, even better. These characters were found in fiction and in newspapers, on the radio and through eavesdropping.
Everyone knew of a fascinating account. My friends and I would relate texts we had picked up along the way. We traded stories of family members, people we met on planes, anecdotes from This American Life, and books read long ago. All of these conversations started out with, “Well, I know this guy who…”, “Did you hear that piece on NPR about the woman with…”, or “I was reading this article in the New York Times and…” We were all telling someone else’s story.
There I was, a 19 year old woman with every opportunity in front of her but without a story to tell. I was boring. What would I tell my children? Impatience within me grew each day. I put pressure on myself to take an active interest in the creation of my story. So, I did what any newly impulsive young woman would do; I pursued a career in the traditional building trades. I figured the easiest way for me to create a story was to constantly place myself outside my conventional comfort zone. In doing so, I have started to become one of those characters I have always admired.
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