Recently, I tried my hand at writing a semi-professional, tiny biography. It wasn’t a typical or polished first introduction, but it was real. It was the one that I felt God was pointing me towards.
But before I came to that ultimate conclusion, I spent hours staring at two paragraphs about myself. (To be clear, this is not my proudest moment.) I think it was harder because it wasn’t going to be published within my own space. I was sending the document off to a internet-friend that is technically still a stranger and they would publish it for me. Once I sent it, I wouldn’t be able to go back and edit the post when I thought about it as I was drifting off to sleep. I was worried that I was leaving something out that might make people interested in me or wondering if I was saying too much.
While I was procrastinating and muddling through how I wanted to first be known to these people, I was writing these. I was writing these tiny biographies that hold truth, but don’t tell the whole story. I was writing these tiny little sentences about myself that show my quirks. The truths that I sometimes wish would bring a boy to the yard. (I’ll update you on this endeavor. Actually I won’t. You’ll probably be the last to know.)
So, here it is. All the cut scenes from the recenty released movie. All the sentences that Amy Poehler would be proud of. All the sentences that if Amy Poehler ever reads them, she will wish that I could have written a chapter of her book, Yes Please, while she took a much-needed break.
Emilee Clemons is awesome. (I stared at this particular sentence for fifteen minutes during said writing project.)
I’d rather be at a rap concert. (A t-shirt that says this for Chistmas, pretty please. KB has changed my life forever.)
Just rewatching New Girl and eating guacamole. (But really, guys.)
I can make my own lattes at home. This is all you need to know about me.
Dang. Words are hard.
Don’t put me in a box. (Seriously considering this one for Instagram indefinitely.)
If I tell you all my boyfriends as of right now are dead theologians, would you be offended?
I have this thing for Frank Sinatra and the era he lived in. Some people call it an obsession. (HAHAHA it is one. No doubts or DNA tests needed.)
Is it December yet? (I’m one of those people.)
I believe in the power of sarcasm and theology. This makes me the soulmate of C.S. Lewis.
If I believed in past lives, I would say that I was Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s fiance, Maria. (My heart belongs to that man. Sorry, Clives Staples. Maybe in the next past life.)
I’m homeschooled and I don’t wear jean skirts everyday. This makes me a rebel. (This has been a real struggle in the past. But my favorite hobby is shattering stereotypes for people.)
My hobbies include reading and people watching at coffee shops.
I talk a whole lot about Taylor Swift’s brilliancy, Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s everything, and Adam Levine’s voice of an angel. Even more about the non-existent structure of the roads in Uganda or the seemingly never-ending lights of Guayaquil. (Sorry not sorry about this. Note, this last one was not supposed to make you laugh.)
To reach into my past bios, click here. (Proceed with caution.)
To read my current bio here at 1999, click here.
To read my current Instagram bio, go here.
To read my ever-changing Twitter bio, you can click this link once every two weeks. I doubt you’ll read the same thing twice. But we’ll see.
To research what I actually decided to share with the beautiful strangers mentioned at the beginning of this segment, click here.
As I close, let me ask you a pivotal question.
Where do you see yourself and your Twitter bio in five years?