I am 22 years old and a recent graduate of Oberlin College, where I probably learned more about gender, food, Judaism, and liberal politics than about anything I was formally studying. Things I did formally study include anthropology and history, but I also dream of writing novels and publishing my poetry... along with having a singing career, acting onstage, and/or becoming a respected designer of theatrical costumes. Oh well. For now, and possibly forever, I'm an archaeologist, because that's the field in which I'm trying to find jobs and in which I'm intending to pursue still higher education. Right now I'm killing time for a few years before applying to graduate school, [hopefully] with various jobs and projects, some archaeological and some, well, not.
I was a strange child, by some standards—I liked antique stores and history museums and genealogical research. I was the kid reading extra chapters in the history textbook for fun. I was the kid with the coin collection, and I wasn't interested in the pristine, mint condition specimens coveted by most, but in coins that had actually been used, dirty and worn and the older the better. I was the kid reading National Geographic articles about Inca mummies while my classmates read The Babysitters' Club, playing MayaQuest as a preteen instead of The Sims like everyone normal, and producing frighteningly detailed (to my squeamish teacher, that is) sixth-grade school projects about ancient Egyptian burial practices. I've been picking out historical inaccuracies in movies since I can remember, and the best presentation I've ever given in my life, without any notes and in which I totally lost myself, forgetting my fear of public speaking, remains to this day the one I gave in my AP English class on the famous ship burial of Sutton Hoo. I think that was the day everyone but me figured out that I was never actually going to end up an English major. It took me a few more years and a couple of setbacks to finally put all the pieces together, but here I am, and now I realize I've been heading towards the quip on my favorite bumper sticker ("My life is in ruins") my entire life.
I originally started blogging, ages ago, because I'm shy about talking to real people and because I tend to be awkward and inarticulate in actual face-to-face conversations and less so in writing. I also just plain enjoy writing and like to have a record of my thoughts, especially on things I don't get around to having actual conversations about. And, I admit, I am far from immune to the narcissistic aspect of blogging. I mostly write for myself (so I have something to laugh at later when I'm older and wiser), but if I put it out there on the internet and somebody else happens to find it interesting, well, then, so much the better.