I am equal parts wildflower meadow and internet chaos. I split my life between Austin and Harlem like some kind of feral fairy with Wi-Fi, collecting strange stories, thrift store treasures, and enough plants to make my yard look like Mother Nature filed a hostile takeover. I have three ponds, mosquito fish, bees that treat me like staff, and the kind of relationship with dragonflies that sounds made up until you see it.
I’m a little awkward, a lot dorky, and fully committed to being the person who will absolutely stop mid-conversation to point out a cool bird, a weird bug, or a plant I’m emotionally attached to. I love social justice, old hacker lore, board games, soft things, sharp words, and the very specific chaos of trying to turn half an acre of Texas clay into a native meadow while arguing with strangers on the internet who peaked in 1987.
I was raised somewhere between off-grid woods, free-range chickens, and the kind of life lessons that make you either very resilient or very weird. I chose both. I’ve danced on stages in New York clubs, spoken in rooms full of hackers and chaos agents, and somehow still ended up being the person who gets genuinely excited about milkweed seedlings and whether the screech owl is back tonight.
I am soft, but never weak. Romantic, but with excellent aim. I believe in kindness, but I also believe some people deserve to be verbally escorted to the nearest exit. I trust animals faster than humans, think ghosts probably have good reasons, and I fully intend to become local folklore one day—the woman with the wild yard, too many opinions, and a suspicious number of foxes who seem to know her by name.
