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  • Writer's picturewendy s. russo

i am invincible!...inevitable...ironman?

AKA that time a middle-aged keyboard jockey tried to relaunch her blog with movie lines.

This is my...fifth blog since blogging became a thing. If you don't recall any of my previous attempts, that's understandable. I wrote about the books I liked mostly and, unless you wrote those books, my opinion probably doesn't mean much to you. After all, who the f&!# is Wendy S. Russo anyway? And why should you care if she's reads more gay romances than straight ones?

It's a fair question. No...I mean, yes. I've read quite a few gay romances. My very favorite is "Strawberries for Dessert" by Marie Sexton. Tuck that nugget away. There could be a scavenger hunt some day.

Seriously, now. The question that matters: Who am I?

Woman drinking coffee while sitting in window seat.
Not me, but if I had a window ledge wide enough to sit on, I totally would. Photo © EmotionPhoto

I started thinking about that last week while reading one of Kristen Lamb's books. She suggested word clouds as a foundation for biographies. I haven't compiled a cloud yet but I can guess the words would stand out from 1000 feet.

I live with my husband, pre-teen son, and a French bulldog in the heart of Baton Rouge. I drive an eleven year old car with a manual transmission to and from Louisiana State University, where I spend every week day on the second floor of a repurposed dormitory at a keyboard but not writing.

I'm a Virgo, a Ravenclaw, and the seventh in a line of women proud to call themselves first born daughters.

I'm a lifelong Star Wars fan.

I'm fascinated by math but computation is a weakness. Similarly, I love music but I lack the ability to compose it. I can draw and paint, but they're not my favorite. My strengths lie in words and following instructions, thus some of my favorite finished projects include novels and Lego builds. I excel at repetitive tasks and can apply myself to them for hours. I'm an introvert and envy the ease with which other people converse.

I have the kind of resting bitch face that promises to champion my late grandmother's honor, but in truth, I'm probably wondering whether I have half-and-half in the fridge or not.

Who am I? I'm a 45-year-old woman, and I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up.

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