Traditional “About” Page


When the real me was 2 years old, I came to Earth, killed her, buried her under the bed, and took her place. I was supposed to be here for only 4 Earth years, but then my people never came to get me. In third grade I found another of my kind (really – we discovered during free-reading time that we were from the same planet). But my Earth family and I moved, and she and I were separated. Thus, I am still stranded on this planet, alone amongst the annoying humans. Sad, isn’t it?

But at least I have an iPod. We don’t have those on my home planet. Oh, and we also don’t have Oreos (mint is my favorite). So Earth isn’t all bad.


But aside from my alien origins, I’m a technical writer in Washington DC. I love Washington DC. I pity the semicolon and enjoy a rousing debate about “use” versus “utilize” (I fall in the “use” category). Prepositional phrases fill me with delight and glee. I am currently on the pro side of the Oxford comma debate, but can be swayed by a good argument.

I’m LDS (a.k.a. Mormon, a.k.a. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints).


Well, now…. If you have a time machine, though, I’d love to join you.


“The only journey is the one within.” ~Rainer Maria Rilke

“Wheresoever you go, go with all your heart.” ~Confucius


Ah, why…. Isn’t that always the question?


What’s with the title “Orange Hoodie”?

Long ago, starting around first grade, my favorite color – my first favorite color – was orange. In third grade I had an orange hoodie (actually, I believe I originally obtained it earlier than third grade; also, I have a vague recollection that the one from third grade may have been my second orange hoodie). I loved that orange hoodie. Actually, this was so long ago (c. 1980), that the term “hoodie” wasn’t used. It was one of those zip-up, hooded sweatshirts, and I believe we used the terms “sweater”, “sweatshirt”, or “jacket”. In any case, the term for that article of clothing today is “hoodie”, so I’m sticking with that.

So back to that orange hoodie from third grade. It was stolen. In my elementary school, we left our jackets or other warm gear hanging on hooks in the hallway, and usually things were safe. But someone swiped my orange hoodie. I was devastated. I sobbed. Seriously. On the day it was swiped, my mom picked me up early from school (I don’t remember why), and we walked up and down the hall looking for it, thinking someone may have just moved it. I cried and cried. Oh, how I loved that orange hoodie.

I’ve never had another orange hoodie. I really should get another one.

In memory of the beloved orange hoodie, and in commemoration of my first favorite color, (and also because I couldn’t think of anything better to name it at the time) this blog is named Orange Hoodie.

(Update: My mom gave me a brand new orange hoodie for Christmas 2009. Isn’t she a cool mom?)