I do not use practically nearly as much as this post suggests – this is both a disclaimer and a promise.
Nice to meet you!
A few years ago a very close friend of mine, we’ll call him C, wanted help redecorating, and since a friend in need is a friend indeed and buying furniture is so much more fun with other people’s money, I was all in in helping him. It was also the first time I painted a wall. C gave me free rein to do whatever I liked with his room and bathroom, and I used that freedom like I was the ruler of the free world. I painted his whole room and his bathroom with an inspiration only second to Michelangelo and the Sistine Chapel. And let me tell you: It. Was. Beautiful. Unbiased opinion, you can ask C and his housemate, who is probably still dying of jealousy.
2 weeks ago, another friend of mine, we call her V, asked if I knew of any reliable painting services because she just bought a house and I proceeded to tell her of my masterpiece… “I painted a room once; I’m practically a pro …”
Look no further! We got to the point where the name makes sense!
Before the days of responsibilities and compromise, I used to write quite a bit; poetry that didn’t rhyme, stories with no end and Facebook posts that I am reaally proud of -- seriously. However, I haven’t taken the time to write in years, so when an impossibly persuasive friend ( @kubbyelizabeth ) convinced me to start steeming, I was so sure I was not the women the world of blogging needed. Writing is most certainly not like riding a bike, it’s more like wielding a sword that kills Greek gods and then finding out that the sword is a fluke and you are the weapon that kills Greek gods and you have a whip (!) but then realizing that no matter how awesome you are as a Greek god killer with a whip, you’re only as good as your rotten tomato ratings. It’s really scary. But you know what? When I was in middle school, I entered a poetry contest and I won! I had my poem published in a book I hope no one knows exists, and that makes me practically an author. I can and will conquer the world of blogging, but worry not, I will not rule with fists of iron but of cotton candy dipped in chocolate, and then I will give you a glass of water and pay for your dental insurance.
So back to something more relative, when this impossibly persuasive friend of mine, who did not threatened me to join but may have threatened some of you to read my post (my deepest apologies), told me that she was certain that I would love this community as much as she does and that I would find a group a people with a diverse and compelling array of interests, I decided that yeah, maybe I will join and let these wonderful strangers know about that time that I made a steampunk plague doctor costume out of thrifted clothes and became practically a seamstress
or the time I dressed as yeti and drank wine while eating s'mores in 80 degree weather (Fahrenheit) and became practically the re-inventor of elegance
or that time I got my jacket stuck on the safety latch of an Israeli soldier’s machine gun and that made me practically dead… of mortification.
no picture of this one, was focused on not dying.
I haven’t found my writing voice yet, I may have lost it while compromising with growing up but I’m hoping to find it again. I’m hoping it’s fun and genuine even if a little hyperbolous (I sometimes make up words) and scattered. I may overuse analogies and metaphors and have a hard time being concise, but maybe you’ll find something you like while I may be re-find something I love and then maybe we’ll be, you know, practically best friends.
… V ended up hiring a painting service and I’m yet to paint for a second time, but you know what? I still went furniture shopping with her and that makes me practically a… oh you know how that goes
Winner…. Practically a winner!